Page 33 of Finally Forever
I don’t need this. An innocent who worships me. I can’t protect her. Why the hell did I ever think I could? This woman, whose name I don’t want to use because it makes her too real, deserves more.
I must have been insane when I chose to steal her from her life. She was brainwashed with orgasms and the best sex of her life. It has to be why she agreed to come with me. I can fuck. Learned from the best, thanks to my dad and the hookers he hired to teach me. Sick man.
Why on earth I allowed myself to fuck this pretty blonde so stupid she gave up her life for me doesn’t make sense. Not to the me I know. The me I was before her and am again. Shit.
I continue masturbating, picturing those green eyes watching me as I slide my thick cock into her mouth and fuck those plump lips. I come so hard and fast, I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming her pretty name.
Ecstasy turns into relief and exhaustion. I needed that. Rage mixed with desire is potent. A weakness. I used the tactic to fuck Marina near the end of our relationship, lying to myself that I could continue the charade of a happy couple and fulfill my end of the arrangement. Abetrothal. I hate the fucking word. My dad loves it.
Now, I’m in France, engaged to a woman—who I’m convinced is the worst person for me—fueled with paranoia, fearing I’ll be caught, and my father will win. He’ll kill me for this, after torturing me to the point of near death, then nursing me back to health only to do it again. The cycle would continue until I begged for death. He’s brutal in that way, which is why bringing this blonde into the mix makes no sense.
She fucking stands out with that hair, too. And those tits that she treats me to each morning. I can only imagine what I did to those when she rode me like she said she did that night. I devoured those pert nipples, I’m sure of it, and would have had them between my teeth moments ago had I not walked off and relieved myself.
I still can’t believe how she affects me. I know better. I have more control than anyone I know, but when she squeezed her thighs together under the table, the shift in her posture so obvious, her nipples as hard as diamonds, her breaths shallow as she fought to contain her arousal, I was done.
If she knew the power she had over me, she could keep me here as her willing slave. I’ve become pathetic, and that’s unacceptable.
I need a plan. People I can trust. And a way to drop this blonde back into her old life or into a new one. I’m not an asshole. I’ll compensate her for what she’s been through and done for me. It’s obvious she loves me. She gave me more than her body; she gave me her heart. I see it every time she looks at me.
When I woke from the coma, I felt an instant draw to her, so I fought my instincts and pinned her as the enemy. I didn’t want to know anything about her or our past. It would have been a weakness. I have enough sense and survival instincts to know that.
For the hundredth time, I wonder what I was thinking, getting so involved with this woman. Do I even love her? Am I capable of a love that can tempt someone so innocent? I could have faked it, used her for my own selfish needs. I’m a dick in that way. I’ve never put anyone’s needs before my own—my friends aside.
I need to talk to Nathan and Riley and find out the truth about my relationship with this blonde from them—not the flowery painted version I’m sure she’d give me. Once I work that out, I’ll move onto the second part of my plan, although I haven’t decided if they’ll be involved. Both Riley and Nathan are engaged. It wouldn’t be fair of me to drag them in, but I can get what I need from Nathan and his connections through his family’s business to follow through on my plan without his help.
I’ll need both Nathan and Riley to help me figure out what to do about Ainsley. Saying her name digs at me—an area in my chest that I don’t like. No attachments. That’s how this needs to go, which means Blondie needs to stay at arm’s length and in her own bed at night. Not mine.
14
Ainsley
I sit in a row of two chairs on the private jet while Sebastian remains hidden in the back bedroom. He said he’s tired. I don’t believe him. He’s avoiding me, the same way he’s avoided eye contact ever since our breakfast debacle.
The morning left me with a new ambush of emotions. Anger, embarrassment, arousal like I’ve never known, desperation, frustration, and hopeless love for a man who doesn’t want me. A man who left me in need and upset. My Sebastian never would have done that.
I want to hate him. I want to believe he’ll remember me, and this will one day be a distant nightmare. I want to beat down that door and demand he see me. I want to feel him inside me. I want to hear him sayI love youand know from the look in his eyes that he means it. I want to go back in fucking time and demand he go to the hospital when the migraines became bad. I hate myself most of all for not doing that. He protects me in every way possible, and I wasn’t able to do the same for him. Maybe he deserves better than me. Maybe this is a sign that I’m not good enough. That we’re too different.
“Argh,” I scream and stand.
Xavier pokes his head around the corner from the front where he talks with the flight attendant.
I wave him away and shake my head.
Once he sees where I’m headed, the bar in the back near the bedroom, he resumes his conversation with the flight attendant. Kelly? Kylie? I don’t remember her name. I do, however, remember the way she looked at Sebastian when he boarded the plane. I’ve seen it so many times I stopped looking. It didn’t matter. I knew he’d never want anyone the way he wanted me. He loved me. No other woman ever earned that from him. He thought he was incapable of giving love, and yet, he’ssogood at it. Once again, I’m bombarded with images of us kissing, hugging, talking, snuggling, panting, tearing each other’s clothes off, and making passionate love.
I kick the bottom cupboard and eye the bottles of liquor. Until my first ride on a private jet with Sebastian, I had no idea they had bars and full bottles of liquor. I grab the vodka and rummage for a shot glass. Found one. I twist the top and pour but miss the glass when we hit a pocket of turbulence. I try again and miss. Vodka runs from the counter to the floor.
“Shit.” I grab some small napkins and wipe up the mess. What does a girl need to do to get a drink around here?
Screw it. I press the bottle to my lips and chug. Alcohol burns my throat as it goes down, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I down another and stagger when turbulence rocks the plane. It steadies for a moment and shakes again, the motion sending me backwards into the wall.
Xavier walks toward me.
I raise my palm and shake my head again, willing him to let me fall apart on my own and drown my sorrows in vodka. I’m tired of being saved or protected.
He stops, but Kelly—or Kylie—gives me a dirty look and grabs the phone, her voice coming through the intercom. “Ma’am?”
Ma’am? I scowl. I’m younger than she is.
