CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WILLOW

I stand at the window in the darkness, watching the rain falling steadily outside. Little drops shimmering down from the sky, evidence of our passionate moment outside now drip down my bare shoulders. Cool drops that relieve the heat I feel burning up inside me. My fingertips trace my swollen lips, and I close my eyes. Surely I didn’t imagine it. Yet again, he pushed me away.

He kissed me so angrily and greedily in the courtyard. So very different from the stolen kisses we shared all those years ago in the trees. Each time we touch now, it’s like I could combust. The fire and need is so much more than it was back then. My mind and my body have desires that the girl I was never dreamed of. But he still treats me like a delicate flower, like we’re back in that garden, and he might crush me.

I was consumed. I thought he was too...that he was finally going to take me. Then he abruptly stopped his assault on my mouth and left me to walk back to my room alone. The warm rejection is flowing on my cheeks, mixed with the cool summer rain.

Is it silly to be upset? Maybe the kissing didn’t mean anything to him – the doubt seeps in. It’s quite apparent that Piers has no shortage of women falling all over him, including Scarlett. Am I trying too hard? Does he even want me anymore? It’s been so long, but that kiss...I felt that kiss in my soul. How could he not even feel a fraction of the fire that I did?

The air becomes charged, and I feel my skin start to tingle, opening my eyes to see his reflection in the window. His dark silhouette framed in the light of the hall, he stands still as a statue. I too am frozen in place...the hurt I feel about whatever the hell transpired downstairs is drowned out by my desire to be near him.

The pull I feel towards him is nothing short of magnetic, and that scares me. What scares me more is that he doesn’t seem to feel it.

I put aside that fear and take a chance, looking over my shoulder at him, and he grips the door frame with both hands. His gaze holds mine across the darkened room; I bite my lip, trying to contain myself.

“Fuck it,” I hear him breathe out in a harsh whisper. Dropping his arms, he charges into the room towards me, and I turn completely around, pressing my back into the cold glass window. The chill can’t compete with the fire I feel once he reaches me.

He steps between my legs and presses his body against mine. His hard length against my stomach; only rain soaked chiffon and tuxedo pants separate us now. He tangles his hand in my hair, which is a massive mess of wet curls. I stare at him expectantly as the other hand wraps around my throat, his thumb tracing a path from my chin to my sternum and back again. I melt in his capable hands. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. His eyes burn into mine before he lowers his mouth.

His tongue runs across my bottom lip, and I arch into him, begging for more with my stare. My body hums in anticipation, and he drops both hands as if waging some type of war.

“Piers!” I plead. He closes his eyes as if he’s in pain.

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me, Willow.” His voice is raw and gravelly.

“What happened outside,” I start.

“Was a mistake.” He finishes cruelly, and I feel the sting of fresh tears.

He searches my face and reaches to hold it in his hands. “Let me finish.”

I pull away. “I think you said enough.”

He turns me back around to face him, eyes burning into mine, eyes shining with desire.

“It was a mistake because you deserve better than to be taken roughly against a column in the garden...you deserve silk sheets, candles and roses, but I lost control. I always seem to lose control with you.” His voice is raspy with lust, and I’m relieved to know he still wants me, that he feels this too.

It’s my turn to be speechless as he whispers across my lips, “I promised myself, just one taste...that it would be it. But it wasn’t enough. It’s. Never. Enough.”

“You didn’t hurt me Piers, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I wanted it, and I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” I confess.

He sighs, resting his forehead against mine. “But you still don’t get it. I don’t want stolen kisses anymore. I don’t want to make love to you just to see if it’s still there. It’s there, Willow…I promise you that. It’s never left,” he continues, and with every word, I want him more, but I don’t dare interrupt him. I let him bare his soul.

Releasing me, he walks to the bed, running his hand on the soft white sheets. “I don’t want to lay with you in that bed, have you in my arms, knowing that at some point you will be an ocean away again. I don’t want a farewell fuck.” I flinch at his crude choice of words, and he makes his way back to me, taking my face in his hands once more.

“I want all the kisses to be mine and only mine. The only thing stolen will be your breath when I strip you bare and give you everything I am, every single time.” His nose nuzzles my neck and his tongue darts out to taste my skin. My knees grow weak, and his capable hands grip tightly on my hips, holding me in place.

“I want to own you.” Lick.

“All of you.” Kiss.

“I want to devour you.” Lick.

“Worship you.” Kiss.

He drags in a breath, his palms resting on my cheeks as his mouth whispers against mine. “I want the only name, falling from those heart-shaped ruby lips as you climax, to be mine.”

He grinds against me, and my hands tangle in his hair, my body desperate to get closer to him.

“If we do this, it changes things. It changes everything. There is no going back; you’ll be mine. Are you ready for that?” His question burns down deep into my soul because that’s all I’ve ever really wanted was to be his and for him to be mine.

I hesitate...because this isn’t just about us anymore or what we want. I’m overwhelmed by his confession, words I’ve waited so long to hear. But is it too late?

