Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (168 page)

He smacks my ass again, then grips the flesh and makes it jiggle. “This pussy,” he says, sliding a finger through my core and eliciting a needy moan from me, “is mine for the taking. Isn’t it, Celeste? Say it!”

“It’s yours,” I say. I can hardly think, my body is running on pure hormonal lust. The cold lacquered wood clashes against the heat of my skin.

“Louder,” he growls. He positions his cock right at my entrance. I can feel it there, so tantalizingly close. “Tell me what you came here to do.”

“To get fucked.”

“Louder!” he commands.

“TO GET FUCKED!” I scream, and he gives a guttural sound of pleasure.

“Damn right,” he mutters, and plunges into me.

My eyes open wide, and I gasp at the first hard entrance. He rams himself into me with full force, without mercy. He takes hold of my legs and positions them to his liking. Every time he forces himself in, I slide against the desk. My breasts slap against my body. His hips slam into mine. I lose myself in the intense pleasure, in the ferocity with which he fucks me. This is what I wanted. This is exactly, what I came here to get. Oh, God, oh God, yes…

“Harder!” I beg. He’s already attacking me with unrelenting passion, but I want
more
. “Please, dear God, James, harder, harder!”

He bends at the waist and leans his torso over me as his hips continue to pulse. He swipes away my hair to expose one ear. “You’re fucking mine,” he grunts, the gritty hoarseness of his words sending my pleasure to new heights. “You hear that, Celeste? You’re my lover, nobody else’s.” He smacks my ass, hard. Shit, it’s going to be red for days. “You’re fucking mine. Understand? Mine. Mine. Mine!” His hands tighten around my neck, and he takes a strangle hold. I can’t breathe. Blood stops flowing to my brain as exquisite waves of ecstasy run through me.

“Say it,” he growls. His breath is hot against my skin. His passion is frightening. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“I…I…I’m yours!” I gasp.

He releases my neck, and all the blood comes rushing back. He rips out and takes the condom off and shoots hot cum all over me.

While I lie there gasping, trying to comprehend all that happened and what I admitted, he turns me to him by the chin and kisses my lips.

“Now,” he promises, “I’m going to make you come.”

22.

Another hour we spend fucking.

If not more.

His stamina is astounding. When I thought he was done, he surprised me with one more. Then another. Then one more.

Halfway through, somebody knocked. It scared me and took me out of the moment. But James ignored the sound and just continued on. It’s like another gear was unleashed in him. And coming
so close
to discovery made me go wild. It made me crave him even more.

By the end, we’re lying together in the middle of his damn floor, exhausted and satiated and utterly consumed by each other. I don’t think either of us has the energy left to speak.

James rouses first. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “Christ,” he says.

I smile up at him, content as a newborn kitten. I reach out and brush my hand along his thigh. It’s a languid movement, soft and lazy. My brain cannot process anything else yet.

He looks me over. I can feel his eyes on my skin, feel them take in every smooth curve and ugly imperfection. Lord knows I have a lot of them.

But he doesn’t notice. He just looks at me and he sees… well, I don’t’ know what he sees. But I’m sure as hell that he doesn’t see
me
. He doesn’t see the girl who is dying on the inside, the one who hides so much from all those around her…

The one who hides the most from herself.

Suddenly I feel very self-conscious.

I bolt up. James looks startled. “Where are you going?” he asks.

“Out,” I say shortly. I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that the woman he thinks he sees is an illusion. I can’t tell him how damn vulnerable I feel or how many of my rules I’ve broken just being here. I can’t tell him of the guilt, the confusion that’s tearing me up inside.

I can’t tell him anything. He has no right to know. Nobody does. That’s the way I want it, until the very end.

When that end comes? Well, I’ll be like the woman struck by the bus. One minute I’m here; the next I’m gone. There won’t be collateral damage. Nobody else will be hurt. I’ll be the only one who disappears, like a candle snuffed out by a gust of wind.

A candle with a very, very short wick.

“Celeste? What’s wrong?”

James’ voice rouses me to attention. I realize that I’m standing, one arm on the table, hunched over… trembling.

