Finding London (Flawed Heart #1) (22 page)

“Wow, that’s so cool,” Paige says with awe.

“Yeah, well, both Berkeley and I joined up right when we were eighteen and worked our way up to Special Forces. It definitely beats most jobs out there. Though, to be honest, a lot of what we do here is boring.”

“What do you mean?” Paige asks.

“Just that the day-to-day stuff here is pretty standard, not much excitement going on. I suppose, like any job, it gets to be routine. Deployment is different though,” Cooper says before taking a huge bite of his enchilada.

“All right, Paige, stop with the interrogation,” I say with a chuckle.

“What? I’m just curious.” She shrugs before taking a sip of her peach margarita.

“I know, but let the guys eat.” I glance toward Cooper’s mostly uneaten meal, which is huge actually, including several à la carte items in addition to his combo platter. “Though I don’t know how you both eat so much and stay in such great shape.”

“We work out a lot, so we get to eat a lot. It’s a little perk.” Cooper winks.

I can’t help but giggle at his playfulness. I can see why Loïc loves him. He’s one of those people who would be impossible not to love.

“You didn’t think Berkeley here was born with that six-pack, did ya?” Cooper jokes.

“Yeah, we kinda did.” Paige chuckles.

“Well, I’ll agree that my boy here has to work a lot less than most for the same results. He’s definitely gifted in the looks department—so the girls say.”

“Oh, whatever, dude. I do just as much as you. Stop being a prick.” Loïc shakes his head, sporting a grin.

Cooper shoots Loïc a sly smile before redirecting his attention to Paige. “So, Paige, what do you do?”

“Not much at the moment. London and I graduated from college a couple of months ago. Now, we’re looking for jobs.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cooper questions, sounding interested. “Where at?”

She shrugs unapologetically. “Well, nowhere yet. We’re getting around to it. We’ve been busy.”

I see the momentary confusion on Cooper’s face as he assesses the situation even though he hides it well.

In the circle of people we normally hang around with, Paige’s comment wouldn’t have been questioned, but Cooper and Loïc have never been a part of that group of people. They belong to the crowd that has had to work for everything in their lives. I find that aspect of Loïc extremely sexy, and in this instant, I’m wondering how he finds me with my privileged life appealing in the least. I’ve never felt unworthy around anyone before Loïc. I don’t like questioning my worth, but dating someone who’s had to fight for every ounce of happiness he’s experienced is sobering.

“Well, what was your degree in?” Cooper asks Paige a follow-up question.

“I majored in marketing, and London studied journalism.”

“Very cool.” Cooper nods his head.

Cooper and Paige continue to chat away, and I sip on the straw of my margarita while taking in their conversation. I turn my attention to Loïc, who is sitting across the table from me. His gaze is focused on my face, and it causes a torrent of goose bumps to populate the surface of the skin on my arms. He has this way of completely exposing me with a simple look. Though, with Loïc, nothing is ever simple.

The slurping sound of my straw searching for liquid no longer present among the ice in the large margarita glass fills the space, and I stop sucking. Yet Loïc’s now seemingly darkened stare is still on me, and with nothing to occupy my lips, I start to chew on my bottom one.

His gaze is heavy, almost primal. It does something to my insides, and my body instantly responds to him. I feel the flush of desire creep up my neck and the familiar pull in my gut. His eyes dart from my lips to my eyes. Paige laughs at something Cooper said, but I barely hear it. My surroundings are now white noise to my sole focus—the gorgeous man before me.

I grab the bright yellow cotton napkin on the table, twisting and pulling it in my grasp. My palms feel sweaty as my heartbeat continues to accelerate. I’ve felt lust-filled want before, but it has never been this palpable, this urgent. With one look, Loïc has left me a fumbling mess of need with a craving so desperate that I would do almost anything to sate it.

I push back from the table. Clearing my throat, I say quickly, “I’m going to the restroom.”

