Wild Sexy Love Read online

“You sound happy.”

  She laughed. “Delirious.”

  “Well, what’s going on?”

  “Oh, nothing! Just having the best vacation of my life. We’re staying for one more week. Colin has some stuff to manage in the London office, but I’m enjoying myself.”

  I felt like crying. “I’m glad. I miss you though.”

  “I miss you too, but I know Jason is taking good care of you in my absence.” She laughed.

  I was quiet.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “Everything’s fine. When will you be back?”

  There was a pause on her side. “Definitely before next weekend. There’s the book launch, remember?”

  “Yeah.” Some of Amy’s photography was being featured in a coffee table book along with works of some accomplished photographers. It was a career changer, and she was over the moon about it. “I’m looking forward to that.”

  “Daphne,” Amy said softly. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” I forced a smile into my voice. “I might be getting promoted at work.”

  The distraction worked, and we spent the rest of the call talking about my possible promotion.

  After I ended the call, I went to my voice messages and started to play my old ones from Jason. I was fast becoming addicted to listening to his voice telling me he loved me. It was dangerous, especially since I had no idea what was going on between us.

  I called his number, and my call went straight to voicemail.

  I called his office, and after a few rings, someone picked up.

  “Jason Wild’s office.”

  “Hello.” I paused. I’d never had to call him through his office before. “This is Daphne Bird calling to speak with Jason.”

  “May I ask what your call is regarding?”

  “It’s a personal matter.”

  “Is he expecting your call?”

  “No.”

  “One moment please.”

  There was a long pause, and then, “I’m sorry, but Mr. Wild is busy at the moment. You can leave your number and perhaps he’ll call you back when he’s less busy.”

  I closed my eyes as a painful breath escaped me. “No,” I said. “There’s no need.”

  I walked home, the key to Jason’s apartment burning a hole in my bag. I wanted to scream at him and demand he tell me what was going on, but I resisted the urge to go to him.

  For one day…and then one more.

  By Saturday, I couldn’t take it anymore. My heart was breaking, and it felt like all my cells were in a constant state of panicked motion, hurtling and crashing against each other and leaving me almost too weak to function. I pulled on tights and a long sweater then slipped my feet into walking shoes. I planned to walk until I was exhausted, but at the door, I turned back and took Jason’s key out of my purse.

  I walked all the way, barely noticing the early morning quiet around me. I passed a few joggers, and someone barely missed bumping into me with his plastic cups of coffee. I apologized and kept moving.

  In the lobby of Jason’s building, it was Vince behind the desk. He smiled and inclined his head, and I waved. In the elevator, I had to fight memories—Jason’s kisses, his teasing.

  What the fuck was happening?

  I let myself into the apartment. I wasn’t sure I’d find him, but I knew I wanted to confront him, to make him explain, at least—and if he didn’t, I’d walk away and find something to occupy myself with until he was ready to let me know what was going on. I was sick of hanging in limbo.

  He wasn’t in the living room, kitchen, or den. I made my way to the bedroom, and he wasn’t there either, but his bed had been slept in. I was about to go to the study, but something drew me into the room. I walked past the bed, trying not to think of all the nights I’d spent there with him. I moved across the room and opened the door to the walk-in closet.

  Jason was standing in front of a row of my clothes. He drew his fingers along the sleeves of a dress I’d worn once when we went out for dinner, and I heard him sigh.

  I took a step inside the room, and he turned to face me. He frowned and blinked, as if he wasn’t quite sure I was really standing there.

  His hand dropped from the garment. “What are you doing here?” His voice was careful and even.

  I stared at him, unable to believe the words he was saying to me. “Why are you avoiding me?” I cried, so frustrated I could barely keep myself from screaming.

  He walked to the other side of the closet. He was wearing pants, but his chest was bare. I watched him pick up a soft gray t-shirt. He didn’t pull it on. He just stood there, his back to me.

  I stared at the wall of solid muscle, and it was like a physical demonstration of the past week. I was beating against a solid wall while he faced away from me, unwilling to let me in.

  “You’re going to have to explain,” I said evenly, trying not to cry. “You’re going to have to tell me something.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shouted. I went over to him and shoved at his back.

  He turned to face me but still said nothing.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?” I was pleading now, but I didn’t care. I was ready to beg.

  He caught my hands and held them away from him. “You should go home,” he said.

  “Home? Where, Jason?” I cried. “Just a few days ago, you were asking me to move in here with you. This fucking closet is full of my clothes, for God’s sake.”

