The edge of forever, p.18
The Edge of Forever, page 18
Tears start to leak from my eyes and onto his pillowcase. I can’t stop them. Holy God, does this hurt. Part of me knows what’s coming next. I don’t know how I know, because I don’t know exactly when he came to New York, but I can assume and that makes me close my eyes and release a shaky breath. I can’t stand this.
“You did finally come in,” he continues, like he’s not about to rip me apart. “It was close to five in the evening and it was dark and gray and still raining. Your hair was wet because you didn’t have an umbrella, but you were smiling. Laughing with the guy you were with.” My eyes open to his and I see how difficult this confession is for him. “I watched for a few minutes. I couldn’t look away. It had been so long, and you were so beautiful, and just as I stood up to come to you, that guy you were with leaned in and kissed you. He wrapped you up in his arms, lifted you off the ground and kissed you again.”
“So you left?” I’m incredulous. I dated that guy for a few months. That’s it. I knew that’s what he was going to say to me. But it doesn’t lessen the blow.
“I had nothing to offer you, Aria. I was still in college and then I was going to go to medical school. Truth be told, I was still a mess about my dad. You looked happy. I was fucking jealous and hurt. It felt like you had moved on when I couldn’t. You looked really fucking happy, and I wasn’t, and I didn’t know how to interrupt that. In all the years we had been apart, I was never like that with another woman. None of them were smart enough, or wild enough, or beautiful enough, or could recite obscure poetry from memory, or could make me feel alive.
“I was hurt and stupid and I fucked-up. I fucked-up so big with that because a month later, I saw that article in The Times, and then you were gone. And since then, I’ve had nothing but regret for the choices I made with you. I thought I was doing what was best for your life, for our potential future, but life got away from me somehow and then it was too late. You have every right to be mad at me. To accuse me of not coming for you even though I never told you I would. You knew me well enough that I didn’t need to tell you that. It was a forgone conclusion, and I ruined it. But you have to know that I’m sorry. That I wish I could go back and do everything differently. That I want a second chance with you now.”
A sob breaks free and I bury my head in his neck, shaking with my silent tears. He holds me. He holds me so tight and finally when I manage to get control, he pulls back and cups my face, wiping away my residual tears.
“What are you thinking?” he asks softly, his eyes affectionately staring into mine.
“You want my ugly truth?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve been mad at you for a very long time. Even though I never felt I had a right to my anger.”
“Do you want mine?”
“Of course.”
“I loved you for a very long time. Even though I never felt I had a right to deserve you.” A shuddered breath passes my lips. His eyes search mine, endless pools of green that I lose myself in. “Fall in love with me again, Aria” My eyes close. I can’t handle the expression on his face. “Open your eyes and look at me.” I do, but it’s nearly impossible to maintain. “I know you loved me once. You never told me. Not outright. But I know you felt it too. Fall in love with me again,” he repeats. “I’m not going anywhere. This is real and it’s happening and I’m not going anywhere.”
His lips crash into mine. Long. Deep. Perfect. He came to New York for me. And all this time, he’s been unhappy. He’s been missing me. He’s been planning and plotting for us while I’ve gone on, living my life and loving another man. Drew. Christ, Drew. I push thoughts of him aside. I want Weston Kincaid. I want him inside my body. I want him to own me, body and soul. I want to look into his eyes as we come together. I want to feel him in every sore muscle when I get out of bed tomorrow and I want to run and tell my friends about our wild night together.
“Aria, you were attacked tonight,” he whispers against me, trying to stop this before it continues to the place we both want it to go. I shake my head, rolling on top of him, his hands drop to my hips, before he sits up in a flash. We’re eye to eye and nose to nose as he pins me with a look that instantly has my panties wet. I can’t stop myself from rocking into him. God, he’s so hard. So big. So perfect. He groans, his eyes closing for a moment as pleasure surges through him before he opens them again, his grip on my hips stopping any further movement. “You were attacked tonight, baby,” he repeats. “I’m not doing this with you. We still have too much to figure out and I’m not going to blow it this time. I want you, Aria. I’m crazy about you, but I need you to be all in with me before I take you the way I need to take you.”
