TESS

“No one could’ve predicted what happened that night,” he says again.

“Are you telling me that? And do you expect me to believe you?”

His eyes glimmer in the dimness.

I push off the trunk of the tree and collect my purse before I close the gap between us and bring my hand to the lapel of his jacket.

I start talking in a quiet voice.

“Everything that happened since I’ve met you ties into something else. Everything. The way we met, the ending of my marriage, the fact that I live across from your house. And last but not least, the fact that I gave that piece of information to Stephan. I have a hard time to believe that it was a mere accident and you had no idea that something bad was bound to happen.”

“It’s the truth,” he says with a silent voice as well.

My gaze tips down to his lips as I gently brush the fabric of his jacket.

“I don’t know if I meant something to you... If anything,” I mutter, lifting my gaze. “Even if I did, it’s all gone now. Whatever we felt for each other has been poisoned and now reeks of death. I can’t trust you, and you can’t trust me either, and even if you know my life, you can no longer tell what lies in my heart or goes through my mind. You know nothing about me now, and in a sense, we are finally even. Now, you know how it feels to be me. To love someone you know nothing about. To fall for someone who can hurt you so much and you can't do a damn thing about it.”

With that, I step away from him when I hear his voice again.

“It wasn’t me in that clip.”

I turn to stone, my feet pinned to the ground.

Slowly, I pivot to him.

“What...?”

His eyes dive into mine.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you?” I ask.

My voice is shaky. Broken.

“You attached a couple of clips by mistake.”

My heart drops.

“A couple??”

He tips his chin down while I walk back to him.

“What clips?” I ask no longer sure of anything.

“It was the recording of your husband and her. And then...”

I have a hard time standing.

I look at him, breathless, his gaze floating over my face.

“Yes...?” I murmur.

“And then you added the clip of her submitting to a man.”

“You and her,” I speak in a trance.

“The man in that clip wasn’t me.”

My jaw hits the ground.

I open and close my mouth a few times.

“What are you talking about? You sent me several bits with you and her to make me jealous.”

He shakes his head.

“I’ve never sent you clips with her and me. There are no clips of her and me. There never were.”

I study his face bewildered.

“Who was the man in those clips then ?”

He reads my expression for a moment.

“It was him... Stephan.”

My hand goes to my mouth again.

“Oh, my God... I can’t believe this.”

A storm of emotions breaks through me. It’s bad, so bad. But even worse now that I understand the irony. That I feel the iron fist of fate.

My heart breaks.

But how is that even possible?

How could he possibly have those clips? He sent them months back, way before she hooked up with Allan.

“She’s been with him for how long?” I ask, grappling to make sense.

“They started to see each other before she met your husband.”

I feel as if I’m about to faint, so I prop myself against the tree.

My gaze trails down, my eyes heavy with tears. I can see now how this whole story unfolded, and how it swept everything in its path.

Hunched, I start to sob.

He comes closer to me. Through a curtain of tears, I can see his sleek, expensive shoes.

“Why didn’t you stop them, Sebastien?” I ask, my voice tattered. “None of this would’ve happened.”

The evening gets back to me with the sound of crickets and the soft rapping of the rain, but not with his voice.

Silent, he watches me cry.

My purse slides from my hand as I spring up and sink my fists into his chest.

“Why didn’t you stop them??” I snarl as I charge at him again, my voice spearing through the fabric of the night, the echo floating over the cemetery.

He comes back to me, with the weight of his body and the power of his muscles, crushing me against the tree.

I squirm and scream hysterical against his touch as he secures me with his arm, and silence me with his hand.

“Because it wasn’t that simple,” he growls against my temple while I barely breathe against his palm. “Stopping them would have put everything at risk. I needed her to do what she did so that I could free myself from her. Stop feeling sorry for her or everybody else. No one was innocent in this story. No one. They were all adults making adult decisions. And they were all responsible for what happened to them as well.”

“Says every criminal,” I mumble beneath his touch.

His hand cuffs my neck while his body presses into mine. I grab his arms, feeling as if I’m sinking into the ground.

“I’m not a criminal,” he says against my lips, his hand no longer between us, only the hot breath that we share.

“I’m not,” he says with a softer voice, his fingers splaying over my face, getting drenched in my tears. His thumb sweeping my lips, sending electric waves through my bones.

The cushion of his lips gently touches mine while my nails sink into the fabric of his suit jacket. Torn, I’m struggling with a mountain of conflicting feelings, caught between the love and hate I feel for him.

Given the chance, I would kill him with my bare hands. And just as fast, I would love him with the same hands.

His lips press against mine, my warm tears getting crushed between us. I close my eyes and allow myself to feel him. His touch. His fingers fanned over my face. His thumb brushing my jawline. His arm snaking around my waist. His chest pressed against me.

He buries me in his embrace, the slight tension in his arms making my insides melt.

I’m right there, walking the path of surrender.

One part of me wants to pull away from him while the other is seconds away from making a compromise.

Ready to settle for this.

Content to take whatever he’s willing to give me.

The memory of an old conversation comes back to me that very second, the sound of my voice echoing in my ears. The very same words were part of a dialogue with him.

And then I hear his response.

‘Never forget that.’

He knew.

He knew back then. That’s why none of this is possible.