Crying
? No, dammit, I’m not that weak. I’m not crying. Why the fuck would I cry?

I blink away the wetness in my eyes. James steps up behind me. He tries to hold me, but I pull away.

“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t—don’t touch me.”

“Celeste?” His voice is muddled by confusion. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I say. “Just –fine.” Angry, I wipe away the moisture on my cheeks. I keep my back to him so he can’t read my emotions.

I spot my clothes on the floor and make a beeline for them. I pick them up and put them on in short, quick jabs.

Utter silence fills the office. I don’t dare look at James.

I can still feel his eyes on me.

“Thanks for the… fuck,” I say. I wince. My voice is unsteady.

It’s too late to take the words back now.

“Hey.” He snatches my arm and twists me to look at him. “You better tell me what the fuck you’re doing…”

But when he sees my red eyes, his words die. His grip weakens.

That gives me the chance I need to escape.

Confused, reeling, and embarrassed, I flee the office alone.

***

My heart doesn’t slow until I’m back in my own apartment, locked inside my room.

The apartment was empty when I arrived. Now that I’m here… safely here, far away from James… I sag against the door and sink to the floor.

I put my head between my knees and close my eyes. I will not cry. I hate crying. Even though my insides feel like they’re being ripped to shreds, I will not succumb to the emotion.

I take a series of slow, deep breaths. They’re meant to be steady but come out in sputters.

They’re a testament to all the feeling storming inside me.

Guilt. Regret. Sadness. These aren’t things I was supposed to feel. But now that trifecta of emotions sits at the forefront.

I hate it. I hate the sudden instability, the loss of inhibition. I hate that all this came about from apparently nothing.

Just from my own weakness. Just from my own flaws.

That’s why I struggle so much to let people in. That’s why I can’t let people get close. Even Summer, purportedly my best friend? Our friendship is only skin deep. I don’t
really
know her, and she sure as hell doesn’t know me.

But for a time, I was fine with that. It was exactly what I needed. When we reconnected this past summer, I shut down her attempts to really dig deep. She’d wanted to know all that happened in our five-year separation. I told her as little as I could. Most things I kept way, way down.

She sensed it, I bet, but she didn’t press. She had her secrets, too. Not asking for mine meant she didn’t have to share hers.

The two of us developed this sort of false camaraderie, based in part on our past friendship and in part on our reluctance to share. We saw each other exactly as we wanted the world to see us. Everything was—and still is—only skin deep.

Maybe that’s why I reacted so poorly to her insistence to go to the hospital with me. Lines were crossed… but there were never lines we explicitly agreed on. They were unspoken and invisible.

Just like with James.

I went to him needing one thing. And I got it: He fucked me well.

I need to remember that. Our relationship can only be based on sex. Sex, lust, passion… but no feelings.

23.

Summer steps through the doors of our apartment carrying a truckload of books. She sees me in the kitchen, shoots me a nasty glare, and storms into her room.

I wash my hands under the kitchen tap, dry them, and go out to face the music.

I find Summer setting up shop on her desk. She’s dumped the books, taken out her notes, and propped open her laptop.

She pretends not to see me.

“Summer…”

“
Studying!
” she says, a bit obnoxiously.

“Summer, I want to talk.”

“Yeah? Well tough fucking luck, ‘cause I don’t.” She stalks out to the couch and pulls out our secret silver chest, then slides it across the floor to me. “Go on, here, have fun. It’ll take the edge off.” Her eyes shoot up to mine. I can see the anger boiling beyond those lids. “God knows you need some relief.”

“Summer, I’m not going to masturbate,” I say, a bit angry but not too much. I can’t get baited into a repeat of lunch. “I want to talk so I can apologize.”

She shakes her head and plugs her ears with headphones. “
Studying,
” she mouths, looking at her screen.

“Dammit, Summer! Listen to me!” I reach over and pull her earbuds out. She glowers back.

“Look,” I sigh. “Today, at lunch, I was a bitch.”

“You can say that again.”

“But the reason I did it is because I don’t want you to worry.” Here comes the lie. “The hospital called me for a quick follow-up. It’s nothing interesting. Not important.”

