Beyond Bliss (31 page)

And I didn’t take them back out of spite, Sophie.  I did it to save jobs of the people that would be unemployed when those businesses went under, which they inevitably would have. 

I have so much more to explain to you.

I know that. 

I wish I could freeze the time we were happy and live in those moments forever.  I wish I could stop the world from turning on its axis, and just stay with you.  I remember everything.  Every laugh, every moan, every gasp, every look.

Every single moment I spent inside your beautiful body was a gift.  Each time you touched me, I burned brighter.  Every time I heard the sound of your laughter, I could swear I heard an angel sing.

You are my everything. 

I would rather be paralyzed in time, motionless, with you than move on to a future with someone else.

If only it were as simple as tearing the hands off a clock.

Nothing worth having is every an easy journey.  My father always tells me that, but you know what—even if it had been easy with us, you’re worth ten of me.  You, my beautiful, amazing Sophie, are a part of my heart. 

Quite simply, my love, you fucking own me.

I’m waiting for you.  If you want to come to me, all you have to do is let Harry know.

Love,

Lucas

She’d stopped breathing by the time she finished reading the letter, certain that she was about to pass out. 

“Harry?” she whispered weakly.

The window between the passenger seats and the driver rolled down.

“Yes, Miss Harlow?”

She wanted to laugh at his formality, this man who was dating her mother, but it was impossible in that moment.

“Take me to Lucas, please.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He missed her so goddamned much, it physically ached.

Would she come?

He glanced at his watch again, and shut his eyes, hoping and praying that she would give him—give them another chance.

“Another drink?”

He looked down at his glass, noting that the amber colored whiskey had dwindled to where it barely covered the bottom of the glass.  He’d never needed liquid courage before, but he was tempted.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to get wasted right now.  He needed all his wits about him.

He needed to close the biggest deal of his life.

He shook his head no, giving the bartender a small smile. 

At least he thought it was a smile.  Any facial expressions he made these days just felt like facial contortions with little or no emotion behind them.

He checked his watch again.  Only a few minutes had ticked by, but it felt like an eternity. 

He would wait forever for her, but if she didn’t show up within the next few hours, he’d tell the bartender to just give him the whole fucking bottle.

What if she didn’t show up?

Or worse, what if she came and told him to shove his intentions where the sun didn’t shine?

Similar thoughts kept repeating in his brain, on a continuous loop.  It could have been ten minutes or an hour that passed, so lost he was in his mind.

He bent his head to check his watch once more, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Then several things happened all at once.

A rush of cold air swept into the empty bar, and he stilled.  Barely breathing, he remained frozen, unable to raise his head and look.  He couldn’t bear to look. 

Although the low from finding out he was wrong would be nothing compared to the gaping hole in his heart if he lost her completely.

Footsteps sounded, nearing closer to him.  The click-clack of heels across the hardwood floors. 

Her scent drifted over him, light and clean with a touch of honeysuckle. 

He’d enjoyed tasting it on her skin, on those days when she’d stay in bed with him.  Long, lazy days where he could spend time at his leisure, running his lips over each plane of her smooth, supple body. 

“Lucas.”

At the sound of her voice, sweet and soft with a touch of uncertainty, he looked up finally.

And he fell in love all over again. 

It happened each time he looked at her without fail.  He’d fall a little deeper, a little harder.

Except he hadn’t seen her in what felt like eternity, so this time as he soaked up the sight of her beautiful face, he fell so hard it felt like he’d jumped off a building and crashed into concrete, heart-first. 

“You came.”  His voice sounded gritty and harsh.  Hoarse and thirsty. 

The empty vacancy he’d felt the moment she’d walked out vanished the instant he saw her.  He studied every pixel of her beloved face, searching for answers. 

“The bar is empty.”  She looked around, nervously, as though it made her uneasy to be around him alone. 

“I rented it for the day.”

“I was surprised Harry brought me here,” she said, looking down at her hands.

He slipped off the bar stool and pulled the one closest to him out, gesturing for her.  “Will you have a seat?” he croaked.

Shit, he hadn’t even sounded like that when he was going through puberty.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, but she nodded, shrugging her coat off and folding it in half in her arms, before she settled herself on the stool.

The bartender appeared from nowhere.  “Would you like a drink?”

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.  She looked like she’d happily down a bottle of tequila, but she requested a glass of shiraz.  A few moments later, the bartender slid a generous glass in front of her before disappearing once more.

Even though he’d been specific about his expectations, he was nonetheless thankful for the discretion. 

If this was the worst moment of his life, he wanted no witnesses to his pain and suffering.

And if it was the best, then he selfishly wanted it all to himself.

She sipped at her wine, not meeting his eyes.

Okay.  He could deal with that.  He deserved it, after all.  He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to start the conversation. 

But then she spoke, her voice soft and sweet.  It felt like being coated in honey, listening to her.  “How’ve you been?”

He looked at her. 

Small talk or the ugly truth?

“Truthfully?”

He paused, taking in a deep breath before going all or nothing.