I roll my eyes at that, but deep down, I know he’s right. If I rush into this with him, I might regret that tomorrow. We’re just so…uncertain. I’m uncertain. And making the decision to sleep with Wes again is not something to be taken lightly. I’m too emotionally vulnerable at the moment and if, when, I have sex with him again, there will be no going back. I will be all in, just as he said.
“You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”
He smirks, rubbing his lips against mine. “Are you kidding me? I’m dying to watch you come. You think being right is fun for me either?” I laugh, shaking my head, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. “I could still do that, you know.” I pull back to meet his eyes, my brows furrowed. “Make you come. I won’t need anything in return. I just want to make you feel good.”
“Wes—” I start, but I don’t know what to say.
Before I can think about what he’s doing, I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. “I’ve fantasized about this so many times, you’d probably never speak to me again if I told you. So, I’m going to make you feel good, and you’re going to shut that big, beautiful brain off. Tell me yes.”
I stare up at him. Stare into his green eyes that are bursting with lust and sincerity and everything I’ve been missing for the last ten years. “Yes.”
He dips down and kisses my lips, our tongues lashing desperately against each other. Sliding his hand under the oversized tee I’m wearing, he cups my breast. He squeezes me, hard enough to make me moan, his fingers rolling my nipple, flicking it. His mouth leaves mine, his lips trailing down as he slides the shirt up. My eyes close and I succumb. I give in to his touch. To the way his warm, wet lips caress my overheated skin. To the pleasure of his fingers as they dip into the boxers I’m wearing, my panties and then inside me.
He growls, the buzz of it vibrating across my nipples where his mouth is devouring me. The base of his palm finds my sensitive clit, pressing in and moving around is delicious circles as he continues to slip two of his fingers in and out of me in the most perfect rhythm ever. I’m so close already. Moans and breathy sighs and heated whimpers escape my lips, one after the other. Don’t stop.
“Never,” he groans and I don’t even care that I begged him out loud when I thought I was keeping my thoughts inside. “So beautiful,” he breathes against my tits. “You’re so tight, Aria. I can’t wait to slip my cock inside you. You’ll take it. All of it. Any way I want to give it to you.”
“Yes,” I pant. That’s exactly what I want. His dirty words and his big cock and his fingers making me fly higher. His hand rubs my clit harder. His fingers finding that perfect spot inside me.
“Come for me, Aria. Come all over my fingers. So hot. So wet. All for me.” That’s it. That’s all it takes. I shatter. The orgasm rising up through me like a tidal wave. I come so hard stars dance behind my eyes. His mouth finds mine, swallowing my cries and when the last of the spasms and aftershocks subside, he kisses me deeper, sweeter.
“That was…” words fail me. I open my eyes slowly, no doubt with a dopey smile on my face. He slips his fingers covered in my arousal into his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied grin on his handsome face. Damn, I think I could love dirty Wes.
He rolls over so he’s above me, staring down into me like he’s never seen me before, but for the first time, I notice just how exhausted he is. A surge of guilt hits me square in the chest. I cup his face and he leans into my hand. “When was the last time you slept, Doctor?”
He half-smirks. “Sleep? Never heard of it.”
I laugh and kiss his jaw. “We have more to talk about.”
“We do. And as much as I’d like to talk and then fuck you into tomorrow, I think it’s already tomorrow. But you were incredible. I hope you’ll let me do that to you again soon. I think you needed that as much as I did.”
“What about you?”
He chuckles. “I already told you, that was about you. I’m fine. Promise. I just want to hold you while we sleep.” I shake my head, not wanting this to be over. Wanting to make him feel as good as he just made me, but he’s wrecked. “When I take you, Aria, there will be no going back. You’ll be mine. For real this time. No more hiding. No more pretending. No more leaving. But now is not the time to figure all that out.”
