Back to the Beginning: A Duet (20 page)

“Or human,” he corrected. “If I’d seen what you did… if I’d had to look at another man with his hands on you, I’d have killed the bastard. Circumstances be damned.”

“I don’t want to talk about that… not now. Not ever again. You didn’t hurt me, Vincent. Melina Tate used you to hurt me and vice versa. I’m not letting her win. I’m not giving her that kind of power over us.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy. “That’s it? You’re just closing the book on it like it didn’t happen?”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Do you want me not to? We can fight about it. We can talk about it till we’re blue in the face, but it’s not going to change anything. And if anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I should have trusted you and I didn’t… I’m going upstairs. And you should come with me. We have another day in this house alone before we go pick up Isabella and I don’t want to waste it.”

“What do you have in mind?”

She smiled. “It’s more of a show than a tell, Vincent. You’re going to like what I did today… I promise.”

Any rational thought went completely out the window. God, he wanted her. As Vincent rose to follow her, his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen and cursed. “It’s Stanley. I have to take it.”

Ophelia pursed her lips “You have five minutes or I’m starting without you.”

Vincent watched her go, watched the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs and cursed again. Answering the call, he said, “Stanley, this had better be good.”

Stanley chuckled softly. “It’s better than good… I stopped and paid Claude a visit on my way home. He’s singing like a bird. He’s given me a signed affidavit detailing every bit of Melina’s involvement. If you want to push for an indictment, I can probably make it happen.”

“No. I just want it done. I don’t even care. Hold on to everything and if she starts stirring shit up again, we will, but for now, I just want it over.”

Stanley made a sound of disagreement. “It’s your call, but I think we should pursue it. Take a few days and think about it, okay?”

Vincent sighed. “Fine. I have to go.” Vincent turned his phone off and for an added measure of freedom, left it laying on the desk as he headed up the stairs. When he walked into the bedroom, the lights were turned down. Candles had been lit and the shades were drawn, casting the whole room in shadow.

Vincent sat down on the edge of the bed to wait for her and whatever surprises she had in store for him.

*

Ophelia surveyed her
reflection and wondered for a moment if she’d lost her mind. It wasn’t Vincent who didn’t see her as sexy. The problem was that
she’d
stopped seeing herself that way and so she’d spent the day doing all the things that would help her feel that way again. She’d splurged ridiculously—spa treatments, a new haircut, and new lingerie.

It was the kind of lingerie she used to wear. Before she’d had a baby. Before she’d breastfed a baby. Her breasts were spilling out of the minuscule cups, the tops of her nipples clearly visible above the black satin. The matching garter belt and lace topped stockings made her feel sexy, though. And the tiny thong panties, held together with a simple ribbon, revealed that her spa day had included very thorough waxing.

Slipping her feet into the highest heels she’d worn in her life, she walked toward the door and took a deep breath. There was no hiding in that getup. Stretch marks, a belly that had never been flat and now never would be. But that was the point. She needed to feel sexy as she was, and not as she used to be.

Opening the door, Ophelia paused in the doorway and met Vincent’s gaze. The moment of doubt faded. He looked at her and she knew that he didn’t see the flaws she did, he didn’t see the changes. He saw her and he wanted her, just the way she was.

“I’m never dancing around a pole,” she said. “But I thought a little bit of spice wouldn’t hurt.”

He swallowed before speaking and when he did manage to utter words, his voice was deep and gruff. “If that’s what you call a little bit of spice, anything beyond it would be the death of me… Jesus, Ophelia!”

She walked towards him, feeling bolder. When she reached him, she nudged his knees apart with one of her own until she was standing between his thighs. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she forced him to tip his head back to look up at her. “Jesus has nothing to do with this.”

Vincent’s hands skimmed her thighs, coming to rest on her hips. His thumbs moved in slow circles over the tender skin between the edge of her garter belt and the narrow band of her panties. “As often as you call out to God,” he said with a smirk, “I just assumed it was a religious experience.”

With her hands on his shoulders, Ophelia pushed him back on the bed. He was being shockingly cooperative in letting her take the lead. Her hands roamed his chest, before finally sliding beneath the hem of the t-shirt he wore. Raking her nails over his skin, she smiled as he cursed between clenched teeth.

“Don’t tease, Ophelia,” he warned.

“Or what?” she fired back as she grasped his belt buckle and began slowly unfastening it. There were no hurried movements. The back of her hand brushed against the hard the ridge of his erection and when he cursed again, she repeated the movement. “Teasing is the best part, Vincent. Building slowly toward a big finish… Take your shirt off and then put your hands behind your head.”

He did so, but it was grudging. “We generally enjoy this more if I get to touch you, too.”

“You will…but not until I say so. It’s been too long since I got to be the one in charge.” Ophelia punctuated the statement by pressing her lips to his chest and giving him a slightly less than gentle bite. With her hand still pressed against his cock, she felt his immediate reaction.

