Page 135 of Fourth Point Of Contact

I spentthe next five days getting to know Patrick’s mother. She was amazingly wonderful, teaching me all kinds of things that no one had bothered to show me. Like, how to bake a pie or how to make a really good pot roast.

Not that I had ever attempted to make a pot roast in my life.

But now I knew. She gave me all her little secrets, and I desperately scribbled them down in a notebook, soaking up the information like a sponge. Patrick watched from the wings, eyeing me curiously, but I just played it off as if I was working my magic on her. And it had started that way, but over the course of five days, I had grown to love this woman as if she was my own mother. Yes, she was pushy and kept giving me advice, but since I’d never had a mother to give me advice, I loved every second of it.

And her hugs.

God, I loved her hugs. Every time she placed her hand on my back, I felt a warmth travel through me and ping in the center of my chest. She always looked at me so adoringly that I found it harder and harder to tell myself that this was all for show. I genuinely liked this woman, and knowing that I was deceiving her hurt my heart. I didn’t want to get this woman’s hopes up for nothing, especially since I knew just how much Patrick was avoiding relationships like the plague.

I’d tried multiple times to find a way to tell her I wasn’t being honest with her, but every time, I chickened out. Would she hate me? Would Patrick throw me out? I felt so pathetic, clinging to a life that wasn’t even mine. When this was over, Patrick would move on and his mother would still be his. But me? I’d be on the other side of the country, all alone again.

I stood in the bathroom upstairs, taking a minute to myself as tears pricked the back of my eyes. This was all coming to an end. Tomorrow, she would go home and the charade would be over. There would be no more pretending that this was my life or that I would ever be part of this family. It was amazing how none of that had ever bothered me before. Then again, I’d never known what it was like to have someone truly care about me in this way.

“Honey, we should start on that apple pie now,” she called out.

I blew out a harsh breath as I stared at myself in the mirror. The tears lining my eyes were a dead giveaway of my sadness, and she’d know as soon as she saw me that something was wrong. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this one?

I wiped the tears from my eyes and jerked the door open, running right into Patrick. I stumbled back a step, but he snagged me around the waist before I could get away.

“Running away so soon?” he rumbled, tugging me against his body.

His hot breath skimmed along my neck as he pressed kisses to my chilled skin, instantly warming me.

“I—” Words escaped me as I fell down the rabbit hole again, searching for a way out but coming up empty. His kisses were like a drug to me, keeping me in his web when I desperately wanted to claw my way out just to survive.

“So eager to get away from me?” he murmured, nipping at my ear.

My body lit on fire as his fingers trailed down my waist, dipping into my pants. As his fingers skimmed over my clit, my breath hitched in my chest, but my heart hammered out of control. Those blue eyes held my gaze, forcing me to look into the sparkling depths as he dragged his fingers through my pussy and thrust inside me.

A moan escaped my lips in a desperate plea, to which he eagerly responded, shoving me against the vanity as he leaned his weight against the sink.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed, his fingers slipping from my body. I cried out at the loss of him as he quickly unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the ground. Seconds later, he tore my leggings from my body and sheathed himself inside me. I cried out in pleasure, gripping his shoulders as he thrust in and out, taking me at a brutal pace that had me biting my lip and praying I could hold on.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured as his lips latched onto my neck and sucked hard as he gripped my ass and pulled me closer. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

“Patrick,” I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Harder.”

He shifted his weight, sliding my leg around his waist as he started pumping into me deeper and faster. Spots danced in my vision with every damning snap of his hips. His biceps flexedwith the power of holding me to him, promising to never let go, not until we were both satisfied.

“Why can’t I get enough of you, Piper? What the fuck are you doing to me?”

I bit my lip, preventing myself from crying out that I desperately needed him, that I never wanted him to let me go. Everything was so right when I was in his arms. But in just another day, I would go home, and he would forget about me.

Afraid he would look in my eyes and see exactly what I was feeling, I buried my face in his neck and cried out as his muscular arms tugged me closer, holding me to him as he sank himself into my heat over and over until I was coming apart in his arms. Harsh panting filled my ears as he thrust in one last time and came inside me. His fingers bit into my hips as he stilled, his heart hammering against mine.

I needed him to leave, to walk away before I fell apart. But instead, he brushed sweat-soaked strands of hair from my neck and pressed gentle kisses along my jaw. It was nearly my undoing and I had to drop my eyes to keep him from seeing exactly how devastated I was that this was all coming to an end.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along my cheek. “Talk to me.”

I couldn’t. Not even his gentle voice could coax the words from my lips. Afraid I would lose it and start crying, I buried my face into his neck again and held him tight. I could feel the stiffening of his muscles before he relaxed and pulled me tighter to him.

It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was all I needed to get me through these last hours. I was a survivor. I’d lived with shitty, non-existent parents, a fiancé who cheated on me, and I would survive the hurricane that was Patrick. I would move on and put my life back together, and he would become a distant memory.

I had to. It was the only way to make it out of this alive.

31

PATRICK

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