“So sleep then?”
“Sleep.” We both stare at each other and smile. Leaning in, I kiss his lips. “See you in the morning, baby,” he whispers as he wraps me up in his arms, his body pressed to mine, his voice distant like he’s already half-asleep. He’s out a second later and I stare at his ceiling as uneasiness creeps up my spine, wondering just what that morning will look like.
Chapter Twenty
The moment I open my eyes, I realize three things simultaneously. One, I’m in Wes’s bed, wearing his T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. Two, he’s listening to country music and humming along to it. Three, he’s cooking something that smells out of this world amazing. I can’t figure out which one of these things has me smiling the most. Then his words from last night come crashing down on me with the force of a truck hitting a bunny. I replay them in exact detail. They feel just as excruciating and just as marvelous as they did then. I shouldn’t have slept here. I shouldn’t have fooled around with him.
I slept in Weston Kincaid’s arms last night after he fingered me. I giggle. Like out loud as I roll on my back and make snow angels under his blanket. Then I pause as I think back on Brady and Connor. I don’t even know how things got that far with them. How I allowed myself to be in that position. Last night may, in fact, be one of the most fucked-up nights of my life. Not even including Wes.
And now that the fear has all but dissipated, I’m so goddamn angry. Me aside, I want them to pay for what they did to Josh. How could it not be them? They didn’t even deny it. If anything, they proved they’re very capable of violence. And against women? I don’t know if that was bullshit talk or not. But it’s easily one of the most unsettling things anyone has ever said and done to me. My plan today is to talk to Tyler about it and see what he recommends. He’s a lawyer which automatically makes him more knowledgeable about these matters than I am.
Climbing out of Wes’s extremely comfortable bed, I quickly change out of his clothes and back into what I was wearing last night. I call the hospital and they inform me that Josh is doing well and that they’re thinking about reducing his sedation later today. That’s the best news I’ve heard in a few days.
Creeping out of Wes’s room, I hesitantly pad toward the kitchen. It’s only a little after eight in the morning. Typically, I’m not up this early. I’m a late-night worker and a sleep-in sort of girl. But I want to get out of this confusing place. I want to get back to Josh.
Drew texted me already. Just asking what time I was coming in to the hospital today and that he can’t wait to see me.
I feel sick.
I’m in Wes’s apartment, in Wes’s bed, and my ex-boyfriend is texting me the morning after he tells me he wants to try things again. I just have no words for this and my emotions have run the gamut. I did love Drew. I wouldn’t have stayed with him so long if I didn’t.
And then that crap with Wes’s confession and my painting. He was my first love. Do people ever really get over those? Especially when things are left unfinished? I don’t know. But if I had to guess, given the thoughts I’m having, and the way he makes me feel when I’m with him, and the way I reacted to the things he said to me, I’d say no they don’t.
I cannot fall for Wes again.
I can’t.
He likes country music, and I like indie rock. He’s a doctor, and I’m an artist. I need to tell him where my mind is. That’s what grown-ups do. They communicate and shit.
I’m stalling. It’s pathetic.
The moment I gaze at Wes’s muscled back straining against the soft fabric of his shirt, I wonder if I’ll ever be brave enough to start that talk. I like this Wes. There, I admit it. Because he made me feel good in bed last night without getting anything in return. He made me my favorite dinner last night and this morning he’s making me my favorite breakfast. He came to my rescue at the bar. And he asked me to fall in love with him again. I mean, Jesus. How can I not?
He’s still humming along to some god-awful country song that he clearly knows and loves. I love that he loves country music, and I love indie rock. I love that he’s singing along to it and I can’t because I don’t know the words. I love that he’s a doctor, and I’m an artist. Dammit, Wes. Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me fall for you and then leave me a pitiful, heartbroken mess. I barely survived.