I walk toward the restroom like my ass is on fire, and while it technically isn’t true, it sure feels like my entire body is ablaze. Inside the restroom, I wash my hands with cold water.

God, I’m a wreck.

My neck is splotchy, and my face is cranberry red. My pupils are dilated, and I look like I’ve just been thoroughly fucked or like I’m on drugs. Sighing, I shake my head to clear it. I don’t do drugs, and unfortunately, I’m in a restaurant, so the initial one isn’t true either.

I pull down on the paper towel from its dispenser and rip off a sheet of the brown paper to dry my hands. The restroom door swings open, and the air instantly changes. I turn, and my eyes go wide as I watch Loïc take two purposeful steps toward me. Before I can formulate a word, his hands grasp the sides of my face as his lips crash against mine. A whimper escapes my mouth as my hands frantically fist into his short hair, pulling him closer.

His hands drop from my face and hold my bare thighs beneath the sundress, lifting me off the ground. I circle my legs around his waist as he walks us past three empty stalls to the larger handicapped one at the end. His mouth continues to move against mine as he uses one arm to fumble with the lock on the door behind us.

I pull my lips from his as my back hits the hard wall behind me. “We’re in a restroom.” My voice is ragged as his body presses me into the hard plaster.

“Yep.” Loïc produces a foil wrapper from his pocket and bites it between his teeth.

I’m contemplating protesting because it’s a
restroom
when I hear him unzip his jeans.

I close my eyes, my chest rising and falling with labored movements. There’s a rip of foil and some movement before Loïc’s lips are on my neck—kissing, biting, sucking.

I’m about to be fucked against the wall in a dirty restroom, and oddly enough, I can’t wait.

“You make me crazy, London,” he whispers against my lips. “I can barely control myself with you. I want to be inside you all…of…the…fucking…time,” he says between kisses.

Before I can respond, he pulls my thong to the side and enters me in one swift movement. I groan with the immense pleasure coursing through my entire body. Loïc kisses me hard, his tongue licking greedily, mimicking the movements of his body below.

I’ve never experienced a high like I do when I’m with Loïc. Everything about him—from his kisses to the way he touches me to the desperation in which he moves inside me, all of it—is so addictive. I need it. I need him. He’s a drug I can’t resist, and I would never want to.

This entire experience—the forceful way in which my back moves up and down against the wall, Loïc’s urgent thrusts, our breaths, our kisses—creates a utopia of forbidden pleasure that sends me over the edge before I know it’s coming. Loïc catches my cries in his mouth as he pumps faster and harder. He forcefully pushes in one last time as his body shudders against mine. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close as we both come down from our releases.

We stand this way for many heartbeats. The restroom is silent, save for our heavy breaths. After a beat, Loïc steps back, pulling me away from the wall. He pulls out of me, and I drop my feet to the floor. He disposes of the condom and buttons his jeans up. I take a moment to situate my clothing, and then we stand, facing each other.

His impossible blues gaze down at me with an expression of wonder. He lifts his hands to my face and runs his thumbs across my cheeks. “You are so amazing.” He gives me a sweet kiss before resting his forehead against mine. “Well, I feel better. How about you?”

I giggle, my hands splayed across his T-shirt-clad chest. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good.”

He moves his head back, assesses me again, and shakes it with a smile.

“I’ve never done that before,” I admit.

“Been fucked up against the wall in a Mexican restaurant?” he questions with a smirk.

“Or any restaurant,” I answer.

“Then, that’s another first.”

“Have you?” I question.

“Nope. Never in a Mexican restaurant.”

“What about a restroom in any establishment?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“I plead the fifth.”

“What?” I screech. “You’re, like, a legit whore, Loïc.”

Loïc laughs, and I hate that I can’t help but smile when he does. He’s so damn adorable when he’s happy.

He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Babe, I’ve never experienced anything remotely close to the way I feel when I’m with you. You hold every first that matters because you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted more with.”

