The Private Serials Box Set(45)

I couldn't think of a response and was still trying to recover from him  voicing his possession of me, so I decided to stay quiet.

"You have to understand the position I was in, Lena. I wanted you. More  than I've ever wanted anything in my life, I wanted you. I wanted to  save you, to be with you, to help you. But I also wanted to give myself  to you. I wanted everything with you. But, it wasn't that simple. I  could have told Edgar to fuck off, could have just snatched you up,  shown you everything you've been missing in your sorry excuse for a  marriage with Derrek, and it was damn tempting to do it. But if I didn't  play my cards right, Piper would be right back where she started. I had  to protect her, but I couldn't just let you go.

"It would have been so easy to just take the job and seduce you, but I  knew I'd never be able to walk away. So I had to figure out a way to  keep you while still keeping Piper safe. It just turns out that Derrek  and Edgar were a little smarter than I gave them credit for."

"What do you mean?"

"Those pictures you saw? The ones of us together?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah?"

"Those were supposed to be taken at your house. That was the deal. I was  supposed to sleep with you in your bed. Derrek had cameras in there for  weeks just waiting. That's why I insisted we leave. I wasn't going to  give him the ammunition." He rubbed his hand over his bearded jaw again.  "So I made sure we never had sex in your house. Do you remember? You  remember how I made sure we left?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember how, right before I slipped into you, I made you tell me you wanted it?"

My heart simply stopped at his words. I'd thought about him and I  together that way a lot over the last couple of months, remembering the  way we were together, how possessive and domineering he was, but also  how tender and sweet he could be. But even with all the nights I laid  awake thinking about him, I hadn't recalled that moment until now.

"I couldn't tell you just then how important it was to me that our being  together was your decision, but it was. I needed that. Needed you to  know that, in the end, you wanted it just as bad as I did. You wanted  me."

"You said if I chose to be with you, it would be only you from then on. You said you'd protect me and keep me safe."

"That's all I've been focused on doing since you left."

I scoffed.

"You handed pictures of us, together, right to him. Pictures of you  buried inside of me. I was mid-orgasm in that picture. And you just gave  it to him." Tears threatened, my breath hitched, the heartbreak of his  betrayal bubbling over inside of me.

"I did nothing of the fucking sort," he snapped, leaning over the table  toward me, his hand slapping its surface loudly, jarring me.

I wiped away the tear that had escaped. "Your credibility is shot,  Preston. That photo came from your house. How else did he get it?"

"That night  –  the first night we were together  –  that's the reason Edgar  tailed me and cornered us in that alley. Once I took you from your  house, he knew I didn't do it his way; that I wasn't going to. So, he  sent someone to my house to plant that camera there. Edgar was stalling  me so Derrek could still get his proof. I was never going to give him  what he wanted. I would never do that to you. I never knew the photos or  videos existed. I've never seen any of them."

I was losing a battle I'd been fighting for weeks. I wanted to believe  him so badly. I wanted to believe that he'd never meant to harm me, or  cost me everything. I wanted to believe everything he was saying.

But he'd lied to me.

And I wasn't sure how big or small that was; how significant or  insignificant. Surely, if he was lying to me to help protect his sister,  I could forgive him that, right? But that would mean I'd have to  believe him  –  have to believe the whole story  –  from beginning to end.  I'd have to believe he felt our connection as deeply as I had. That he  cared about me. That he was hurting without me. That he'd come after me.

He must have sensed my wavering, must have picked up on the fact I was  getting lost in the possibility of believing him, because he moved  toward me.

As if in slow motion, his chair slid across the floor and his thigh was  pressed up against mine. The warmth of his hand wrapped around the back  of my neck, holding me firmly, pressing his fingers into me just enough  to make me gasp. My eyes slowly closed, as if using my vision would be  sensory overload coupled with the feeling of his touch on my skin. Then  his nose moved over my cheek, nuzzling me, stopping when his lips were  pressed against the shell of my ear.

"I can't be apart from you anymore, sweetheart," he said so quietly, it  was barely a whisper. "I love you, Lena. You have to believe me when I  say it was always you." His breath pushed up against the skin of my  cheek, sending shivers throughout my body. "Everything I did, I did for  you."

"I want to believe you," I said, bringing my hand up to cradle his face,  eyes still closed, not caring that anyone in the coffee shop could be  witness to our private moment. "But if I let you in again, if I choose  to believe you and I'm wrong, it'll break me. You'll break me."

"Please let me take you somewhere. I don't want to have this  conversation in a coffee shop." His thumb was brushing up and down the  side of my neck and all I could do was nod. He stood and held his hand  out for me. Placing my hand inside his warm, strong one was like curling  up with my favorite blanket. It was familiar and reassuring.

He led me outside to the motorcycle I'd seen him on days before.

"That was you," I murmured.

"Huh?" he asked, reaching into a compartment and pulling out another helmet then handing it to me.

"I saw you on this bike the other day. I saw your hair and your leather  jacket and knew it was you, but convinced myself I was just wishing you  here or something."

He gave me a sad smile and then pulled the helmet over his head.

"I didn't know you could drive a motorcycle," I said, pulling on the helmet.

"I looked into having my Lotus shipped over here, but it was too costly,  especially since I wasn't sure I'd even get you to agree to talk to  me." He swung his leg over the bike and I nearly went cross-eyed. He  looked sexy behind the wheel of his Lotus, but he was sinful on the back  of a bike. "Climb on." His words could have stopped my heart, could  have liquefied every part of my body, but instead, they sounded tense  and worrisome.

"You're sure you know how to drive one of these?"

"Lena, you can trust me."

Suddenly, I wasn't just going on a motorcycle ride, now I was making a  decision as to whether or not I trusted him. I wanted badly to climb  behind him and let him lead me wherever he was going, but hesitated for  just one moment. I ran all the facts I knew through my brain, tried to  weigh what I knew against what I felt, and the scale tipped just  slightly toward him. In truth, the last pebble to fall on his side was  Sam. I knew Sam wouldn't be here, encouraging our relationship, if he  wasn't trustworthy.

I followed his example, having never been on a bike before, and swung my  leg over the back. I found that as soon as I lifted my feet from the  ground, gravity slid my body down the seat until I was snuggly pressed  up against Preston's back. His hard legs and hips fit against the inside  of my thighs. I laid my hands tentatively on his waist, but he grabbed  my hands and wrapped them around him.

"Hold on tight."

My lungs snapped shut with his words, my mind instantly picturing  Preston behind me as I was on all fours, open and waiting for him, right  before that damned picture was taken of us. I squeezed my arms around  him, both trying to hold onto him safely, but also to push all the  humiliating thoughts from my mind of Derrek seeing those photos.

He smelled incredible. The scent that was simply Preston mixed with the  unmistakable smell of his leather jacket was enough to force my eyes  closed as I breathed him in.

The bike suddenly jolted forward, moving into traffic, and I yelped,  unprepared for the movement. His hand came off the handlebar and rested  against mine clasped to his chest. He ran his hand over mine a few  times, soft and gentle, before putting it back on the handlebar. I  relaxed as the ride went on, getting use to the unfamiliar feeling,  leaning into turns and being so vulnerable to every car on the road.         

     



 

It occurred to me about ten minutes into the ride that Preston was an  excellent motorcyclist, and he must ride often to be that proficient at  it. I began to relax and enjoy the scenery passing me by. I hadn't  thought to ask him where we were going, but I didn't worry about it. I  was willing to go wherever he wanted in that moment.

We left the city proper and started to ride away from the commotion. The  road we were on wound up the hills of a volcano in the middle of the  island.