She crosses her arms. “Well, you sure made it seem important when you were so adamant about going alone.”

“That’s just the point,” I say. “It
wasn’t
. That’s why I made it into a big deal. That was a mistake. I was being stupid. It’s my fault.”

“No kidding.”

“And I really didn’t think you should miss Professor Landon’s class for it. Seeing as, you know,” I try a smile. “You adore him and all.”

“I just wanted to look out for you,” she admits. “I thought that’s what besties are supposed to do.”

“They do, yeah,” I say. I reach out and put my hand on hers. She doesn’t pull away. “And to show you I’m sorry… I made some dinner.”

“You—what?” Summer looks up at me. “Girl, are you crazy? You can’t cook!”

“I followed a recipe online,” I shrug.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Why?”

“As a… peace offering?” I attempt.

I wait… and relief blooms through when Summer finally smiles. “Yeah,” she says. “Fine. I accept. Hell, Celeste, I can’t stay mad at you.”

“And I don’t want you to.” I smile back. Now it’s time for the bluff. “And if you really want… you can come with me to the hospital tomorrow.”

“And miss my favorite class?” she laughs. “Nah. Nah, you say it’s no big deal, and I trust you.”

***

I trust you.

Those words haunt me all through dinner. As I pretend everything is all rosy, I want to scream at her that
NO
, she shouldn’t trust me, and that
NO
, I do not deserve that trust.

Instead, I keep quiet and shoot the shit about regular, everyday things.

After the make-up dinner we head to our separate bedrooms. I’m ready to call it a night.

I change for bed. As I’m getting in, I spot my phone out of the corner of my eye. I haven’t turned it on yet.

“Time to face the music,” I mutter, and hit the power.

Just as I expected, there are dozens of missed calls from James. A notification says he’s left voicemail. But I hate listening to messages, so I dial the number and erase them all before I can even hear one.

I debate—but not too seriously—calling him back. There are definitely things we need to discuss. But, I’m not ready yet.

He takes the decision out of my hands when he calls
me
.

I jump, startled that he would try again so late. The ringtone fills the room.

Should I pick up? Not doing so is just delaying the inevitable. We need to talk. And it’s not like I can just hide from him. I’ll be seeing him in lecture soon.

I answer. “Hello?”

“Celeste,” he growls. He doesn’t sound happy. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Home,” I say. “I don’t like your tone of v—“

“You ran out on me,” he interrupts.

My back stiffens. “Yeah. So?”

“So?” he sounds incredulous. “Don’t tell me ‘so,' Celeste. Dammit, woman, I’ve been worried about you!”

My heart skips a beat.
He was worried?

But I don’t let my enthusiasm show. I
can’t
. I’ve got to shut it up and make sure it never comes out again.

I cannot be vulnerable to him.

Instead: “It’s not your place to worry.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” he grunts. “Where are you? We need to talk.”

“I’m in my apartment! We’re talking right now.”

“Face-to-face,” he says. “I’ll pick you up. Be outside in five minutes.”

Then he hangs up.

I stare at the phone in my hand. He’s coming
here
? No, no. No, no, no I can’t let him do that.

I call him back.

“James,” I begin, “anything you need to say can be said over the phone.”

“I’m coming to see you,” he tells me. “I won’t take no for an answer. You don’t get a choice. Be down in five minutes, or else—“

“Or else what?” I cut in, feeling a surge of anger at his fucking presumptuous act. “What are you going to do, James?”

“If you don’t come down, I’m coming up,” he says.

I wince. James, arriving at our doorstep, with Summer here? That’ll be an even bigger disaster than whatever the fuck is going on right now.

“No,” I say quickly. “Don’t do that. I…” I give an exasperated sigh. “I’ll come down. I’ll be waiting.”

“Don’t be late.”

24.

Five minutes later, I’m out in the chilly street, huddling into my jacket and keeping an eye out for James. The day’s warmth did not carry over to the night.

A black Porsche rips down the street and skids to a halt curbside. A tinted window rolls down. James looks at me.

“Get in.”

I shake my head in frustration but walk around to the other side. Who does this man think he is, bossing me around like this?