My heart is racing in my chest because he just called me
babe
, and he wants
more
, which I knew, but hearing him say it again is incredible. He’s never used a pet name with me before, and I’m so happy that I want to break into song, like a princess in a Disney movie, but I won’t. That’d be weird. Instead, I throw my arms around him and hug him tight. My face bears a huge smile as I snuggle into his chest.

“Should we go back?” he asks after a minute.

“Yeah, I suppose.” I step back, releasing my hold. “Do you think they’re going to know?”

“Probably. Does it matter?” He smirks.

“No, I guess not,” I answer as Loïc opens the stall door. “I mean, to a whore like yourself who is no stranger to restroom fucking, I’m sure it really doesn’t matter.”

“If being a whore means I get to fuck you in other restrooms down the line, then I’ll proudly wear that title,” Loïc responds with a sly grin.

“You know, you can be cocky sometimes. It’s kind of a flaw.” I accusingly squint up toward him.

“Oh, I think you like that about me,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Do I?” I huff in mock annoyance. “How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “I can tell.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

We exit the restroom, hand in hand, and come face-to-face with an elderly woman who is about to enter. She looks startled when she sees us.

“The men’s room is out of order,” Loïc says to the woman. He shrugs apologetically as we pass.

When the woman is inside the restroom, we both start laughing, and we are still smiling when we get back to the table.

“Did you get it all out?” Paige questions me as I sit in my chair beside her.

“Get what out?”

“Oh, I don’t know…the fifteen-minute-long pee that you and Loïc both apparently had.”

“No worries, Paige. We’re good,” Loïc answers for me as he shoots me a wink.

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Paige gives Loïc a knowing smile.

“Excuse me, Paige, but our restroom needs are not your concern,” I say with a grin.

“Well, birds of a feather will flock together.” She shrugs.

“Um…sure,” I respond hesitantly.

“You guys want to order any dessert?” Paige asks us.

I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“I’m sure you are,” Cooper chimes in.

I look to him, wide-eyed, before the four of us start to laugh.

This entire ordeal should be mortifying, but all I can manage to feel in this moment is pride because the handsome man across from me is mine—for all intents and purposes, at least.
In every way that matters.

Loïc

“Slowly, I’m changing into the man I want to be—one who can love London, truly love her, the way she deserves.”

— Loïc Berkeley

It’s been a month since I finally decided to stop running from this connection I have with London. We haven’t said the words out loud—perhaps because of my issues—but whether or not we verbally acknowledge it, I have a girlfriend.

Another first
.

I guess for London and me,
No more running
, is equivalent to,
So, this means we’re exclusive
. At least if I’m going to change into this person I barely recognize—this happy, open, loving sap—I can do it unconventionally and hold on to some of my autonomy.

The past month has been extremely difficult—at least for me. I’ve tried to keep the darkness away from London as I figure out my new normal. I text and call when I say I will, and I show up for our dates. And, at least as far as she can tell, I’ve stopped freaking out.

But nighttime—when my dreams come and the internal battles rage more than I would like—is hard. I’m a survivor. My body knows how to protect itself. It’s instinctual.

This thing I have with London, although amazing, is going against everything that I am, that I’ve been forced to make myself be.

I know. I’m pathetic. I want to kick my own ass.

Poor Loïc has to date the girl of his dreams. It must be rough.

Logically, I know that London is the clear, sane choice. I wish I had control over my dreams—or more often than not, nightmares. It would be nice to shut out all my insecurities and self-defenses. If I were able, I would ignore them and solely focus on London and how
right
the world is when we’re together.

Essentially, I’m reprogramming my entire being into the person I want to be. The mind is a powerful force. My thoughts, my brain, have saved me throughout my entire life. In doing so, I was made into this person who put up walls to protect himself from loss, someone who didn’t trust, didn’t take chances, and rarely loved. I know I can change. I am changing. It just takes time.