Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (182 page)

“You’re already wet,” he murmurs. His fingers slide past the fabric and slip inside my folds.

I gasp.

He twists them around and starts to pulse them in and out of me. He’s hitting the spot I love.

My hands tangle in his hair. I try to urge him to use his mouth. He growls against my suggestion and plunges his fingers deeper. A third joins in, then a fourth, and suddenly I am so deliciously stretched that my conscious mind retreats, and I float, supported only by the pleasure.

I feel the orgasm building. The climax rises in the distance, ready to swell and take full control. My gasps and moans and cries become more needy. The wet noises his fingers make turn me on like mad. The wave grows, surges closer to me
.
I’m a hair away from it hitting…

He pulls out.

“James!” I gasp, my eyes shooting open. “What the literal fuck?”

He stands up, roughly flips me around, pushes my feet apart. “I want my cock pressed deep inside you when the orgasm hits. I want to feel your muscles clench around me. I want you to come—I want you to come as I’m fucking you, and I want to keep fucking you long after your release, until you fucking give me mine.”

Shivers ripple down my back.

I feel his cock at my entrance. He pushes in. I let out one low, soulful moan. Moments later I’m shattering to pieces, being consumed by the unrivaled orgasm that only James can give.

But just when I think it’s going to let up… it doesn’t. James keeps fucking me, his hips smacking against mine, his grunts and growls as music to my ears. He touches my body, grabs my breasts, pulls my hair, squeezes me tight, and the orgasm just rolls on and on and on, until I’m completely devastated.

“James… James!” I gasp. He doubles his speed. The thrusts pierce my body. I’m afraid I’m going to be split in two. But the pain is so, so worth it because of the accompanying pleasure. There is nothing for this man I wouldn’t do.

And then he pulls out and comes all over my back. His hot semen scorches my heated, sweaty skin. I love that feeling—love the possessiveness it conveys.

This is my woman, James says when he comes on me. She is mine, and this marks her as such.

James draws my hair back, presses his lips to my ear, and whispers, “Celeste… I think you’re the one.”

***

I’m too shocked to speak. James must take my silence as acceptance. He takes my hand and walks me to the shower. We wash off together.

I go through the motions, but I’m lost in a trance. I told James last week I was falling for him. But for him to say the same thing back…?

I hope it’s just him speaking in the heat of the moment. He can’t
really
mean that, can he?

But everything I’ve learned about James points to one simple fact: Yes. Yes, he very well can.

I can’t let him fall. If the cancer takes over…

It would destroy him.

4.

I let James assume the only thing wrong with me was my heart.

I’m a horrible liar.

I can’t hide the chemo symptoms for much longer. It’s like putting makeup over a sweltering black eye.

It’s only going to get worse.

I was swayed by James to stay after my last (failed) escape. I can’t give in next time.

I am only
the one
for him when he sees the face I show to the world. I am not ever
the
one if he finds out who I truly am.

James does not deserve such deception. He needs somebody real. Honest. Truthful.

He can’t fall in love with a weak, sickly coward like me.

I decide to end things that weekend. After the big dinner. He asked me to come; I owe him that much.

But after, it will all be over.

5.

“Celeste? Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I call back. “Almost. Give me another minute.”

“We’re going to be late…”

“I know. I know! Just one minute, that’s all. Go start the car! I’ll meet you in the garage.”

James grumbles something, but then I hear the main door open and close.

As soon as he’s gone I rush to the toilet and vomit into the bowl.

Oh God.

I shudder as I stand up. I hate what these drugs are doing to my body.

This isn’t really living. If I have fifty-fifty odds, I’d almost rather say fuck it, forego chemo, and take the greater risk.

At least that way I wouldn’t feel completely awful all the time.

I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. I gargle, then, just to be sure, brush again.

I take a deep breath, compose myself, and look in the mirror.

I’ve been fussing over my appearance all afternoon. Seeing how this is really the first—and last—public outing I’ll have with James, I wanted to make him proud.

