The Private Serials Box Set(46)

On one straightaway, I watched as Preston took his hand from the bike  and placed it high up on the outside of my thigh, giving it a firm  squeeze. The touch was simple but meant so much to me. It was thankful,  as if he were glad I was with him in that moment. It was regretful, as  if he were sad this was the first time I'd been on the back of his bike.  But it also felt possessive, as if he were just reaffirming that I was,  indeed, his. All I could do in response was snuggle in closer to his  back and let my hands roam a little freer across his chest, pull myself  into him further.

After about an hour, he pulled off the main road and onto a gravelly  path that led to what seemed like an unofficial lookout. Obviously, many  people came here to admire the view as indicated by the pieces of  litter along the edges of the area.

He flipped out the kickstand with his foot and I unwound my leg from the  bike, eager to stand and take in the view. I pulled the helmet off and a  smile spread across my face. The view was absolutely breathtaking. Blue  ocean met blue sky, wispy clouds far off in the horizon, and white  waves crashing onto the shores below.

I turned, a smile still stretching my cheeks, like I hadn't smiled in  weeks, to find Preston leaning against the seat of his bike, ankles and  arms crossed.

"Don't you want to come see the view?"

"I like the view from here just fine." He smiled as he spoke, but it  wasn't the brilliant smile I wanted to see. "Come here," he finally  said, the darkness back in his voice. I walked to him and stopped a few  feet away. "I did a lot of talking back there. Is there anything you  want to say to me?"

His question caught me off guard, but I thought about it for a second.  Then I shrugged. "Why weren't you just honest with me from the  beginning?"

He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his bearded face. "Looking back,  that might have been the better choice. But just because I lost my mind  when I saw you that first day, didn't guarantee you felt the same way  about me. I guess I figured if I could get you out of your marriage  unscathed, I'd done my job." He paused and looked me in the eyes. "I  wasn't planning on falling in love with you, Lena."

"That's the second time you've said that today," I murmured.

"What?" He looked puzzled.

"That you love me."

"I've said it to you in my mind a million times." He stood, pushing off  his bike, moving closer to me. "I've said it silently to you while  you've slept next to me." He took another step toward me, leaving just  half a foot between us. "I've said it out loud, praying you could hear  me an ocean away."

"I feel like I'm on a roller coaster," I whispered, looking down at my  hands, wringing them in the space between us. "For weeks now I've cursed  you, hated you for how you betrayed me. Then, you just show up, and you  seem to have an explanation for everything. And I want to believe you,  Preston, I do." I took in a breath, bracing myself. "I want to believe  you and go back to the blissful place where you and I were exploring  what it meant to be ‘us,' and let you in all over again, but I'm  scared."

"I know," he said as his hands reached gently for my face. My first  instinct was to pull away, to keep a safe distance from him, but I  couldn't move. He brought his hands up to my jaw, fingers curled, the  back running along my jawline and down my throat, leaving a warm tingle  in their wake. My eyes closed again and I swallowed, trying to keep down  everything his touch evoked. Then, his fingers opened and slid around  to the back of my neck, his thumbs resting on my cheeks, pulling my face  even closer to his. "I want you to trust me," he said softly. "But I  know I have to earn that back from you. But please, tell me you'll give  me that chance. Let me show you."

I could feel his breath on my lips, could smell him all around me, and  feel his hands on my skin. Then, suddenly, I was touching him too. My  hands tentatively rested on his chest and he took in a small but audible  breath at my touch.

"Please, sweetheart," he begged. It was as if he was asking for  everything: to forgive him, to love him, to be with him, to let it all  go and move forward. I couldn't answer him, didn't have all the  resolutions he was looking for, but I could kiss him. So I moved my lips  just close enough to his to feel the warmth of them. Then, like I'd  given him the first ray of light in a dark room, he took my mouth and  showed me how sorry he was.

It wasn't a soft kiss. It wasn't a slow kiss. It was a desperate kiss,  as if he were afraid I was going to change my mind at any moment and he  was trying to soak up as much of me as he could before I came to my  senses. But my senses had fled and left me alone with this man and his  mouth.

It was a hungry kind of kiss, the kind of kiss that was vocal. I could  hear him kissing me, all the growls and groans. I didn't need to worry  about breathing because, somehow, the kiss was breathing for me.

His hands were still on either side of my face, holding me to him,  turning me every which way, trying to reach every part of my lips with  his. My fists gripped his jacket, then blindly found their way to the  zipper, pulling it down and finding his shirt underneath. I slid my  fingertips down his torso, remembering every ripple of corded muscle,  every ridge. When I reached the hem, I slipped my hands beneath it and  started my journey back up his stomach, this time feeling his warm skin  against mine.

He spun us around, one hand coming to my back, and he pressed me down to sit on the seat of his bike, straddling my knees.

Then, he shifted gears unexpectedly and I was floating. His mouth was a  whisper upon mine and he feathered his hands down my neck, along my jaw,  teasing my collarbone.

All the times Preston and I had been together, he'd been all manner of  lovers. The first time was hard and rough; the release of all the  tension we'd built between us. The second time was sweet and slow; a  celebration of finding one another. But this, dear sweet Lord, this was  divine. He was worshiping me, giving thanks, and each kiss was a prayer.  Each kiss seemed almost breakable, so fragile, and it was perhaps that  moment, in that kiss, I realized how sorry Preston actually was.

The reverence with which he touched me, the gentleness, it broke  something inside of me. The dam I'd built, the wall I'd erected, and it  came crashing down. Each tender kiss from him was like a wrecking ball  to my defenses. Tears started streaming down my face, but for the first  time in months, they were a mixture of sad and happy tears.

A sob broke free against his mouth, and then his hands gripped my hips  and he hauled me up against him, lifting me off the ground. My legs went  around his waist without a single thought, and then he sat the bike so  he was balancing on it and I was straddling his lap. His hands moved  upward, moving over my back, curving over the top of my shoulders,  pulling me down to him even more.

I cried against him and eventually my face found the crook of his neck  and I let everything out I'd held on to so tightly since that day when I  thought my world had fallen apart. He let me cry. He held me, rubbed  every part of my body available to him with his large, strong hands. He  whispered to me, trying to calm me.

"Shh. Baby, please."

His voice was shallow and broken, hurting along with me.

"I'm so sorry."

I could hear the sorrow in the low timbre of his voice.

"Everything is all right now."

I believed him.

When I'd finally exorcized all the emotions from my body, I pulled away  and looked at him. He looked just as wrecked as I felt with worried eyes  and creased brow. I cupped his jaw with my hands and spoke softly to  him.

"I forgive you." I shook as I spoke the words. I wanted him to hear me  say it, so I said it again, louder this time. "I forgive you, Preston."

"Lena-"

"No, let me finish." I took a breath and trudged forward, staring into  his eyes, watching the worried look from his face slowly disintegrate.  "It was shitty that you lied to me." I watched as he opened his mouth to  speak, but I narrowed my eyes at him. "But, I understand why you did  it." My thumbs brushed over the peaks of his chiseled cheekbones under  his beard and a smile crept across my face. "And if I didn't love you so  much, I would probably hold it against you forever."

I watched as the understanding moved over the features of his face as he  realized what I had said and what it meant. His hands slid down my  back, coming to my sides just over my ribcage, his thumbs just brushing  the sensitive skin at the underside of my breasts through my shirt.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you, how many times I stopped  myself from getting on a plane and just coming for you. You'll never  know … "         

     



 

"It's okay," I said, my forehead pressed against his. "I wasn't ready  for you. If you'd come any sooner, I probably would have turned you  away. I was pretty mad at you for a while."