“I’ve been a fucking disaster.”

She inhaled sharply at his words, and she jerked her head up so she could meet his eyes so fast, she was sure she’d gotten whiplash.

It was hard, sitting here next to him.

Not being able to touch him.

Not feeling his touch on her.

When she’d asked Harry to take her to him, she hadn’t known what to expect.

From him or from her.

During the drive, she weaved in and out of possible outcomes.

Maybe she’d see him and tell him to go take a friendly jump off a cliff or maybe she would run straight into his arms, and they’d ride off into the sunset.  Even though she hadn’t looked at the letter since she’d finished reading it, bits and pieces floated in her consciousness. 

I couldn’t believe my luck…My dream girl.

I would rather be paralyzed in time, motionless, with you than move on to a future with someone else.

Quite simply, my love, you fucking own me.

When they were together, she’d guessed at his affection because she could see it in his eyes. 

The way he handled her body with reverence and care, even while he was roughly fucking her senseless.

But he’d lied—whether by omission or directly, she knew from experience that once trust was damaged, it was difficult to repair. 

But after reading his words, it would be difficult to walk away from him. 

To walk away from them.

She’d had yet another shock when she stepped out of the car after Harry opened the door.  Only one foot was on the sidewalk when she looked up and her mouth dropped open.

It was the bar where she’d met him for the first time.

Harry coughed into his hand, and she finally closed her mouth, turning to look at him.

It should have been strange.  This man could quite possibly become her stepfather, and the fact that he had Jeannie Harlow tittering and blushing like a schoolgirl and moving halfway across the country, the air between them should have been forced, cautious. 

But his bright eyes smiled at her, and he spoke for the second time since he’d rolled down the window. 

“He’s a good man, Miss Harlow.  Give him a chance.” He nodded at her before he shut the door behind her. 

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to call her Sophie again, but she knew she was stalling.

He was behind those doors.

And now he sat next to her, his pupils so wide and dark, his eyes gleamed onyx.  He was a proud man, but she could see pleading in those eyes.

Begging for a chance.

It was hard to look at him directly at first.  After she walked in, each step that brought her closer to him sent her brain into short circuits and her heart on a marathon sprint. 

He let her come to him.

She appreciated that because as things continued to spiral out of control, she needed to own some piece of what was happening to her. 

He’d lost some weight. 

Not a lot, but the planes of his beautiful face seemed more angular.  The stubble on his cheeks told her he hadn’t shaven in a few weeks.

And it was barely perceptible, but she could see that underneath his beautiful gray eyes, the skin had darkened. 

The only times she’d ever noticed that was after he’d spent several nights awake, handling a critical emergency with the business.

His written words whispered over her again.

Nothing worth having is every an easy journey.

For the last four years, you’ve been the first thing I’ve seen in the morning, even before I open my eyes. 

Almost as if it had a mind of its own, her right hand lifted until she cupped his jaw in her palm.  His eyes widened.

She was just as surprised, and she was sure he could tell, but she didn’t pull away.  He was a flame, and she the moth.  Before she could pull away, he set his own hand atop hers, squeezing gently as he held it in place.

He leaned against her touch and closed his eyes.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming….and if I am, I don’t want to wake up.”

In that moment, pieces of her heart began to float.  They began to lift in the air and piece themselves back together in a whole.  Some of the edges were still jagged, but they would smooth out over time.

And she knew, she just knew with every cell in her being that even though damaged trust was hard to repair, what she felt for this man laying his soul bare…

What he felt for her…

It was worth fixing.

It was beyond worth fixing because she knew once they did—and they would—it would be beyond bliss. 

“I’m pretty fucking miserable too,” she whispered.  “I was hoping you could fix that.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

He crowded her in the empty elevator, barely giving her space to move.

But she wanted to be crowded.

Her eyes danced with a light that was still a little dim, but he swore he would make it brighter.  It might take some time, but he would spend the rest of his life making her happy.

“So we were in the same bar we met in.  And now we’re in the same hotel we first, um—” She blushed, and he found it enchanting.

He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes still open, lips barely touching.

But when he spoke, his lips brushed against hers.  “The same hotel we first made love?”

His head moved lower, so he could taste the soft skin at the base of her neck.  She let out a breathy little moan when he pressed a kiss against it too.

“The same hotel where I fucked you the first time?”  He continued to press kisses along her neck and then his mouth traveled along the curve of her shoulder and then back up to her ear. 

  She shuddered, and he couldn’t blame her.  He could barely talk as he cornered her in the elevator and allowed his hands to journey along the soft, supple form they’d gone without for far too long.

“The same hotel where you threw a vibrator at my head?”

It took a few moments before he felt her stiffen against him.

“Excuse me?”  Her voice was still breathy, but stern nonetheless.

His eyes burned into hers.

“The same hotel where I joined my body to yours?  The same hotel where the instant we connected, I knew my being, both physical and spiritual, would never be the same unless it was joined with yours?”

She sagged against the wall and blinked furiously at the moisture he was sure would spill.