I’m wearing a strapless, purple dress. The fabric is silky soft. He surprised me with it this morning. It was an absolute perfect fit.

I’ve done my makeup to the nines. My lipstick is a deep, velvety red, a color that clashes with my eyes and stands out against my pale skin. I curled my hair and put it up. Around my neck is a borrowed (Thanks, Angela!) diamond drop pendant platinum necklace.

My cell buzzes. I jump. There’s a text on the screen:

Him:
Where are you?

I take one last look in the mirror, fight down the urge to vomit, and text back:

Me:
Coming!!

I take the elevator down and find the Porsche idling in the garage. I smile at James and slide into the seat.

“Wow,” he murmurs. “Celeste, you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” I say softly, reaching back to pull the seat belt across my body. “Shall we go?”

“No, Celeste, I mean—you look
stunning
. You’re going to knock everybody out.”

He leans over. “Come here,” he growls, and he kisses me, damn hard.

When he lets go, I’m a flustered mess. I smile nervously. He touches my cheek.

“There,” he says. “A bit more color in your skin does you good.”

Then he grins, guns the engine, and peels off.

***

I hadn’t asked James where dinner would be. I assumed it was at the faculty club on campus.

But I’m surprised when he turns his car and weaves his way toward the Gold Coast.

We pull up in front of a splendid hotel. James steps out and gives the valet his keys. He offers me his arm.

I take it and sneak a very conspicuous glance at his amazing outfit. He’s in a black Armani suit, a crisp white dress shirt beneath. The cufflinks, I notice for the first time, match the brilliant green of his eyes.

I try to act a little bit aloof, unsure of how intimately he wants to be seen with me in public. But my concerns are extinguished when he tugs me right to his body, and with his free hand, squeezes my ass.

I swat him away. “James!” I admonish, blushing. “We’re in public!”

“And I don’t give a damn,” he says.

My insides flush with pride.

There’s a full reception room. James and I make our way through the crowd. He stops to make small talk here and there, introducing me to some of his friends, some of his colleagues.

I see a few familiar faces. At least two of my other professors are present. Thankfully, James does not seem to know them. No awkward introductions required.

“See?” James whispers to me after nearly an hour of socializing. “Everybody loves you. You’re doing great.”

I give a small, tight smile back. My stomach’s been acting up for the last fifteen minutes. It’s taken all I have not to run to the washroom.

I hear a small ripple of excited voices on the other side of the room. James stands taller to look over the heads. “Ah,” he says. “The dean’s just arrived. Come, Celeste. I want to introduce you. He’s the one who made the perfect pitch to keep me here when other universities tried to poach me.” He winks. “He’s the one who helped position me on the inside track for tenure, too. I owe a lot to him.”

“Okay,” I say. I remember the dean from the introduction assembly first week. He was a handsome, confident man of forty with a natural charisma about him. Summer swooned a little when she saw him.

James wraps an arm around my back and leads me forward. I pick up a glass of water from one of the tables on our way. I take delicate sips in an effort to calm my rolling insides.

There’s a small crowd around him. They part when they notice James and me approach. The dean sees James and smiles wide.

But when I see his companion, my stomach falls to the floor.

It’s Summer.

“James! My good friend, how wonderful to see you.” The dean steps forward to grasp James by the shoulders, leaving Summer behind.

She and I stare at each other.
Shock
isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I feel.

Then she tips her head to the side and gives me a nasty but oh-so-sweet smile.

“Alfred,” James says. “Let me introduce you to Celeste, my…” he falters when his eyes land on Summer.

” …date,” he finishes with a cough.

Alfred holds out his hand to me. “How do you do?” he asks.

“Fine, thank you,” I reply. I keep eying Summer, who simply smiles at me. I can’t for the life of me figure out if there’s any malevolence behind that grin.

“And this is…?”

“Ms. Blair,” James finishes for Alfred.

“You’re acquainted?” Alfred seems surprised.

“Oh yes,” James answers. “She’s a student of mine.”