“Smells good,” I say, stepping into the kitchen. I don’t startle him. I wonder if he knew I was there watching him. He’s smiling at me in a way that suggests he did.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek like we’ve been doing this forever. Him making me breakfast and calling me beautiful and kissing my cheek. When did we transition to this point? To this level of intimacy and familiarity. After you let him finger fuck you in his bed. Touché. “You still like blueberry pancakes, right?”
I nod. That’s all I’m capable of because there is a very large lump in my throat obstructing my airway at the moment. “I need to get over to the hospital,” I mention after I clear my throat, changing the subject and going back to business mode.
He frowns, and I can’t help but feel just a bit bad about that. It would be easier if he weren’t making such an effort with me. “I take it I can’t persuade you to spend the day with me then.” I shake my head no and he gives a good-natured shrug. “I figured, but thought I’d try, anyway. How are you feeling after last night?” He gives me an impish grin. “I mean about Connor and Brady.”
“Angry.”
His eyes bore into mine. “I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. I should have also done more than let them get away with a punch and a threat.”
“It’s not your fault. But you can’t tell me you still don’t think they hurt Josh.”
His hand comes up to the back of his neck and he squeezes. Wow, it’s amazing how some things never change. “I guess not,” he says slowly like he still doesn’t want to believe that people he’s known his entire life are capable of such a thing. “Here,” he says, plating two pancakes for me, “sit down and eat.” I do as instructed. The considerate bastard even has butter and real maple syrup waiting on me. And coffee.
I cut into the pancakes and take a bite; the flavors exploding in my mouth. “Wow,” I say through a mouthful of food and not even caring. “These are amazing. I might have to hire you to be my personal chef.”
“I’ll cook for you anytime.” The way he says that has me looking down at my plate to hide my warming cheeks. “Since you won’t spend the day with me, how about dinner tonight?”
“Wes—”
“I have a place in mind I’d like to take you. Seven thirty. I’ll pick you up.”
“Did you get enough sleep?”
He shrugs, continuing on like I didn’t interrupt him. “I want to know what happened to you. Where you went. What you did in those years we were apart.”
“Seriously,” I say ignoring his comment about wanting to know about my life. The life he missed. “You’re like a manic Easter bunny. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?”
Wes tilts his head to the side as if he’s giving my question some genuine thought. “Hmmm… I don’t know. Maybe somewhere around thirty hours. I’ve done shifts that have been longer than that, but I can usually manage a few hours here and there.”
“And they let you cut people open like that?”
He throws me a cheeky grin. “Should I tell you how many sleepless hours I was on when Josh was wheeled into my OR?”
I shake my head adamantly. “Absolutely not. I might throat punch you.” He laughs, leaning over and kissing the side of my head. “Why are you standing?”
“So I can look at you while I eat,” he explains without any hint of sarcasm or artifice.
I have no response for that, which is a growing theme as this morning with him progresses. Yet oddly enough, it’s not awkward. It’s surprisingly comfortable. “What do you do on your days off, Doctor?”
A crooked smile twitches up the corner of his lips, making that dimple in his chin sink in deeper. “If I told you it would blow your mind. It’s that crazy.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh.
He nods, his eyes sparkling. “First, I’m going to start some laundry. After that, I’m going to Whole Foods to get some groceries and a few other things I need. I’ll probably pay some bills and then if I’m lucky, I might get over to the rock climbing gym for an hour or two.”
“You rock climb?”
His smile becomes so big, his whole face lights up. “Yeah. You wanna come? I can teach you.”
“No. I just didn’t know that was something you did.”
“Well,” he begins, popping a bite of pancake into his mouth. I can’t help but watch his mouth as he chews. The damn sexy thing is like a magnet for my eyes. He catches me doing it and winks. I forgot how playful Wes can be. How he likes to flirt. “I didn’t start until I was in medical school and needed a way to reduce the stress.”
