Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (23 page)
Read Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) Online
Authors: Lea Griffith
It was nasty, the intensity of the ache that seized her insides. She sat on the floor, right where she’d been standing, and pulled her knees to her chest. The tears streamed down her face and the ribbons of her pain and anger slowly tied themselves in knots and dissipated.
He may be back, but come tomorrow, Sophie would be gone.
* * * *
Hours later, Sophie woke to something infinitely soft trailing over her skin. She shuddered and reached for the covers, unwilling to wake from her dreams.
The covers weren’t within reach and awareness bit into her sleep, snagged her, and rushed her headlong into wakefulness. She wiped a hand across her eyes, wondering if it was possible to dream something to life.
“I made a promise, love, and I intend to keep it,” Ryan whispered as he placed kisses along her collarbone. Low and husky, his voice pushed deep inside her as it always had.
She reached for anger, found it a reluctant emotion, and instead felt her heart pound in anticipation. His scent reached her, and she pulled it in deep, thrilling at the desire that curled in her belly.
She’d given up on fighting him in her dreams. That he was here seemed symbolic in some way. He was a sneaky man, and stubborn apparently, but he was here
now
and she’d take what she could get while she could get it. He’d never love her as she needed, but for this short time before she left, she’d give over to the demands of her body.
He settled on top of her, careful of crushing her with his weight. She opened her arms, wrapped them around his neck, and sighed.
No foreplay was needed; she had only to hear his voice, and her body readied itself. He entered her slowly and she accepted him with a familiar ease. Tension snaked between them, and they both trembled when he was seated deep within her.
“Love, Sophie. This is my love. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said against her lips.
Then he pulled out and rushed back in and her mind was transported to ecstasy. How long he used his body to show her what he meant, she didn’t know. The time could have been measured by their sighs and moans, but eventually their hearts quieted. And when light trickled beneath the blinds, she got up and left him there, sleeping.
She couldn’t do this again. It was just too painful.
Chapter 19
Desperation grabbed him by the throat when he woke to an empty bed. It was late in the morning, and how the hell had she sneaked out and he’d not known? The bottom line was it didn’t matter—he had to get to her.
The sounds of someone moving around in the house drew his attention. He threw on his boxers and walked to the living room. Several men were carrying out her furniture and boxes, loading them into a big truck parked at the street.
“Is the owner still here?” he asked them.
The men looked at each other and then at him. “Nope. She left about two hours ago,” one of them replied.
He hurried back to the bedroom, found his phone, and hit speed dial. “Hayden,” he said when his friend picked up.
“Yeah?”
“You helped fuck it up, now you can help fix it. I’m betting she’s headed out on a flight somewhere. Find out where right goddamn now,” Ryan bit out into the phone and disconnected.
He threw on his clothes and drove like a bat out of hell to his house. He’d showered and changed, was pacing back and forth waiting for word from Hayden. This would determine what his next move should be. The phone rang and he drew in a deep breath. He had to be where she was
before
she was. He didn’t question how he knew this; he just did.
Then again, he might’ve fucked it up so bad he’d never be able to fix it. He didn’t deserve her.
“Talk to me, Hayden.”
“She’s on a one thirty to San Diego. She got a job with a small start-up security firm that Joseph Beach has out there. Remember Beach? I think we worked with him a few times in Panama. Anyway, I’ve got the jet ready at Charlie Brown Airport, and you have a car outside waiting,” Hayden said.
Ryan peered out the front window. The car was out there.
“Okay.” The constriction in his chest eased infinitesimally. “I want Beach’s number and there’s something else I need you to do…”
* * * *
The flight had been uneventful, but Sophie was dragging as she pulled her carry-on from the overhead compartment.
“Thank you for flying Delta,” the stewardess called out as she disembarked.
She squinted against the light streaming in from the cracks in the loading bridge. Her sunglasses had been packed in her suitcase, and she mentally kicked herself. Not her brightest move. California was pretty damn sunny.
She walked up the plane bridge and entered the gate.
What. The. Hell
. A lot of people were lined up at the gate, but it was the flowers that held her attention.
Hundreds, maybe thousands, of roses, hyacinths, and jonquils in every different color covered every surface. Floors, chairs, counters, nothing was off-limits. And standing in the middle of the profusion was Ryan Locke. She closed her eyes, certain she was imagining things.
She opened them. Nope, he was still there. He seemed oblivious to the people behind him, his gaze solidly focused on her. She tightened her hold on the carry-on and began walking … right past him, the flowers, and all the other people.
She’d made it about thirty feet before he called out.
“Sophie.” Just her name, nothing more, but it stopped her.
She hung her head, sighed, and resumed walking.
