him just as much.” She stops, and I think the story is over. I’m about to reply to this fictional fable so familiar to our own, but we know it’s as real as the love we share.
She’s not done, though, and continues her story. “And imagine this broken young girl is on her way home to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. An older woman sitting next to her on the bus could sense her pain. She’s had a life full of memories to impart on the young woman. She shares slivers of her own life, the life where she hadn’t picked love. It was from her very poignant words that this young woman could realize how much she truly fucked up. The older woman gave her the wisdom that made her realize she needed to beg for this man’s forgiveness. As a matter of fact, she said, ‘I hope you can make a decision you can live with.’”
“What did you say?” I ask as the words I’ve heard so many times permeate my own mind.
“She told me, ‘I hope you can make a decision you can live with.’”
“What?” My mouth dries, and beads of sweat form at the nape of my neck because I’ve heard this little bit of wisdom from the only other woman I’ve loved.
“I met a woman who introduced herself to me as Jo, but I think you know her simply as your grams.”
My hands fall to my sides, and when she reaches to hold one, I don’t yank it away. “It was your grandmother who gave me the courage to pull my head out of my ass. She shared a sliver of her life, giving me the courage to hold onto what I want, and that is you, Chadwick Westbrook.”
My grandmother was never secret in her favoritism of me. I sometimes wondered if I was the only one in our very dysfunctional family she ever really liked. And it may be because, unlike everyone else, I’d always been honest with the type of person I am. I didn’t hide my depravity, and she didn’t look down on me because my needs were a little different than the general population. Pulling Eve up by her dainty little hand, I grab her luggage, and she follows me into my house. The beginning of us. My grandma unknowingly gave me her last gift in the earthly world, and it is Eve. My temptation.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eve
He’d told me once that his flat in London had been his grandmother’s. It’s fitting, with symbolism I can’t ignore, that we are here as he takes my hand and leads me into his home.
“I’m so sorry,” I declare, and he pushes me up against the wall nearest to the door. “I can’t lose you.” My words are breathy.
He cups my face with both of his hands. “Are you mine? Are you here to tell me you’ll never leave me again?” I’ve never heard the quiver in his timbre before. “Because I can’t lose you. You’re my lifeline, the beginning and the end of me. With you is the most hope I’ve ever felt in my life.”
His declaration isn’t of the Chadwick Westbrook I left in New York. Like me, he’s had a vision of his life without the two of us together.
“I can’t live without you either,” I begin. “You’re the only person to show me I’m good enough to be loved. With you, I sense it, like my own pulse.”
Lifting me up to wrap my legs around his waist, he carries me up the steps, peppering kisses down my neck.
Kicking a door open at the top of the stairs, he gently deposits me on the bed. “I know we need to talk, but if you think I can resist worshipping your body, then you are…”
“Worship me. Take me any way you want.” His left eyebrow rises higher than the other.
“Kitten, be careful what control you offer.”
He’s removing his belt, but I stay still, waiting for his instructions.
“Why do I need to be careful? I trust you with every fiber of my being.” This stops him, his gaze connecting with my own, and in it, our intimacy grows.
“Fuck, Kitten, you’ve just given me the keys to a brand-new Bugatti.”
I assume this is an expensive car since I’ve never heard of it, but I go with the analogy. “Drive me any way you want, Sir.”
With his title, he strips, pulling my jeans from me, then grabbing for his tie. “Hands on the headboard.”