Unforgettable (Page 38)

So what the hell do I do now?

The last time I let myself feel anything for a woman, it was back before all this began. My college girlfriend, I thought I was in love with her, that we were building a future together, but when tragedy struck and I suddenly found myself responsible for three younger siblings, she bailed. Cut loose and left me without a second glance. It hurt like hell, on top of everything else that was happening. I thought she was the one person I could depend on to see me through that terrible time, and instead, she only twisted the knife of grief even deeper.

I learned back then, I can’t depend on anyone but myself.

All those people talking about compromise, how relationships demand give and take, they have it wrong. Because even if you compromise your ambitions, bend over backwards to make the other person happy, that still won’t stop you breaking apart in the end. Compromise won’t keep a person who wants to walk away. They’ll leave, regardless, and then you’re left with nothing but regrets about the choices you could have made, the opportunities you turned down.

Better to always be rational, logical. To make decisions based on the business sense, instead of getting corrupted by fleeting emotions or even more tenuous desire.

But where does that leave me now: watching Noelle as she sleeps, feeling this fierce possession as if nothing could ever take her away from me? I’ve tried so hard to resist her, but even I can see that the data doesn’t lie. All the evidence says I can’t control myself when she’s around.

She’s my undoing. My one vice.

The ultimate weakness.

The only thing I can do is pray to God she doesn’t destroy me—and everything I’ve worked so hard to build.

Noelle mutters something in her sleep, then rolls over, burying her head against my chest.

I hug her tighter, stroking her hair, listening to the ocean waves roll rhythmically to the shore as a new storm of conflict rages in my mind.

Maybe nothing else has to change.

The idea is just as tempting as the woman curled in my arms. If I can keep this passion contained, and make the rules clear, then perhaps I can make it through with my dignity and career intact. Noelle knows the pressures of my job, she understands the responsibilities I’m dealing with. Our relationship doesn’t have to impact any of that at all. I can keep my personal life out of my business world, no problem. Work in New York; weekends or vacations here with her in Beachwood Bay. I can be disciplined about it, and make sure that nothing slips.

Contained. Controlled.

Safe.

I drop a kiss on her bare shoulder, and finally relax. As sleep takes me over, I hold her close, and tell myself again: nothing has to change.

16.

Noelle.

I wake feeling like it’s the first day of summer: that sleepy, sun-warmed haze you have knowing there’s nothing but beach days and BBQs ahead. Then I roll over and find myself snuggling against something solid and warm.

I jolt awake as memories come flooding back to me. The taste of his skin, the deliberate caress of those masterful hands. The feel of him, so perfect. The wild rush of it all, electric in the night, pushing everything aside to feast on each other with total abandon.

Pushing everything aside…

Breakfast!

It’s already after nine. I can’t believe I slept so long! I quickly slip out of bed and grab some clean underwear and Ash’s shirt from the floor. I leave him sleeping and let myself out, hurrying barefoot across the dew-damp grass to the main house. I let myself in the back door, and barrel down the hall—

“Good morning, dear.”

I stop dead in the dining room doorway. The room is full: the Petersons are sitting by the window, and the Kellers are trying to keep their boys from smearing sunscreen over everything.

“Did you have a nice night?” Harold asks, with a twinkle in his eye. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror over the mantle: the rumpled shirt barely covering my ass, and my tangled bed-head hair. My cheeks burn hot. Oh my God!

“Umm, sorry I wasn’t up earlier,” I mumble. “I’ll get breakfast out right away!”

“No need, dear,” Nancy says, smiling. “We found plenty of scones and breads in the kitchen. And Harold is quite a whizz with the eggs, isn’t that right?” she asks the Keller boys.

They answer in a chorus of approval, but I feel terrible for sleeping in.

“You go get yourself together,” Nancy winks. “And take your time. We’ll be just fine right here.”

I slink away, feeling like I just got busted by my parents with a boy in my room.

“What’s wrong?” Ash is awake when I step back into the studio; checking his phone in bed.

“They all saw me!” I cry, throwing myself face-down beside him. “They all know…you know. That I had someone over!”

He chuckles, reaching to stroke my hair. “Is that so bad?”

“Yes!” I sit up again, still totally embarrassed. “I’m trying to be professional, and my guests see me like this? What must they think of me now?”

“That you have great legs?” Ash smirks.

I catch my breath. He looks so damn sexy right now, his naked torso draped in the bedding, morning-after stubble on his jaw.

Maybe the humiliation is worth it.

“Hey,” I murmur, remembering just how we wound up like this. Ash. In my bed. Naked.

“Hey,” Ash echoes. He leans in and kisses me, a slow, deep, morning-after kind of kiss. And just like that, my embarrassment melts away, replaced with desire and joy and excitement, mingling hot in my veins.