The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (46 page)

“Jesus, Aby,” he whispers as my pussy clenches down on him. His pace quickens, his cock pushing in and out in long measured strokes, sliding deeper and deeper inside me.

Gasping, I claw at his back, pulling and tugging to get him closer, to distract him from his need for connection. My attempts are fruitless against his maintained hold of my gaze. Wrapping my legs tightly around his hips, I meet his strokes measure for measure.

Sweat slickened skin entangled amid jagged breaths, I lose myself in the most intense sexual experience of my life. I’ve never felt more important than in this moment. Never loved someone so much. I feel my heart breaking as my orgasm rushes forward. My body tenses in impending climax, his cock plunging further and further into my soul, pounding inside me over and over. Deep, sure thrusts, one after the other, against every sensitive corner inside, frantically reaching for another earth-shattering orgasm. To put an end to this intense connection.

“Come for me,” he whispers softly, his own pleasure written all over his face.

Desire seeps up my spine, tingles gnawing their way through my belly at his command. My body jolts with my released guttural cry, lost to the most powerful orgasm of my life. His final thrust careens through my euphoria as he loses himself inside me.

Coming back down from my leap into orgasmic bliss, I lose all rationale and control. Every ounce of emotion I’ve been harbouring crashes through me, stinging my eyes with tears. Like a dam breaking apart, I begin crying uncontrollably, sobs wracking my body.

“Aby? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know . . . nothing . . . everything . . . ” I can barely manage the words, let alone make any sense of how I’m feeling.

“Everything? Aby, talk to me,” he gently caresses my face, his eyes laced with sweet concern. Almost fear.

Oh God, why is this happening right now?
I don’t know what to say to him. I have nothing to say that can reassure him. I can’t even reassure myself.
There’s so much he isn’t aware of since Julia’s visit. And after my omission about Ben—or, according to Alex, my
lie
—I’m now keeping even more from him.

Unable to control my sobbing, I push his arm away, trying to manoeuvre out from under him. I catch a glimpse of confused alarm cross his face as he gives way to my escape, before I stand and turn away, covering my face with my hands. I can’t bear to look him in the eye. Not right now.

“Aby, please . . . Why are you crying?”

Unmoving, I offer no reply. What can I say to him? Standing naked before him, I feel vulnerable, scared. Frantically, I reach for my robe slung over the chair, sliding it over my shoulders, tying it securely around my waist.

“Does this have anything to do with Andrew being here again today?” Alex’s tone is suddenly laced with anger, though it seems he’s trying to hide it. Despite his efforts, it hits a nerve within me. A very pinched nerve that has been waiting to explode. The build of my emotional rollercoaster, combined with my lingering inebriation has created an uncontrollable volcano, it’s lava about to spill over.

Removing my handed shield from my face, I look towards him seated on the edge of the bed, my gaze menacing with uncontrolled disdain, “This has
nothing
to do with Andrew.”

He looks taken aback at my biting reply. “Oh? This is the second time I’ve returned from a trip to find him here with you. Not to mention that both times you were upset.”

“How do you know I was upset the first time? And, more importantly, what makes you think it had, or
has,
anything to do with Andrew?”

“So, you were upset last week. I suspected . . . ”

“You
suspected?
Well, how observant of you. You certainly didn’t say anything to suggest you had any idea that something was bothering me then. Oh, and for the record, Sherlock, I was upset about your dear friend Ben. Ringing any bells?”

He winces at my mention of Ben. If I wasn’t so consumed with built up rage, I’d be able to give in to the slight pull of my heart at his pained expression. The emotional alcohol-fuelled cocktail running through my veins is too strong to fight.

“You shared that with Andrew? You spoke to him about what happened with Ben, when you couldn’t even tell me?”

I choke back renewed tears. “I didn’t tell Andrew anything! He was just here as a friend . . . and that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Your jealously over Andrew!”