  “I’ll have them sent over.”

  A scream built in my throat and I wrenched my hands from his grip. “What did you say?” His silence enraged me further, and I shoved his chest again, my eyes blurry with tears. “What did you say?” My voice broke on the words. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through lungs that felt scorched with pain. “You’re ruining me,” I whispered. “You’re tearing me apart.”

  His eyes closed. “Daphne, I can’t…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  I placed my hands on his chest. Under my palms, his skin felt warm and familiar. I could swear I felt him tremble. “Please tell me what this is about.”

  He took hold of my wrists and eased my hands away from his chest.

  “You can’t bear for me to touch you anymore?” I asked, tears in my eyes.

  He was still holding my wrists, seeming almost reluctant to let them go. I edged my body as close to him as I could get.

  “Jason,” I begged. “Talk to me.”

  Instead, he kissed me. It was totally unexpected. One minute his eyes were on my face, and in the next he’d taken my lips in a hot, hungry kiss.

  I burst into flames, the rush of sensations making me helpless in his arms. He released my wrists, and one hand cupped the back of my head, bringing my mouth closer to his, while the other splayed across my lower back, pressing our hips together.

  I moaned into his mouth, weak from wanting him. I’d missed his touch. I’d missed drowning in his kisses. My eyes burned, and my hands moved feverishly across his shoulders and back. He was trembling, and so was I.

  He released my lips and touched his forehead to mine. His body shook as he exhaled. “Daphne,” he whispered. “God! This is so hard.”

  I touched my lips to his, kissing him again. I didn’t want him to stop, to think, to consider whatever had led him to distance himself from me. I wanted him to be mine again.

  I stroked his tongue with mine, tasting his mouth, sucking on his lips. I touched him everywhere I could. He groaned and lifted me off my feet, carrying me out of the closet and into the bedroom.

  He set me down on the bed—not very gently—then tore off my tights and panties, tossing them aside before lowering his head to kiss the lips of my sex.

  I gasped at the pleasure, closing my eyes as he spread my legs and his tongue slipped down to stroke my clit. My whole body felt the pulse of pleasure, and when he drew his lips from my clit to the entrance of my sex and pushed
his tongue inside me, I screamed.

  All the pent-up frustration of the past week combined with the pleasure drove me a little mad. I felt wild. My fingers dug into his hair, and I pulled hard. He gripped my thighs and continued the assault with his lips and tongue until I was sobbing, my body vibrating, begging him for release.

  I sighed in gratitude when he hovered over me, undoing his trousers and freeing his cock. Tears filled my eyes when he thrust into me, filling me and making me come with just a few sweet strokes. He fucked me as my body shook and pulsed, each thrust building another wave of sensation inside me.

  He pushed my sweater up, taking my bra with it and freeing my breasts. As he covered one aching nipple with his lips, I wrapped my legs around his waist and surrendered my body to him, unwilling to think of his rejection, unwilling to consider the shame that would come when…if he asked me to leave again.

  His arms tightened around me, imprisoning me in his embrace as he drove me toward another climax. I cried out his name, and he whispered mine, shuddering as he came in a warm rush inside me.

  I don’t know how long he held me, but it wasn’t long enough. His arms left my sides, and he pulled out of me, rolling over to hold me close to him for another few precious moments.

  Then he got up, leaving me lying on the bed, and without a word, he went in the direction of the bathroom.

  I lay still. I heard water running, and then it stopped. I got up. I was still wearing my sweater, and I adjusted my bra, which, beneath the wool, was pushed somewhere close to my neck. The sweater fell to my upper thighs, giving me some semblance of modesty as I went to find Jason.

  He was in the closet. He’d pulled on a long-sleeved t-shirt and smoothed his hair. He looked nothing like the person who’d just made love to me. I stood at the door, watching him as he slipped on a silver watch.

  “Are you going to ask me to leave again?”

  His breath hitched. “No. I’m leaving.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d asked all the questions, had begged him to talk to me, and it was as if I’d gone full circle and ended up in the same spot.

  I spent a long time just looking at him, taking in his perfection: his beautifully sculpted face, the lips that whispered promises to me, his magnificent body that gave me so much pleasure. Now, it felt like they belonged to a stranger.

  I went back into the bedroom and pulled on the rest of my clothes. I slammed the door behind me, and before I left his apartment, I set his key down on a table in the foyer.

  There was no need to keep pretending.

  Chapter Eight

  Amy returned the day before her book launch, and I somehow managed to keep from discussing Jason at all. She was so excited and giddy with happiness that it was easy to distract her with questions about her trip and Colin’s family.