“Christ. You can be in charge whenever you want,” he muttered.

Ophelia laughed softly, a low and throaty sound that was pure sex. She felt powerful. She felt sexy and she felt like
herself
again. Tugging his belt free at last, she dropped it to the floor and then unfastened his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly to reveal the silk boxers beneath. Rather than remove his clothes, she simply reached in and eased his cock free of the constraining fabric.

The heat of him in her hand was too tempting. Stroking him gently from base to tip, Ophelia felt the shudder that rippled through his body. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted him to tremble for her as she did for him. With that goal in mind, she trailed softer and gentler kisses down his stomach, until she could take him in her mouth.

His breath hissed out and his thighs clenched beneath her hands. Drawing him deeper, Ophelia swirled her tongue over his rigid flesh, feeling him grow even harder. Glancing up at him through her lashes, she noted his intent gaze. He was watching everything she did and that excited her more than anything else.

Relaxing her jaw, she took him deeper, keeping her lips clamped tightly around him. When he groaned, his muscles tensing and his eyes flashing as he stared at her, Ophelia reached up and raked her nails lightly over his balls.

Any pretense of allowing her to be in charge was gone. Vincent reached for her, hauling her onto the bed even as he turned them both over. She was on her back, he was above her, pinning her down, both of her hands captured in one of his, and the look in his eyes was absolutely feral.

“Enough,” he growled. “We made a deal once, Ophelia. In this room,
I’m
the one who calls the shots. You know that.”

She didn’t have an opportunity to answer. He didn’t give her one. His lips descended on hers in a crushing kiss. It was a clash of lips, teeth and tongues, a battle for dominance and he was clearly the victor. But defeat brought its own reward. She felt consumed by him, devoured, but above all, she felt desired. He kissed her like a man starved for her. The physical power was his, but she had a power all her own—the power to make him burn.

Shifting beneath him, she brought her knees up, locking her legs around his hips, pulling him against her. She loved him like this—craved the power and the need that drove them both.

His mouth moved from hers, down her neck, his teeth nipping with force just shy of leaving a bruise. He let go of her hands, but when she started to move them, he pressed them back against the pillow in silent command. A shattered moan broke from her and her hips arched against him, seeking more. “Vincent, please!”

“No,” he said roughly. “You wanted to tease, Ophelia… so do I.”

She had no idea what he meant. Her brain had ceased functioning. But when grasped the satin cups of her bra, pulling them down and freeing her breasts to his touch, to the heat of his mouth, she was simply lost. Her head fell back and a sob escaped her lips as he took one taut peak into his mouth and then the other, sucking deeply, devouring her.

He continued his exploration of her body, kissing and licking his way down to the scrap of black fabric covering her mound. When his mouth closed over her, his tongue spearing between slick folds with the added stimulation of the dampened fabric against her, Ophelia didn’t just cry out. She screamed for him, incoherent and desperate.

His mouth moved over her, his tongue circling but never quite touching her clit. He would come so close and then move away again, building anticipation until she thought she’d die from it.

“Vincent, for the love of God!”

“What do you want?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I’ll give you anything, if you just ask.”

“Then fuck me… now.”

The ribbon holding her thong in place snapped beneath his fingers and he tossed the panties aside. He levered himself over her, the thick head of his cock pressing against her. Ophelia removed her hands from the pillow then, unclenching her fingers from the fabric and reached for him, guiding him into her.

It brought instant relief to the ache that he had built inside her, the clawing need abating for just a moment. But as he pressed deeper, filling her completely, that ache returned. Every thrust as he moved within her, surging deeper and harder, ratcheted the tension to new heights.

Clinging to him, his muscles drawing taut beneath her hands as he drove them both closer to the edge, Ophelia arched beneath him. Head back, her body bowed beneath him, and the first crashing wave of her orgasm drew a shattered cry from her. Her body trembled and shuddered from the force of it, shaking beneath him as he quickened his thrusts.

When he followed her over the edge, the heat of his release flooding inside her, tears burned her eyes. After all they’d been through, after the hurt and anger and fear had all washed away, they were still there, still together. Nothing would ever break them, she thought. Not even her own doubts and fears.

“God, I love you,” he said, his voice still ragged. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

“Don’t ever let me,” she replied breathlessly. “I don’t just love you, Vincent. I need you. It scares me to death sometimes, but—.” She stopped, unable to finish the thought.

He rolled off her, drawing her into his arms, holding onto her. “But what?”

Laying there, with his arms around her, and feeling for the first time since the entire mess had started that things really would be okay, Ophelia sighed in relief. “It’s worth it. It’ll always be worth it… I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I walked out when you needed me to believe in you.”

He kissed her, not passionately, but lovingly, with all the tenderness she needed from him in that moment. “I need you to. I always will. It doesn’t matter how all this started… only how it ended. We’re both right where we need to be.”

‡
Epilogue