Humongous glass and wrought-iron doors rose up in front of me, the kind you might find in a modern-day castle. As War and I walked up the winding driveway, my eyes traveled all over the house. Scratch that, this wasn’t a house. This was an estate. Beside me a fountain that rivaled those found in Rome bubbled. The gleaming white structure that stretched ahead was a miniature Caesar’s Palace. Oh, shit, there were even two white matching marble statues of naked men (fig leaves covered their most private parts) flanking the doors. It wasn’t what I’d pictured Warren buying. When we discussed living together after the European tour, we’d always talked about a little cottage, hopefully by the beach. What had possessed Warren to purchase this monstrosity?
Warren smiled, proud, boyish as we mounted the marble steps. “What do you think?” he asked.
I had nothing.
He keyed some numbers onto a state-of-the-art security pad and the doors swung open. Tentatively, I stepped over the threshold. Inside was even more garish than the outside. Gleaming marble floors. A wide staircase with a gold banister. A crystal chandelier with electric candles. My eyes hurt from all the white stone, from the gaudiness. Warren rolled back on his heels and I realized he was waiting for me to say something, anything. “It’s very palatial,” was all I could muster.
“Yeah, it came with all the furniture.”
Thank goodness he hadn’t bought everything to furnish the house.
“C’mon.” He jerked his head. “I’ll show you the rest.”
Goody. I could hardly wait. He led me up the marble staircase and then down a long hallway. “This is the east wing.” This place had wings? He stopped in front of a set of golden double doors and pushed one open. The room was twice the size of my apartment. Scratch that, it was four times the size of my apartment.
Warren raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for my reaction.
I stepped over the threshold, my sandaled feet sinking into plush carpet. A king-size bed in a simple wooden frame dominated the center of the room. Across, a matching low, wooden dresser took up one wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up another. The view beyond was of a turquoise pool that glimmered in the orange, setting sun. The room was simple. Restrained. So at odds with the rest of the house.
“It’s the only room I decorated myself. I know it’s not as nice as the rest of the house, but I had nightmares of suffocating in gold and marble.” Warren’s gruff, unsure voice was close behind me. His breath tickled my ear. Gooseflesh rose on my arms. I turned, frowning. Why had Warren bought this place when it was clear he hated it?
I opened my mouth. “War—”
He cut me off with his lips. The kiss was quick. Over too soon. “No more talking, Addy,” he said. His hands went to my hips, pulling me gently forward. I bit my cheek. His thumb went to my cheek, to the place I chewed on. “No more thinking either,” he said.
His head lowered, bringing his mouth closer to mine. He paused. Waited. For what? For me to breach the space between us. I leaned up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against him. That was all he needed. My permission. I wanted this too. I had left so abruptly. We’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye. Maybe that was what Warren needed, what we both needed. A sweet farewell. So I convinced myself this was the end. And since it was the end, I could give myself freely, without reservation. His tongue moved into my mouth, gently swiping. The sweetest kiss. I leaned into him, urging him on.
He swept me up into his arms, never disconnecting our mouths. I landed on the bed. Warren’s mouth moved to my neck, to between my collarbones, then down and down. He paused at the waistband of my sweats. I thought he would yank them off like he’d done back in the limo, but he merely placed a gentle kiss on my bare stomach. “Not yet,” he said, flicking his eyes up seeing the question on my face. “I told you I was going to take my time.” He smiled, wicked and taunting. He rose up, stripping off his T-shirt, his muscles flexing. God, he was sexy. The sexiest man I’d ever seen. My eyes went to the busty mermaid on his bicep. His dad had been a fisherman. My look drifted down to his forearm, where my name was tattooed in loopy cursive wrapped in vines. Below it, written in smaller script, were the words: in love, in life, in death.
Warren came back to me. He removed my shoes, placing a tender kiss on my ankle, in the arches of my feet. He stripped me slowly, methodically—T-shirt, panties, bra. With each layer, he kissed the spots he bared. “Missed you, baby. Missed you so much,” he ground out against my hip bone. He slipped his jeans and boxer briefs from his legs in one motion. He crawled on top of me. I felt the weight of him, heavy and hard against my stomach.
I closed my eyes as we kissed. Warren’s hand drifted down my side, then over, cupping my sex and playing with my clit. I nearly came off the bed. I was already so worked up. I placed my hand on his chest, over his heart, and could feel the beat, fast and loud. “I can’t wait anymore, baby.” He kissed me once. A condom appeared between his fingers. He tore into it with his teeth and rolled it on. “Are you ready for me?” he asked.
I could only moan. He slid home. I rocked against him, welcoming his length, the fullness. Shivers raced across my skin. “You’re so tight,” he ground out. “You haven’t had anyone since me. Have you, baby?” Arrogant Warren reared his ugly head. But I didn’t mind. I was gone, too lost in a tidal wave of emotion and pleasure.
“It’s always been you, War,” I said, speaking the truth. It would always be him. Someday, I might move on, but Warren would always have a piece of me. A big piece. His hand moved between our bodies, thumbing my clit as he thrust.
I came on a breath and a shudder.
Warren followed closely behind, collapsing on top of me when he was finished. Our bodies were a sweaty, tangled, slick mess. I caressed his back, his shoulders. I couldn’t stop touching him. I licked a drop of sweat from his neck. He hardened against me. Stamina had never been a problem for him.
“Again?” I asked, a teasing smile on my lips.
The sun had gone down, bathing the room in blue twilight. Warren rose on his forearms. “Once will never be enough, Addy.”
I woke throughout the night to Warren, to his mouth, kissing my back, my shoulders, my neck. He couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t get enough of him. Three years we’d stored this up. And Warren was right. No matter how many kisses, how many times my body arched and met his, it would never be enough. We made love twice more. The last time was the slowest and sweetest. Warren murmured words in my ear, declarations of love I wasn’t ready to receive or return. He was the sweetest temptation. Before he fell asleep, he whispered, “This is a new beginning for us. I’m going to be different, try harder. Just give me the time to prove it to you.”
Tears choked me. I couldn’t reply. I wished I could explain to him. I didn’t want him to be different. He didn’t need to try harder. I had loved him, loved him for free. But he’d taken it and squandered it, my precious gift.
Warren fell asleep thinking of new beginnings.
I drifted off promising myself this was the end.