Page 49 of Vow of Revenge
Mr. B wasn’t my hero, nor was he a monster - he was just a man.
Present day
He didn’t kiss me.
His mouth lapped up my excitement and he fucked me hard, but his lips never found their way to mine. It was clear his intentions were purely sex driven and that thought alone gave way to an unexpected disappointment. I’d been fine in my own life, with my sister as my rock. Then he came along and made me wonder if there was something significant that I was missing out on. Did I need a relationship to make me feel complete? Would the man behind the frosty glare melt just enough to let me in? I wanted him too, although I wasn’t sure if it was possible.
What man turns up unannounced to a woman’s doorstep under the guise of business, fucks her quick and fast and then walks away without mentioning anything remotely related to business? Kaleb De Courcy, that’s who. The sex was incredible. That, I couldn’t and wouldn’t deny, but I ached to be the woman who he returned to, time and time again. Those velvety lips of his were a sensory aphrodisiac and he had deprived me of their captivating taste.
After our intense sex session in his town car, Gavin took us back to Glimmer – both of us silent in a stunned afterglow. I couldn’t help wondering if he was thinking the same as me, that the sex was just as incredible, if not better, than when we were both high. A casual nod and slow blink were the height of his communication. I noted how his hands balled, held close to his muscular thighs, like he was holding back a bouncy steed. His distance and cold goodbye were enough to etch a line under everything that was Kaleb De Courcy.
The impossible deadline imposed by Lynn had well and truly expired. Strangely enough, the article was included in the magazine. Cynthia must have given it the green light in my absence. I made a mental note to thank her for letting it run. Thankfully, I didn’t see Lynn for the rest of the day because she left the office citing a migraine – or as I thought, shattered pride.
I left the office, my brain numb and jam packed with hazy daydreams of how the car had been filled with his broodiness and masculine smell. Kaleb was reeling me in like a trophy salmon, and I was poking my head out of the river beckoning him to slit my throat and gut out my beating heart.
“You want Indian tonight? I’m thinking Byriani and Tikka Masala.” Syrah peered around my bedroom door. She tilted her head to the side, eyeing my thoughtful idleness slumped low in front of a blank computer screen.
“Sure,” I replied, kicking back my chair, rolling towards the bed. “You order, and I’ll eat.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m super tired.”
“Anything else?”
I flopped onto the clean sheets. I loved it when the housekeeper changed my bed linens. There was nothing more satisfying than a freshly made bed (or a hard and fast fuck with Kaleb).
“I saw him today,” I said, catching her eye to gauge her unspoken thoughts – I could read her like a book.
Syrah’s smile flowed with mischief. “And?”
Suddenly I was aware of the rain tumbling from the heavens, pummelling the balcony outside the French doors. The gods were lamenting my downfall, their pity was sincere, my twisted emotions were more than deserved.
“I don’t want to go through this mind fuck, Syrah. I know you warned me, but he turned up at Glimmer and just for sex.” I tapped my temple with my forefingers and sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, the sex was hot. It’s just… I can’t get him out of my head. So… maybe there shouldn’t be a next time.” My heart withered, reducing in size from a powerful vital organ to a mediocre blood pump.
Syrah’s smile faded, she hastily joined me on the bed, crushing me in a tight squeeze. “Yes, I think that’s for the best. If he asks to see you again, just say no.”
“I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like we have a connection, a vein that tugs us together, bleeding our souls into one beautiful monster. It’s like he belongs to me, but he despises me all in one.”
Syrah gasped loudly. “Shit, Freya that’s deep. I can’t believe you’ve got feelings for him already. This is bad. He doesn’t care about women. He just plays with them like a cat taunting a mouse.” Her tone was filled with mourning. She empathised with my struggle, placing herself in my shoes, considering how she would feel if it was Brett.
“I wish we could have fallen for two good guys, at the same time. I feel horrendous knowing you’re miserable.”
I stroked her glossy hair and breathed in the wonderful scent of my sister. She was all I needed, above money and men. Her friendship had been my saviour since the day she let me sleep in her extra-large princess bed after my mother’s sad face terrorised my dreams. I had fallen asleep with her arms holding me close and her sweet little voice humming a lullaby.
“I’m happy for you, Syrah. Honestly.” I was. She deserved to find happiness.
Her eyes twinkled. “Thanks.”
“Are you going up to Northern Ireland?” I asked.
“Yes, in a couple of weeks… I need a favour…” She sucked in her lips. “Please come with me. Brett said you can come too, if it makes the whole thing easier for me. Knowing you’re there will take the pressure off me. There’s lots to do up there. You’ve always wanted to try clay pigeon shooting. It will give you space from, Kaleb. Don’t worry he isn’t going. Brett says he rarely goes home, and he’s looking after Tilly for him.”
“Tilly?”
“Eh, yeah. Brett’s five-year-old daughter. He wants me to meet her at some point.”
My heart flipped. Kaleb babysitting a little girl. In that split second, I realised I knew nothing about him other than he was the best sex I’d ever had.