“No! Jesus. Stop twisting my words. What’s going on with you? One minute we’re making love, the next you’re crying, and now . . . ”

“Now what?”

“Now . . . I don’t know . . . I guess we’re back to your friend Andrew.”

Oh my God!
I just want to scream.
I’m trying to deal with living in your FUCKED UP WORLD, and you want to talk about Andrew? With all the shit I’m dealing with from your lot!

Fuelled by my inner diatribe, I turn to face him, “Andrew is a friend
.
A nice guy that lives next door. That’s all. It’s not like he’s a
fuck buddy.
” I’m almost proud of my sarcastic stretching of the biting description.

His jaw clenches. “That’s great, Aby. You’re drunk and resorting to low-blows. Well done,” he stands from the bed to pull on his jeans.

“If I’m throwing low-blows, Mr. Tate, it’s because I’ve been dodging them for weeks myself.”

“Do enlighten me, Miss Ryan,” his eyebrow raises above his clenched jaw as he looks towards me, halting the closure of his jeans mid-stride.

Ha!
I’ve heard that request before. The reminder of the first night we met sends me into sarcastic laughter. “
Enlighten you?
That’s the same damn request that lead us down this road, isn’t it? My welcome entry into your world and all it’s fucked-up-ness!”

He looks as though I’ve hit him in the stomach with a wrecking ball.

My spewing molten lava burns me from the inside out. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I sit down on the bed, my head hung in regret as I realize the destruction of my eruption.

We remain in place, surrounded by silence, minutes seeming like hours. Finally finding the courage, I look up to him. Staring down at me, pain etching his beautiful blue eyes, I feel a quick pang to my heart. As much as I want to get up and go to him, to make the pain disappear, erase everything I’ve just said and done . . . I can’t.

I lower my eyes, staring at the floor in shame. “Alex, I . . . I think I should leave London,” I whisper.

“Leave? To go where?”

“To go home.”

His released breath pulls my gaze back to his. Running his hands through his hair, his pained expression is laced with bewildered shock. “Aby . . . Shit,” he begins pacing the floor where I finished moments ago. “Jesus . . . we just made love for fuck’s sake.” He stops his incessant pacing to look at me, “And now you’re telling me you’re leaving?” I’m unable to respond as he walks towards me. “Why?” he asks, looking down into my eyes.

“Alex, please . . . ”

“Tell me why, Aby!”

“I don’t . . . belong here. With you.”

Dropping to his knees, he takes my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.

I can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes. I love him. The last thing I want to do is hurt him. Unable to face him, I pull my head away.

He flinches at my abrupt withdrawal. “This is the wine talking, Aby. You’ve had a terrible morning . . . ”

“I don’t fit in your world, Alex. I was a fool to think I could . . . or at least to try to see if I could.”

“My world? Look at me . . . God dammit . . . look at me!” he pleads, turning my face towards him once more. “Aby, my world has been turned upside down since I met you. Don’t you know that?”

Though I’m looking into his stunning blue eyes, listening to his words, I no longer see him. I’ve finally relented. They were right. They are right. I have no future with this man. I’m the ‘nobody’ that doesn’t belong. The girl that came along and disrupted his life, his world. At least Alex can now admit it. “Yes, I do know that. That’s why I’m leaving.”

“No, listen to me. I’ve been waiting for so long for someone to come into my life. Someone like you! These past few weeks . . . they’ve been amazing. You’re amazing . . . ”

“You don’t have to do this. I knew from the start that this—whatever
this
is . . . or was . . . ” My gaze is straying, focusing on the wall behind him, the carpeted floor, whatever I can look at to avoid seeing his pleading eyes. How do I tell this man that I anticipated heartbreak? From the beginning I knew this would happen. It was an inevitable conclusion. Can I not leave with a little dignity? He’s certainly acting the part beautifully, a gentleman right to the end.