“Sophie Hanson!” Stronger now, that familiar demand echoing in the tones of his voice.
She stopped again but didn’t turn.
“I love you, Sophie Hanson. And I’m not giving up,” he said loudly.
Sophie dropped the carry-on and turned to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head. “You already gave up. When you decided not to trust me, you gave up then, Ryan Locke.”
He shook his head, denial in the lines of his face and body. “No, I’ve never given up. I messed up, but never did I give up.” He walked toward her, eyes bright, expression desperate. “And I won’t. I’m willing to work on the worst parts of me, Sophie, but I can only do that with you.”
He stopped in front of her, close enough that his scent and heat seeped into her. She took a deep breath and eyed him. “You’ve got serious issues, Mr. Locke. I can’t handle the pain you dish out.” She swallowed, fought back tears. “You
devastated
me.”
“I can’t go back and undo it, but I can work to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“We’ve had this discussion. I love you too much for you to never hurt me. It’s the destruction you bring that I can’t live with,” she whispered.
All around them, people had stopped moving and begun to stare.
He shook his head again. “I’m not giving up,” he repeated. She swallowed, certain she was about to choke on the emotion in his eyes.
Someone catcalled and yelled out, “Aw, give him a chance, lady!”
Sophie glanced over his shoulder, the flowers drawing her gaze. She remembered what he’d told her about his mother, and the ice around her heart cracked a tiny bit.
She peered at him, and his face wavered through her tears. “You really like flowers, don’t you?”
He barked out a laugh, but his eyes were bleak. He brought one hand from behind his back, and in his palm was a single dandelion flower. “For some reason, they make me think of you. But if you don’t like them, I’ll never send you another one.”
He’d not given up. He’d come after her. And he’d come bearing flowers. Dare she trust him this time? Give him another chance? What if she didn’t and threw away the very best thing? Then again, what if she did and bought herself a lifetime of joy and love?
That there was a decision to be made at all, made her decision for her.
She reached for the dandelion, and his hand grabbed hers, crushing the delicate petals between their palms. She gazed up at him and let everything she felt shine in her eyes. “You hurt me,” she whispered again, though it was loud in the sudden absolute silence of the terminal. “Don’t do it again.”
He reached up with his other hand and ran a finger down her cheek. “If you give me another chance, I promise to
try
to never hurt you again. But I love you too much, and there’s bound to be some hurt at some point over the next fifty or sixty years.”
“Give him another chance. He spent a fortune on those roses, girlie,” a lady called out.
She nodded. He probably had spent a small fortune on them, but it was the tiny flower between their hands that cost him the most. More valuable than a fistful of roses, it signified something precious and infinitely beautiful. Love.
Someone clapped. Before long, everyone was clapping and cheering. He wrapped her in his arms. She wrapped hers around him and hung on, sobs ripping through her body.
“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he said in a hoarse voice as he squeezed her so hard she squealed.
She caught her breath. “I love you, too.”
“Please come home with me,” he whispered on her lips.
“But I—”
He cut her off with a finger over her mouth. “You’ve got to come back to work. I’ve got deals to be written, and I think Gigi is poisoning my coffee. Emma has threatened to quit because I’m such a bear all the time, and even Hayden, with his surly ass, is demanding your return.”
“I took a job here. I leased an apartment—” She sighed as he replaced his finger with his mouth and then licked along the seam of her lips.
“Yeah, about that,” he said cautiously.
“You didn’t!” She gasped.
“I did. I know the owner of the security start-up that hired you, and I told him he couldn’t have my favorite employee. Then I called and paid out your lease.” He waggled his eyebrows and she nearly choked on her laughter as tears continued to stream down her face.
She sobered as his blue eyes lit up. “There are things we need to clear up, Ryan. There can’t be ambiguity between us,” she informed him.
“I know, but for now, let me kiss you, and we’ll seal this deal, yeah?”
Were those tears in his eyes? Yeah, they were. Her heart slid back into place. She’d made the right decision. She leaned up, eager for the contact between them. “Yeah, let’s do.”
Then he took her mouth while the cheers of their audience and the smell of flowers rang in the air.
The End
Publisher’s Note
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About Lea Griffith
Lea Griffith began sneaking to read her mother’s romance novels at a young age. She cut her teeth on the greats: McNaught, Woodiwiss, and Garwood. She still consumes every romance book she can put her hands on, but now she writes her own.
Lea lives in rural Georgia with her husband, three teenage daughters, two dogs, a cat, and a Betta fish named Coddy George. When not working at the EDJ, she’s usually at her keyboard writing. She loves romance and nothing is off-limits when it comes to her muse. www.leagriffith.com
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