Below Unforgiven (18 page)

One glance in the mirror and I knew I was covered in hives.
He doesn’t swear unless he’s really mad.
I scratched at my neck, my heart thudding, my throat constricted in a choke hold by his words.
Saving it?

For us?

“What?” I managed, and his tone softened.

“Please come home to me.” Matthew’s voice, so composed, my sanctuary in the crazy world that I had created for myself, drew me in. “We’re losing time together, and I hate it. I just want to hold you, baby,
please
.”

“Why are you doing this?
Now?
” I cringed at the sob in my throat, fighting back the burning tears. “Because he answered the phone?”

“Because I never planned to let you go forever. You wanted to heal.
Alone
. I’ve given you that.”

“I can’t do this right now, Matthew. I’m sorry,” I whispered, ending the call.

He still loved me.

He’s been waiting for me?
Putting the money I’ve been slaving over to send him aside for a house for us?

I was panicking, and I quickly searched the room for something, anything, to clean. The pile of towels on the bathroom floor would do. I began folding them, placing them in a neat stack next to the tub.

The sound of the door opening in Keaton’s room jarred me from the torrent of tears that threatened. I’d left the door between us partly open.

“V! We have to go, come on, we-…,”

He froze.

I nodded and stood, smoothing my dress and taking deep breaths. “Sorry, I had to take a phone call, I’m coming, let me just… grab some tissues, I…,”

I felt his hand on my elbow, and turned to lift my face.

“Hey.” He cupped my chin gently, his striking hazel gaze absorbing, drinking me in. I’d thrown on the yellow sundress, not able to remember exactly which event it was meant for but too preoccupied with my own thoughts to care.

“Hey.”

“Did I fuck things up?” He asked, gesturing to my phone in my hand.

I kept my eyes locked in his. “No, he did.”

He nodded slowly, taking a step toward me. “Am I confusing you?”

I put my arms around him without thinking, raising my face to his. “I can’t do this.”

He stared into my eyes, unblinking. “You want to go home.”

Bravely, I shook my head. “No. I want you to finish what you started…
last night…,
”

He had me in his arms before I could end my sentence. My back slammed against the hotel room wall and all of the air came out of my lungs in one excited breath. My legs wrapped around his waist as his mouth crushed to mine.

His tongue traced over my lips, parting them. Leveraging me against the wall, he held me steady, locking my body against him. My fingers found his thick hair as I drew him even closer, and he groaned.

My pulse was thumping wildly in my neck, and as though drawn there, he tore his mouth from mine and dropped his lips to my throat. I ground against him, burning with impatience as his hand bunched at the skirt of my dress. The dip in my collarbone fascinated him, and he took his time sucking, tasting, until I was throbbing.

I waited for his mouth to return to mine again.

When it did, his tongue plunged, tangling with my tongue, and he exhaled. “I can’t kiss you fast enough,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. I slid my thighs against his bare stomach, clinging to his waist, my hand reaching for the lamp fixture as I attempted to steady myself.

He gripped my spread thighs, supporting, slipping his thumb over the lacy material of my panties to draw tight circles over my clit. The pressure sent tremors to my core. Trembling, I tore away from his mouth and cried out, my eyes lifting to the ceiling as he pushed, harder and faster, his chin dragging along my chest.

“Your hand,” I managed, not really making any sense. Did I mean stop? Go? Harder?

He had no problem interpreting, shoving the thin scrap of lace to the side. I came apart as I felt his strong hand, his fingers thrusting inside.

“Keaton,” I managed, again, and then again, his name becoming the only word my voice was capable of saying.

“I feel you,” he answered, so deep. “You’re so fucking ready for me.
I want inside of you, Vivian. Now.
”

“Oh,
shit
.”

Robin’s voice sent Keaton backwards, and he caught me from falling just before I hit the floor. She disappeared back into Keaton’s room in a wake of expletives. “I’m sorry! Shit. Shit shit
shit
.”

