I got on my knees in front of him, my body not my own. “Give me your hand,” I whispered.
He stopped immediately, abandoning the attention to his erection to place his hand in mine. Tears threatened as I placed them together palm to palm. I gazed at him, my eyes begging him to see me, to see how much I loved him, how I knew he was my one and only. Holding his stare, I removed my hand and licked his, running my tongue over every finger, every line, every crease on his open palm. Then I sucked each digit in my mouth, letting my teeth nibble on the roots of them. My tongue worshipped him.
“Nora, baby, yes,” he growled, his other hand stroking my hair back.
I gave them one last suck and kissed his palm reverently. “Let me see you come, Leo.”
He grasped his length and went back to work, the wetness making his strokes faster and hotter than ever. Uninhibited like this, he looked delicious, the need to come evident on his face, his eyes wild with desire. He moaned, his hips pumping back and forth with his hands.
He stiffened. “Nora!” he yelled out as he came, throwing his head back, his blond hair falling into his eyes, his muscled body straining forward and undulating in a beautiful symphony of ecstasy.
I wanted to weep.
I wanted him to love me.
Long moments passed and he recovered slowly, opening his eyes and blinking up at me. “What was that?” he asked weakly.
I picked up my purse and stood up on wobbly legs. “That was a lesson in clarity, Leo,” I said in a small voice. “I have a date tonight with a guy I’ve fucked before, a guy I once had real feelings for. Think about what just happened in here between us and how non-epic it was. Think about me doing that with someone else. Think how good we could have been.”
I got halfway to the door and without turning around said, “It’s not Finn I’m seeing tonight. Finn’s my half-brother, and he . . . raped me when I was fourteen,” I said, choking on the words.
Me and my boots staggered out the door.
“I’ve got nothing.”
–Leo Tate
LYING DECIMATED ON the couch, I watched her walk out the door, shutting it carefully behind her. Once my brain starting working again, and I pieced together the puzzle Nora had revealed, fury exploded like a bomb in my head and obscenities blasted from my mouth. I leaped off the couch, kicked over the chairs and lifted up the table where’d I’d been working and threw it across the room. It slammed into the concrete wall with a harsh clatter and fell to the floor, one of the legs dangling crazily. Madness swept through me, and I lost control. Grunting, I wrenched the leg off and beat it against the table, over and over and over until my hellish rage slowly morphed into horrified grief for her. I stopped and stared sightlessly down at the mangled wood. My Nora. She was so brave, so strong and had lived in hell.
I’d known she’d had secrets, but I’d never imagined this. I thought about when we’d first met, and how I’d misjudged her. How I’d thought she was a spoiled rich girl. I couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I hung my head.
The sun had set, and the room had grown dark by the time Sebastian came in from football and found me. I don’t know how much time had passed. All of my thoughts centered on Nora; the rest of the world had become nonexistent. I felt numb everywhere except my chest. It hurt so fucking bad, and I knew it was aching for her.
Sebastian flipped the light on and looked around with wide eyes. “What the hell happened in here?” he said, whistling at the scattered chairs and wrecked table.
I sat there crouched on the floor, my head leaning back against the wall. “Did you know?” I asked him quietly.
He stiffened for a moment and then eased down beside me on the floor, a somber look on his face.
“Only because I eavesdropped on her and her dad,” he said. “I don’t think she’d willingly tell anyone.”
I took a shuddering breath. “Tell me everything.”
He did, explaining how he’d been in the shop when her father had come in and how he’d been worried about her so he’d listened to their conversation. When he told me the details, I gripped the table leg that was still in my hand and prayed for control.
When he’d finished, I didn’t say anything, because I had no words.
I had no Nora.
“Truth is beautiful.”
–Nora Blakely
LATELY, BECAUSE OF Tiffani’s threats, I’d begun to ask myself what would be the absolute most terrible thing that could happen if I told Leo my secret. The answer? He might be sickened by my imperfection and never look me in the eye again. But, if he did, then he wasn’t the person my heart thought he was. He was much, much less. Yet, because he was my soulmate, I finally believed he’d never blame me or hate me for my shame. So, yeah, telling him today had been a relief. Truth can be awful and even excruciating, but once it’s released, it’s like a bird that’s been caged too long who finally flies to freedom. I felt a little like that. Free.
Letting it all go, I focused on getting ready for my date.
I’d gone to my house earlier, and Dad had helped me load my car with my sewing machine but not many clothes would fit. So I’d left the designer dresses and shoes in favor of jeans and shirts I’d need for school. I didn’t have much money for a date outfit, so Mila came by and dropped off a pink bridesmaid’s dress she said I could have. She knew I needed the distraction of sewing.
I got to work, chopping off the length and sleeves and turning the sweetheart bodice into a camisole style with spaghetti straps. With some of the fabric I’d cut off and some lace, I made a fun belt to tie around my waist and a headband for my straightened hair. I slipped the dress on and deliberated on my shoes, my eyes caressing the new boots but deciding on some brown wedges I’d gotten on a recent trip to the mall. They weren’t Jimmy Choos, but I’d paid for them with my own money.