“What this
is.
Not was. I knew from the start that I wanted you. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you walk away from me now. Look at me! Tell me this is the wine talking. I’m so sorry about what happened this morning . . . the media. Fuck. Please don’t let them run you off. Don’t let them ruin what we have.”

I hear him, though his words are muddled, inaudible blurs. “Alex . . . ” I shake my head.

“Is it Ben?” he’s searching my avoiding gaze, “I’m sorry about Ben!”

“Please stop. Stop apologizing. Nothing that’s happened is your fault. It’s me. You have this amazing career . . . You’re such a wonderful man,” I finally look at him.

“Then don’t leave me.” He searches my eyes, though I know there’s nothing there for him to find. I feel dead inside. My heart is shattered into a million tiny bits and I have no fight left in me.
They’ve
sucked it all out.

“This isn’t the wine talking. The wine was talking when I asked you to fuck me. This is reality setting in. Eventually we have to face that this fling . . . ”

“This fling? I didn’t fuck you! Aby, look at me! I made
love
to you! Didn’t it mean anything?”

Oh God, more than you know.
And that’s all you need to hear isn’t it? I can give you that. If that’s what you need. “Yes, Alex. It did . . . ”
It meant so much more than I can say.

Taking my hands in his, he lays his head in my lap, “You don’t know what that means to me. Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me you’re not leaving me . . . ”

The stress of late compounds inside me at that moment. I’m done arguing. I’m done talking. Looking into his beautifully statuesque face, I nod my head in agreement.

Releasing a sigh, he wraps his arms around me, lifting to place me back down on the bed. Lying beside me, he looks into my eyes before leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to my lips. I give in to him fully, enjoying this wonderful man, my broken heart enveloped in his every touch.

I LOVE YOU too, Alex . . .
Lost in dream-filled slumber, I slowly stir to his touch—his gentle caress along my cheek.

“I’ll see you in a few days, baby,” he whispers, his soft lips brushing mine.

Mumbling incoherently, I turn, snuggling into the pillow.

My eyes dart open to find I’m alone. Realization sets in that he’s gone—his kiss goodbye lingering, intertwined with peaceful dreams.
I didn’t get to hug him goodbye.
My heart is in my throat—so many things left unsaid, unfinished. I embrace myself instinctively in the sheets laced with his lingering scent.

Glancing at the clock, I note it’s not even dawn, despite my mind’s sudden wakefulness—thoughts of Alex and our night together replaying. Our evening took a turn after my acquiescence to his pleas. I tried my hardest to hide my true feelings—my portrayal of happiness successfully blinding him to the constant turmoil inside me—my shredding heart.

His demeanor did a complete one-eighty, the pain that had been etched on his face eradicated by my stellar performance. Replaced instead with the relaxed and confident man I know so well as we cuddled watching a movie before climbing into bed in the comfort of each other’s arms.

I was once again the successful participant in a charade, my years of practice training me well.
What a waste of a performance
—my reality is crashing back ahead of the morning’s sunrise.

How can I rectify the damage I’ve done? How can I minimize its impact on Alex, and his career? I’m so overwhelmed, I actually feel dizzy. Nausea takes hold as Alex’s pain filled eyes flash, once again, through my mind. I can hardly breathe. I expected a broken heart when our relationship came to an end, but this—what I’m feeling at this very moment—is so much more amplified.

Should you stay with someone you love even though you know you’re not good for them? Not right for them?

I wonder if I hadn’t fooled Liam as well as I did, if this is how he would have felt. Would he have chosen to stay anyway—his love for me blinded to the reality of everything around us? Would he have stayed at all cost?

Do I stay with Alex at all cost? Is he even the right one for
me?
This isn’t just about what I’m doing to him . . . I have to think about what it’s doing to me.

Grabbing my iPad from the nightstand, the events of the past few weeks filter through my mind like a kaleidoscope of colors. Meeting and falling in love with Alex—the amazing
Alexander the Great
who’s left an imprint on my heart deeper than I could ever have imagined. The man I’ve fallen so deeply in love with.