Page 83 of From West, With Regret

I don’t speak a word before closing the distance between us. I capture her face in my hands and crash my mouth against hers. I breathe her in, pulling her until she stumbles forward, leaning into me.

“I missed you today,” she says against my mouth.

“I missed you, too,” I say back, forcing the words to come out without me falling apart.

It’s painfully true. She’s the balm to my wounded soul. She always has been. She doesn’t even know it yet.

Our teeth click against each other’s, and I capture her top lip between mine. I bite down, then slip my tongue into her mouth, finding hers. She moans, and all I can think about is burying myself in her so deep, I forget everything. I get lost in this world we’ve made. Not the one of our past. The one only I remember. But this one, where we want nothing more than each other.

I’m hungry for her love. I’ve missed it.

Breaking our kiss, I pull back, cupping her gorgeous face in my hands. “I need you.”

Her mouth is red, her pink lip gloss smeared across her mouth. Hot, trembling breaths pass through the small gap between her full lips, and the look in her eyes is all I need before I’m grabbing her hips roughly, spinning her around, then bending her over.

She catches herself on the edge of the metal shelf, sticking her beautiful round ass in my face. Fisting the edge of her leggings I tug them over her two round cheeks, then I remove her thong.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, unbuckling my belt. “This time, Iwon’t be gentle. I need you, and I need younow.” The metal clinks in the heated air as I’m slipping down my pants and my boxer briefs. My cock springs free, and I tease her crease, rubbing against the wetness already dripping down her legs.

She looks over her shoulder and presses her beautiful ass against me. “I’m yours.”

Grabbing onto her hips like my life depends on it, I rear back and drive my cock inside her, listening to the sweet moan that falls from her mouth.

It’s then that I realize I hadn’t truly taken a breath until now.

TWENTY-THREE

LONDON

West: Good morning. Don’t head to The Veiled Door for work. Meet me at my place instead. Be sure to bring your portfolio. With love, W.

I’m re-reading the text West sent me this morning as the elevator takes me to his floor, focusing on the four-letter word beside his initial.

He hasn’t outright told me he’s in love with me, but I know we’re already there. I’ve caught myself nearly saying it several times only to stop with fear. Not because I don’t think he’ll say it back, but because I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life. Which is saying a lot for someone with only half her memories.

Over these past several weeks, the memories of my past are still alive and breathing in my mind. I still remember the cold metal against my neck. The scent of blood in the air, mingling with cold dirt. West sitting at a kitchen table, pressing his finger to my cheek.

That last one still has me wondering whether it’s a memory or just a dream. I’ve had the same dream twice more since thefirst time, and it still feels just as real as it did then. Even more so with each one. It’s clearer now, and I know it’s West looking at me with love in his eyes. Just like he does now.

My heart vibrates with an echo, and I smile to myself. It wasn’t broken after all. It was just lost.

The doors open to the hallway of West’s apartment, and I step out, immediately searching for him. Seeing his apartment never gets old, even after two months of coming here nearly every day. I still step inside, in awe at the size and décor, the enormous ceilings, the brick-covered walls, as well as the shiny, stainless-steel appliances. He really leaned into the industrial look, but it suits him.

Unsuspecting and sophisticated.

“West?” I call out, setting my bag and portfolio on the counter. I shrug out of my black cardigan and set it beside them. I cross my arms over my chest and walk across West’s living room. Staring out of his black-framed windows, I watch the city below and the life breathing through it. With every person that passes by, I think about what lives they lead. Who they could be and the memories they hold. How far back to they go? Do they remember the bulk of their lives?

I’m envious of them.

I leave the intrusive thoughts behind, continuing my search for West.

“West?” I call out again. I slowly make my way to the living room again before wandering down another hallway—the one leading to a full bar West had custom built when he moved in. It’s where he spends most of his free time at home when he isn’t at his office or any of his locations. It’s the place where he experiments with new drinks and where he can get lost in his own thoughts, leaving the outside world behind. Much like me when I get lost in my sketches.

I emerge from the hallway and find Westbehind the bar. I break in to a full smile watching him stuff a handful of mint into the bottom of a tall glass.

Hearing me, he looks up.

“About time you showed up.” He smiles. “I was about to race over to Selene’s apartment myself and force you out of bed.”

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