If before he walked me through a slice of heaven, now he’d take me straight to hell.

A hell made of secrets, lies, and distrust. A hell made of guilt and flashbacks, but also made of pleasure, so twisted and so addictive, precisely because it’s tainted.

And yet, I taste this moment.

It may as well be the very last moment with him. And that’s why I don’t want to say no to him.

I let my hands slide up his chest, looking for the hardness of his muscles, and I breath hot against his lips, tempting him to kiss me.

His body tenses as famished as mine, his hand cupping the back of my neck, pulling my hair down, tipping my face up.

On cue, I arch against his body, for the second time letting myself feel him, my eyes no longer closed but locked with his, my blood talking to his, my flesh wanting him badly.

Heat comes from his groin, his flesh hardening against my belly as his free hand goes up beneath my blouse and flicks my bra open at my back. He tugs the straps down, letting it bunch up at my waist.

The wet silk of my blouse molds straight to my chest, making my skin tingle.

He brings his hand to my front and crushes my left breast with his palm, still holding the back of my neck.

There are words that could stop him, but I don’t want to say them now. I want to get a taste of hell before I pull away from him.

Smoothly, he trails my chest with his hand, his eyes seizing mine, a glint threading through his gaze.

My lips part with a soft sound.

He pulls my hair back even more, exposing my neck, my lips… My chest. Bringing me where he wants me to be ––my hands clawing at him, my body clinging to his. My spine arched so that he feels me against his frame.

His fingers are warm as they slink inside my blouse and touch my skin––following the swell of my breasts and rubbing my perked up nipples. Goosebumps raise across my skin beneath his touch.

A wave of heat rises, soaking every fiber of my body.

More fire grows in me as he smoothly unbuttons my top.

He merely brushes my lips with his before he follows a trail down, leaving soft kisses in his wake... On my neck, my collarbone, my right breast and lower... So much lower. His hands peel the blouse off my shoulders and my arms and then toss the bra to the ground.

My hands go to his head, my fingers raking through his hair as he works my pants open and slides them off me as well.

Slowly he makes the trip back, his hands sliding up onto my thighs, his lips drawing another trail of kisses.

On my inner thighs and then the patch of thin fabric covering my sex. His mouth is hot, so hot, his lips rolling smoothly onto my throbbing clit.

Shudder after shudder goes through me, my hair standing on end as goosebumps dot my arms. My nipples turn to pebbles.

He breathes hot air on me, making me so ready for him. His fingers pull my panties down. Cold air brushes me first and then his thumb sweeping my slit before he parts my folds and runs his tongue over my flesh.

I push back a scream.

He does it again, this time crushing my clit beneath his lips as he gives me a hot kiss, sucking on my flesh and grazing it with his teeth.

I part my legs and want him up.

He straightens, his weight crashing onto me. His moves no longer smooth or tender. With one hand he opens his fly, with the other grabbing my neck. His fingers sink into my skin, his mouth locking mine into a fierce kiss.

He lifts me just as I wind my arms around his neck, and slowly slides me down onto him. I bite back another scream as a river of emotions and sensations flows through me. Pleasure and pain. Anger, and frustration, and so much longing for him. Fueling the fire that’s now burning through my veins and kiss.

“Sebastien...” I call his name as I get another gulp of air.

He props my back against the tree while I wrap my legs around his waist before he digs his fingers into my thighs and enters me with force.

I hold onto him––my eyes unfocused like his. My lips parted like his. My breaths ragged like his.

He is the most beautiful hell I’ve ever seen.

He does his magic, in a split second my guilt getting crushed beneath the high I always feel when I’m with him.

As only the flesh talks, my mind chatter stops, and I become oblivious to my surroundings and the reality.

There are no mixed feelings, not even a shred of hate for him. I can’t feel anything other than pleasure. Not even the bark scraping my skin and leaving marks and bruises on my back.

He makes everything feel perfect.

Perfect as if this is the first time he had me. Perfect as if he hasn’t put me through hell. Hasn’t conquered me and made me submit to him.

His body crashes into mine many more times before we merge our breaths into a kiss and I begin to shudder against him.

Everything makes sense. Because at this very moment I’m no longer mine. And he is no longer the cold man I thought he was. That’s why I easily can give myself to him.

Low grunts shake his chest as he plunges into me, taking me up high with him. Locked, we shudder, burning the past, and sealing our bond again, hoping for a better present.

Not thinking about the future.

Minutes pass by before his arms de-tense around me, and he slowly sets me down, pulling himself out of me.

My skin gets instantly cold as I pick my pants off the ground and my bra and start putting them on. He closes his fly and fixes his belt before he runs his both hands through his hair, combing it all back.

I button up my blouse and pick up my purse.

“I need some time,” I say, my voice cold as the evening.

His expression changes instantly, yet he manages to stifle his surprise.

“Okay...” he says.

Nothing in his voice says that it’s okay.

He parts his lips to say something else, and I flick my finger up, stopping him from speaking.

“I don’t want you anywhere near me, Sebastien.”

He purses his lips in disapproval and tips his chin up, watching me intently, yet not saying a word.

“I mean it,” I say as I set myself in motion and stroll past him.

Without another glance in his direction, I walk out of the cemetery, leaving behind a world that’s dead to me.