Keaton dropped his forehead to mine, searching for breath, grinning. “Robin, go away, we’re busy.”

I shot him a reprimanding glare, but he only continued smiling.

She made a disgusted sound from the other room. “We have to be at the salon in ten minutes. You guys are going to have to finish this shit on your own time,” she called, slamming the door of Keaton’s room in a huff.

I lifted my face to his, breathless.

“You left the door open?”

“I swung the bar latch to prop the door open. I thought we’d be leaving. I’ll lock it.”

“
Wait
,” he was bending to my chest, cupping my breast, sucking, and I was dissolving again. “Wait, you heard your sister,
we have to go.
”

“Fuck the salon. After I do you, I’ll do your hair.” His teeth nipped at my skin.

I laugh-moaned; I couldn’t help it. The build-up, the tension, and the overwhelming desire lingering in the space between us had me wondering if I was temporarily insane. I was still seeing stars from the intensity of what he’d done to me, and how it’d made me feel.

“Come on, Keaton. We have to go.”

He grinned, and that dimple forced my lips to curve into a smirk. He teased my smile with his, and this time, his kiss was long and slow.

I sighed against his mouth.

“You make me feel… everything.”

He gripped me tighter, his warm breath on my lips.

“This fucking contract. I can’t wait to fire you.”

“
Fire me?
” His hand and his mouth were roving, and I loved every second of it.

“Would you like to hear about your unemployment package?” His fingers pinched my ass, and I giggled, squirming.

“
Come on!
” Robin’s voice yelled from down the hallway, and I grinned.

“You can show me your package later. Let’s go.”

Watching Keaton leave with the other men in the wedding party was more difficult than I expected, especially since my friendship with Robin was bordering on strained. I’d been fit into the schedule at the last minute, taking Lindsey the Cunt’s hair and make-up appointment. Now that Lindsey was back, the salon had graciously offered me an appointment as well.

Keaton pressed his credit card to my palm on his way to the photo location with the guys, lowering his mouth to my ear. “
Anything you want.
”

His mother stayed back in the hotel room, complaining of a migraine, which drove Robin to snag a bottle of champagne from the kitchen before climbing onto the limo. I sat next to Robin while the girls talked excitedly with the bride.

Lilly and Kate Singleslut were sisters (that wasn’t their last name, of course, but with the eye-fucking they’d given Keaton at the rehearsal and the stink eye I was getting now, I decided the new surname was appropriate.) Per Robin, Madeline had already assured them that Keaton was hot, rich, and single, so they were united against me from the moment that I was introduced as his girlfriend. Every once in a while I could feel their eyes boring into me as they whispered between themselves.

Alexis was Madeline’s best friend since elementary school, and I already knew that she was intensely competitive over Lindsey’s spot as Maid of Honor. When I’d been offered the open position, I almost expected Alexis to walk out of the church.

Carrie and Sherry were married, and that little rhyme was exactly how I remembered their names. Their spouses were back in the hotel room enjoying room service and Pay-Per-View porn.

When Lindsey asked Sherry when she was due, she claimed to be seventeen months pregnant, explaining ruefully that there would only be nine months between her new baby and her son, Austin.

Lindsey the Cunt proceeded to ask if her husband had ‘tapped that’ while she was still in the stirrups, thus earning her another nasty title that I heard Married Sherry whisper to Best Friend Alexis.

The limo bus was overflowing with a cutthroat bunch of wenches, according to Robin, and I should ignore everything they say. I glanced down at my phone, grinning to realize Robin was texting me even as we sat right next to each other.

I’ve laced the champagne with Midol.

“Drink up, ladies!” She called, passing the bottle around to all of them. I laughed, and Madeline gave me a questioning smile.

“Vivian, are you even old enough to drink?” Lindsey asked, and I nodded.

“Today’s her birthday! Twenty-one and gorgeous. Be jealous, bitches.” Robin clanked glasses with me, and I twirled a long strand of hair anxiously.

