Page 202 of Now and Forever

Chapter 69

M

y lips simply took his, and I felt him freeze. Nonetheless, I was too overwhelmed with passion, so I ignored his reaction and continued my own desires by deepening the kiss, forcing his lips to open. My tongue parted his lips, consuming him without reservations. It took him a second, maybe a few more, before he finally took hold of the situation and kissed me just as ardently, just as feverishly, devouring my lips as if they were a decadent piece of chocolate.

The sudden progress of how quickly things shifted between us left me reeling at how consumed he was.

I wasn’t sure why I had done it. The moment was a sudden rush of heightened awareness. His close proximity, his intoxicating male essence drugged me into an exquisite stupor. Then my lips became possessed and took over, expelling what little inhibitions I had left.

Being this close to him—having his lips mesh against mine in a heated, erotic kiss—was beyond anything I had ever experienced. Nothing came close. Nothing could compare. One kiss was all it took for me to know I was more than unhealthily attracted to Cruz. I was, in fact, epically crushing on him.

My corrupt thoughts came to a sudden pause when the man whose lips I had technically raped and ambushed decided to halt, and he looked me in the eye with such profound severity that I literally forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

Those eyes … Those beautiful, magnetic eyes made my heart skip not one, not two, but many beats. When it regained its momentum, my heart was beating erratically.

“We should head back,” he murmured in a croaky voice, which made me think of hot sex. And lots of it.

With my tinted cheeks, I didn’t recoil from his powerful gaze. “Yeah … um … we should.” I tried to sound normal, unsure of where his mood was. Was he upset about my impulsive actions? Was it too slutty for me to advance on a man who didn’t make the first move to kiss me? He wasn’t necessarily being cold, but there was something amiss. I could feel him thinking deeply, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Getting up from the cool, stone bench, I followed him out of the beautiful place, but before fully exiting, I twisted my body one more time to get another glimpse of it, knowing all too well I wasn’t ever going to forget this place or this particular memory.

There was something about him that drew me towards him in the most nonsensical way. It was indescribable, and even though I wasn’t sure where this was heading, I knew the chemistry between us existed. It was palpable. If he couldn’t feel it, then he must have some sort of chemical imbalance because, fuck, I could literally feel the electric current bouncing off us, ready to spark fire. Suffice to say, however, my self-preservation was in effect, helping to settle my relentless hormones.

Sending him a quick glance, I noted how tense he was. His posture and his hands in his pockets didn’t give me the kind of reassurance I needed. Regardless, instead of prying into his thoughts, I resorted to the waiting game, hoping the tension would disappear, and he would be back to his gorgeous smiles and unending teases.

Striding back out to the main garden, I emerged near the line of trees as the spell of that secret spot gradually disintegrated, and I was placed back in reality. Question after question hounded my thoughts, wondering what major consequences I had to deal with after that bold kiss.

We didn’t speak at all as we retraced our steps to the house. Then, the second we reached the French doors, he led us through before halting his steps to face me.

He had unreadable expression across his handsome face, giving nothing away. “I’ll bid my goodnight here, Serena,” he uttered in a tone teachers would use if they had caught someone cheating.

His stern attitude made me crumble inside from humiliation and rejection. My pride was beyond injured, but I still managed to give him a genuine smile through my pain.

“Goodnight, Cruz.”

As I slowly took my leave, I thankfully managed to remember which direction led towards my bedroom. Although I could feel his eyes on me, watching me closely as I walked away from him, he didn’t say a word to soothe or reassure me. He simply let me walk, thinking I had made a fool of myself, that maybe I was unworthy of him.

This negativity continued as I brushed my teeth and changed, but before I managed to fall asleep after a couple of hours of torturing myself, I made a vow that I wouldn’t let Cruz Elliot affect this once in a lifetime opportunity. No matter how much the man evoked strong reactions and emotions from me, I just had to stand my ground, regroup, and get over it.

* * *

The next day,Anne came in to greet me before announcing that breakfast was going to be served in half an hour. Sleepy and still partially hallucinating, thinking I was still back in my bed in Los Angeles, I stared back at her with my squinting eyes, disheveled hair, and a look that screamed what the fuck? After all, where I came from, no one cooked anyone breakfast. If you found yourself hungry, you made toast or popped a frozen waffle in the toaster, whatever was convenient. To wake up to such an untraditional thing, I was instantly reminded of where I was and what I had done last night.

The horror of my mistake last night made me contemplate getting out of bed and facing the man who had made me feel less confident of myself. It was daunting to think of conversing with him, let alone being in the same room and sharing the same table as we talked about menial things that I couldn’t care less about. However, this was part of being human and living in a civilized world—most especially on this part of the map—where class and decorum were high on everyone’s list.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t have class—I believed I did, though I hadn’t exercised much of it last night—or the fact that my display of decorum was nil. It was just that I felt as if I had gone in over my head, and I wasn’t sure how to act around these affluent people. Never again would I dare wear a denim skirt when I had to be surrounded by rich kids. I wouldn’t put myself through that kind of ordeal. It was just too much for anyone to handle.

I was better than this. I kept telling myself that no one should ever have the right to make me doubt myself. However, it was hard to convince myself when my ego and pride had taken a beating from Cruz’s standoffish attitude last night. The need to curl up and sleep through the day, using jetlag as my excuse, was truly tempting, but my parents had taught me better than that. At a young age, manners had been ingrained in my head. Therefore, instead of opting to save myself from more hurt and insanity, I reluctantly rolled off the bed, slowly dragging my feet to the bathroom to get ready to face the music.

Just a little bit over half an hour later, I left my bedroom to head downstairs. I was dressed in an all black outfit, leggings and cami that matched my comfortable flats. My hair was knotted into a messy bun that crowned my head. And as for war paint, I didn’t use much: a smear of concealer, a coat of mascara, and some blinding, bright red lipstick to mask my battered confidence.

Red on my lips meant business. It stated I was not to be fucked with, because I would chew anyone who crossed me. The fallacy had worked wonders for me over the years, and I had never needed this kind of armor more than today.

With my head held high, I strolled into the dining area and was astounded to find it empty. It took about a minute to recover from this nice surprise before realizing this could be a great excuse to simply retrace my steps and call it a day. Of course, before I could spin around and shimmy away, a sound from the front door made me freeze, and without a chance to breathe, in came the man of my hellish dreams, looking well rested and relaxed.

“Serena.” He nodded towards me while I stood immobilized as he approached me with cool indifference. “I hope you rested well.”

Okay … He was acting as if nothing had happened between us. I could do that, too; be unconcerned and all. How hard could it be?

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