“I’ll take that as a no,” he concedes.

I whimper as Piers releases my face and drags his hands possessively down my body as if memorizing every curve.

“But being the selfish bastard that I am, I’m going to have you anyway.” He spins me around and moves my hair, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck. “But I can’t be the man you expect me to be. We both need a release, but I can’t lay down in that bed and get lost in you. So we’ll do this my way.” A shiver rolls through my body.

“Put your hands on the window,” he orders, heat floods my core.

So now we’re back to the dark Piers. I do as he instructs.

My zipper slowly starts the journey down my back, and I feel him tug the wet chiffon loose before it crumbles at my feet. “Don’t want you catching a chill.” His words tickle my spine as he lowers himself behind me to help me step out of the dress.

I’ve never felt as exposed as I do standing before him now in nothing but silver jeweled heels and black lace lingerie. His mask slipped back into place, and even now as he’s retreating into himself, farther from the boy I loved, I’ve never wanted him more.

He runs his hands down my back, and I arch into his touch, nearly losing balance as my fingers struggle to stay in place on the foggy window.

He grabs my hips with both hands and pulls me back into him. “Tell me what you want,” he rasps.

“You,” I manage between heavy breaths.

“Or maybe since I had a taste downstairs, maybe I’ll give you a little taste and leave you wanting more the way you left me.” I hang my head, and he leans over and pulls me back up, kissing from one shoulder to the other.

“Or maybe not,” he teases. Reaching around, he unhooks my bra and caresses my breasts that are aching for his touch as my body grinds shamelessly against him, begging for relief.

Only tuxedo pants and lace panties separate us. Feeling him hard as granite makes me want him more. His arousal is evidence of his desire for me, and it empowers me to know I can push him past the breaking point.

Tonight, I feel bold, like a desired woman, standing before a man in nothing more than panties and heels. Unsure where my new found inner vixen is coming from, I’m assuming it’s the effect of him on my body. His eyes. His hands. His mouth. A heady mix of tender and greedy.

I turn around, and he stops, spinning me back against the window. He reaches down and tears my panties aside to find me already dripping for him.

After testing me, slowly dragging his finger back and forth he adds another, stretching me.

“Piers, please,” I beg, pushing back on his hand before he removes it. Before I can beg again, he lines up at my entrance and pushes in on a moan. The only sounds are harsh breaths and the slapping of skin.

I look up to find our reflection in the fogged window, and I see him behind me, carnal and raw. This isn’t exactly how I imagined our reunion would be. He looks up in the window and meets my gaze, and it’s as if something in him shifts, and he senses it too.

“Not like this.” He slowly withdraws, and I whimper, nearly losing my balance, catching myself on the cold glass before righting myself. My arms slapping across my chest to cover up, the vixen no more.

He reaches to steady me, and I shy away from his touch. “Oh, Willow, what have I done?”

Turning back towards the window, he runs his hands through his hair. “Please just talk to me.”

“You can go now.” I move to walk past him.

“I hurt you? Didn’t I? I knew I would be too rough. I knew I needed you too bad; I wouldn’t be able to control it.” His words stop me in my tracks. He doesn’t regret it?

“You didn’t hurt my body, no. Your rejection is what hurts.” I try to explain as he takes me in his arms, carrying me to the bed, and gently lays me down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. What is usually an endearing show of affection feels like a delicate brush off.

Shame heats my face thinking about how I threw myself at him, and his reaction was regret. I don’t have experience with things like this. I just wanted to please him, wanted to be near him. I’m drawn to him like a moth to the flame; the risk of getting burned is worth it. I can’t help it.

He pulls the covers over me, and I hear him say to himself, one more time, “What have I done?” before he all but runs from the room.

He’s my North Star. I always gravitate towards him, even when I don’t want to. I roll onto my side, pulling my legs up, and curl into a ball. I want to cry, I need to cry. I will the tears to come, to drain my pain out, drop by salty drop. They don’t come. But sleep does.

I dream about being lost at sea. One minute I’m in a large ship, complete with white sails gliding through tranquil waters, the sun shining. And the next, I’m in a small life boat, being tossed around by dark, angry waves. They keep crashing up over me until finally I’m falling, sinking beneath the depths. When I reach the bottom, I blink and see light slicing through the water. Something next to me catches my eyes and I realize it’s a compass. My hands struggle to grasp it amidst the sand and rock. My lungs burn as I grip it, unsure of what to do next.

I close my eyes, waiting for the darkness to swallow me whole. But it never comes. Instead I feel myself being pulled through the water, rescued. “Willow.”

Opening my eyes, I see lights. Warm, glowing lights, like the sun. Focusing my eyes, I find deep green staring back at me. Wiggling my fingers, I search for the compass but find nothing in my hands except a twisted cotton sheet. Sitting up, I see I’m not in a boat, I’m in my bed, at Everlend and Piers is here too. “Piers?”

It’s not the warmth of sunlight on my face but the light of candles littered all around the room, glowing, casting their warm ambient light.