“Happy birthday,” they all called, way too enthusiastically, and I thanked them, sipping my champagne. Realizing I’d eaten nothing for breakfast, I slowed my gulping.

“Okay, salon, and then back to the hotel to get dressed. The ceremony is at one-thirty, pictures right after, and dinner and reception at five. I need everyone ready for the procession
right at five.
I don’t care what you’re
doing
between the photos and five o’clock (yes, I was the recipient of that suggestive look) but I expect everyone standing in the conference room at five
on time.
Women, get your men in check.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Madeline saluted Robin playfully, and Robin threw back her champagne with a grin.

Another text came through moments later.

Did he pay you for what I walked in on today?

I turned to her sharply. She raised her eyebrows, tapping her champagne flute with her black fingernail.

I texted back.
I like him.

She rolled her eyes.
No shit.

I really like him.
Lame. It looked like a thirteen-year-old had drafted my message.

I hope you like getting your heart BROKEN again.

??

You’re convenient for him. And then he’ll leave.

You don’t know that.

He’s not here forever, Viv. He’s leaving on Monday.

The salon was packed, and I settled into a chair while a nice girl named Rose proclaimed that I had the longest, thickest, healthiest hair that she’d ever seen, proceeding to irritate the hell out of all of the girls but Robin. As she worked on my up-do, I grinned at another text.

Keaton had sent a picture of Luke puking into a giant, bedazzled goblet that read PIMP in shiny letters. Luke sat on the toilet with his pants around his ankles and his shirt covering his junk. In giant, red lipstick, the letters FML were scrawled across the bathroom mirror.

I grinned, assuming that this was the bachelor party from the week prior. I’d heard from Robin that Luke had been fucked up for days.

I typed my response quickly.

Was there a tiger in the bathroom?

His text came through seconds later.

Wish I had been here for this.

I’m sure Luke wishes that, too.

I watched the girl work my hair up into a bun, intrigued as it turned out both messy and classy at the same time.

Another message from Keaton.

What’s taking so long? They can’t make you any more beautiful.

Oh, my
stupid
heart. I leaned forward, angry as Matthew’s words (that I’d managed to block out for hours) played through my mind.

Are you there, beauty?

The day I’d walked out, Matthew had been standing in the rain, begging me not to leave. He swore that we’d get through everything that we’d lost, with help, with counseling, or time, or whatever the hell people do when the one thing they love more than their own life just
dies
.

When my own flesh and blood just completely stops living and becomes a tragic fucking memory and nothing else.

I remembered how the rain had run down his glasses so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

It made it easier to leave.

The ride back from the salon to the hotel was even livelier, with all of the girls complaining about this or that, giggling, sharing too much. As we filed into the hotel, Sherry announced that the guys had gone out to lunch and would be back by noon.

Madeline needed a paper bag to breathe into with the sudden change of plans (“They’re supposed to be here getting dressed! He’s not going to make it!”) but Robin assured her that the guys didn’t need an hour to get dressed-they needed four
minutes
, a toothbrush, and a girl to fix their cummerbund.

The girls got together in the lobby restaurant to eat something light, and I managed to have a salad and a roll before leaving them all to their own excited discussions. Robin watched me stand, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“Just going to my room before we get dressed. I
have
to read that book. I promised I’d mail it back on Monday.”

She rolled her eyes, gagging. “Oh, the erotic romance? How are things going with good old Damon and his pulsating, gargantuan peen?”

“Not well,” I admitted with a wayward smile, leaning down to hug her before heading for the elevator.

I left the latch opened in the doorway as Keaton had done before, listening for the girls to come back to our floor.

My dad’s number flashed on my phone, and I sighed, declining his call. I knew that he wanted to wish me a happy birthday, but inevitably my mother would get on the phone.

After the baby was gone, my mother had suddenly switched gears in her opinion of Matthew. Something about the experience had made her accept him, finally, though I no longer cared whether she approved of our relationship or not. When I left him, my parents used every opportunity to get us back together, convinced that Matthew was the only one who could pull me out of the spiraling depression that had set in.