It doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it though.
His fingers reach their destination, entwining with mine. I don’t pull away, but I neither do I return the sensual strokes.
‘Sasha, I—’
‘Don’t, Ryan. Just don’t.’ There’s no need. There are no words.
‘Sasha, please. I need to explain. I can’t bear you thinking I just waltzed off and left you. I had no idea about your parents—’
‘It’s not even about my parents. Regardless of that…’
It hangs unspoken in the air between us, the weight of what we had, what he left, because there really are no words. Not for me anyway. Nothing could adequately describe the connection we had. The connection he broke. It was sacrosanct.
‘I would never have chosen to leave you.’ Pain weaves into every syllable of every word so convincingly, I almost believe him. ‘I had no choice.’ Grabbing my hands, he lowers his face until his forehead presses against mine. ‘I can’t fully elaborate, but it was my dad.’ He pulls back, shaking his head, an angry expression scrunching his features.
Swallowing down the million questions sparking inside, I wait, even though it kills me. For years I’ve wondered, contemplating every possible reason under the sun.
I wait with bated breath, silently pleading for him to open up to me. To give me a sliver of proof he didn’t leave me willingly. That I wasn’t wrong about what we had. That one day I might trust myself to move on, because it wasn’t something I did or didn’t do. That our relationship wasn’t something I misinterpreted.
Ryan sighs, running a hand through his floppy hair. ‘I don’t know the specific details, but my father said if we didn’t leave for the States that night he would be imprisoned or killed. The haunted look in his eyes was different to any I’d ever seen before. He was even more shaken than the months following my mother’s departure. I didn’t doubt the truth of his words, they were etched into every deepening line on his face. He hinted Jayden and I could be in danger if we stayed. He was so ashen.’
Ryan’s father was a crook, white-collar crime his speciality. Even my own father was aware of Mr Cooper’s business dealings, but his rent was always on time and they were excellent tenants, so he kept his nose out of it.
‘I might have been eighteen, but I was still a kid. Just a boy. I was terrified for my father, and of him. He had one hell of a temper.’
He shifts from one foot to the other, an enigmatic expression carved on his face. Any remaining resentment I harboured thaws, melting to a wetness that heads straight for my underwear.
‘I assumed a financial scandal large enough to have us fleeing the country must have hit the headlines – that you and your family had been as disgusted as the rest of the country. I never felt good enough for you, Sasha. And I didn’t get the chance to prove myself worthy of you while you were mine.’
He didn’t feel good enough for me?
‘I spent the first two months in Texas praying to hear something, anything from you. Even if it was your disgust at my father’s illegal activities. I had no idea you were dealing with a bigger trauma of your own.’
Ryan didn’t choose to leave me.
It was out of his control.
A numbness settles inside of me.
He tugs me towards him, enveloping me in his strong, familiar embrace. The scent of his skin, soap and masculinity, has my insides on fire with longing.
‘I am so so sorry, sweetheart. For everything. I had no idea that you lost everything that night, but believe me when I say I lost everything when I left you.’
‘Couldn’t you have been honest with me? You could have trusted me with anything. You could have told me just enough to know it wasn’t me. I spent years wondering what I’d done to drive you away. Driving myself crazy.’
‘And I spent years thinking you were disgusted with me. I had no idea what you’d been through.’ His grip on me intensifies. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart.’
Melting into his chest, the tears stream uncontrollably across my cheeks. Tears for what we lost. Tears for what could have been. Tears for my parents. Tears for him. Tears for our baby.
When his hot full lips seek me out, I can’t fight it. His mouth presses against mine with an urgency fuelled by both passion and pain. Our tongues entwine, stroking, dancing, devouring. My chest crushes deliciously against his. Every nerve ending inside sparks to life with a scorching, fervent passion I didn’t realise I still possessed.
His palms cup my face before dropping to my waist. To the underside of my breast. He lifts me onto the counter without breaking our kiss. Urgent hands grip my backside before tracing my thighs, parting them enough for him to insert his hips between them.
My breath’s laboured and my heart thrashes erratically in my chest – it’s so loud every single person in the castle must be able to hear it. Gripping his shoulders, I wiggle closer to the edge of the worktop, pressing every inch of me against him. He murmurs something incoherent but appreciative into my mouth, grinding against me.
Ryan’s here.
Ryan’s kissing me.