“As is Celeste,” Summer offers sweetly.

Alfred looks a bit taken aback. But his confusion lasts only a half moment. “Well!” he claps his hands together. “Isn’t that just wonderful? Say, James, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

I lose the rest of their conversation as the two men turn for the bar, leaving me alone with Summer.

Now this isn’t awkward at all.

“Hello, Celeste,” she purrs. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. I look over to James and Alfred, who are already a long way off.

“Don’t you have something to say to me?” Summer asks.

“Why?” I snap at her. “What, we’re on speaking terms, now?”

She flips her hair back, steps to me, and takes my arm.

My instinct is to pull away. I fight it.

“Of course we are, sweetie,” she says. She starts in the opposite direction of James and Alfred. “Why? Do you think we shouldn’t be?”

‘’I wasn’t the one who broke things off in the first place,” I mutter.

She looks at me empathetically. “I know. I’m sorry. I was—a bitch.”

I stop short. “What?”

“You heard me,” Summer says. “I went full-on psycho on you. Friends don’t do that sort of thing.”

“No,” I say. “They most definitely don’t.” Then I add, “Good thing we aren’t that any longer.”

Summer giggles. “Oh, Celeste. You never were a very good liar. Come here. I’ve missed you!”

She surprises me by enveloping me in a big, warm hug.

I remain stiff against her.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Summer pouts. “I said I’m sorry. I overreacted. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while. I shouldn’t have locked you out, and… I
guess
I shouldn’t have been mad over James.”

“Oh?” I perk an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied. “I wonder if that timing matches up with meeting Dean Henderson, hmm?”

She laughs. “Oh, you know me too well, Celeste.” She looks past my shoulder and gives a dreamy sigh. “Isn’t he just
so
good looking?”

I simply look at her.

“Hmph,” she says. “Still pissed, are you?”

“Summer, you locked me out of our apartment!” I explode. “You changed the locks because of something you didn’t even give me a chance to explain! You think I’m going to forgive you just like that?”

“Well, um, I kind of forgave
you
just like that.”

My mouth drops open. “I didn’t do anything!”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. Let’s try getting some liquor in you. Maybe then you’ll be loose enough to just
listen
.”

6.

Half an hour later, over drinks at the bar, I’m no closer to forgiving Summer than I was before.

She’s stubborn and unyielding over
really
claiming fault, but she does say the word “sorry” half a dozen times.

She’s on her fourth drink. I’ve only had a sip of mine. Alcohol and chemo drugs do not mix.

But over time, I see an opportunity present itself.

I need to move out of James’s apartment. I need to do it
stat
.

What better place to go than back to my old home?

As she gets deeper and deeper in her drinks, her confessions become more sincere. She says that she had no right to get angry, not really, but that she
so
wanted to be angry with me that she went to extremes to prove it.

It’s all a bit unsettling.

Everything comes full circle when, at the very end, she asks me to move back in.

I play it cool, despite my budding excitement. “I don’t know, Summer. How can I be sure you won’t do something crazy out-of-proportion again?”

She begins reciting all the reasons, blabbering on and on about having learned her lesson and whatnot.

I listen to her pitch. As I do, a smile grows on my lips.

I suspect the true reason for her apology is that she can’t pay rent on her own.

No shit, I think. She doesn’t have a job, and the lease was for two.

“Fine,” I say. “Fine. But if I come back, it’s not going to be fifty-fifty for rent. I want it eighty-twenty.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Celeste, you know I can’t afford that.”

Caught
, I think.

“Seventy-thirty, then,” I say.

“Sixty-forty,” she counters. “Come on. We’re best friends. You know I’d pay for you in full if I could.”

“Sixty-five—thirty-five,” I say. “I’m not paying any more, Summer. You owe me for kicking me out the way you did. ”

She looks at her drink. She pokes at the ice cubes with one finger.

Then she gives a sulky nod. “Fine, yes. Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Shake to make it real.” I hold out my hand.

7.