  The next day, I went straight to the event from work, and I arrived at the venue a few minutes late. It was an event hall that occupied the ground floor of a commercial building. There was a separate entrance leading to a thickly carpeted lobby decorated with huge framed paintings on the paneled walls.

  Inside the hall, I found Colin and Amy already seated at a table for six. Jason’s friend Carter Hearst was also at the table, along with another man I didn’t recognize. There was no Jason, however. Amy had mentioned that he was out of the country, and I hadn’t let on that I didn’t know anything about his movements anymore.

  “You’ve met Carter?” Amy asked after giving me a welcome hug.

  “I remember.” I smiled at him. “How’s Amber?”

  “She’s fine,” he said with a boyish grin. “It’s good to see you again. I’ll tell her you said hey.”

  The other guy was from Colin’s office. He introduced himself and spent the evening trying to draw me into conversation.

  “This is really impressive,” I told Amy after reading the profiles of some of the other photographers included in the book. “You’re like…walking among legends.”

  “She’s a legend herself,” Colin pronounced, pride in his eyes. “Oh, and congrats on the promotion Daph. Amy told me.”

  I tried to look enthused. “Thanks.”

  Though the launch was for a photography book, there were performances by a choral group, a violinist, and a troupe of dancers who put on an ethereal performance that left us all applauding.

  I tried to enjoy myself, but Jason was never far from my thoughts. There had been a part of my mind that’d hoped maybe he’d be there because of how important his sister’s work was to him.

  I’ll never walk away from you.

  And yet he had, with no explanation.

  I drank the champagne that was being served very generously. I saw Colin lean toward Amy and whisper something to her. She smiled as they exchanged a quick kiss, and I felt a tiny sliver of jealousy cut through me.

  How was it possible that their journey was turning out so differently from Jason’s and mine? Like a slightly less tragic version of Anna Karenina.

  Was there some moral lesson I wasn’t learning?

  Was there some way in which our love had been a wrong kind of love?

  Was there something I’d done wrong?

  I emptied the glass of champagne in front of me and looked around for a waiter so I could get some more.

  And then I saw Jason.

  He stood at the edge of the room, his eyes on me. Our eyes locked for a moment then he straightened and strode toward our table.

  Eyes turned to look at him as he walked, like he was a whirlwind of raw beauty, sexiness, and devastating confidence. His dark jacket was flawlessly cut and fit perfectly. His dark hair laid back in soft waves, making my fingers ache with the memory of contact. He certainly didn’t appear to be feeling the misery I was experiencing. He looked handsome and dynamic, and I almost couldn’t bear to look at him.

  He reached our table and went straight to Amy, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She looked around, shocked to see him.

  “Jason!” She gave me an accusing look. “You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

  His eyes met mine again, dark and searching, and my gaze dropped to my empty glass. Thankfully the waiter appeared, and I helped myself to more champagne.

  I listened with half an ear as he talked with everyone else, everyone but me. He said something to a passing waiter, and a moment later, someone brought another chair and set it next to me.

  He sat beside me, and all my senses tuned to him. My eyes stung, and I blinked frantically, trying to keep the tears from falling. Someone climbed onto the stage and started to give a speech, and I concentrated on following each word like my life depended on it.

  At first, he didn’t say anything. I saw Amy watching us with a puzzled glance so I smiled at her, and she looked away, reassured.

  I could smell the light spicy scent of Jason’s cologne, and it took me back to places I couldn’t bear to remember, not right then, not while he was still pushing me away.

  “How are you?”

  The gentle words sent a bolt of anger to my brain. How dare he talk to me like there was nothing wrong, like he hadn’t asked me to leave his apartment—his life.

  “How do you think?” I retorted, keeping my voice low. I drained my glass and started looking around for another waiter.

  “How many of those have you had?” Jason asked.

  “Fuck you,” I muttered.

  On the stage, the speech ended, and there was light applause.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, my voice muffled by the applause. “I heard you weren’t in the country.”

  “I just returned.”

  “You didn’t have to come,” I said. “You knew I’d be here.”

  Somewhere inside, I hoped he would tell me he’d come because he wanted to see me. I hoped he would apologize for the past few weeks, but his next words destroyed any hope I felt.

  “You should tell Amy,” he said quietly.

  “Tell her what?” I choked. “That we’re over?”

&n
bsp; He didn’t respond, and I felt a painful thickening in my throat.

  “You told me you…” I searched his face and found nothing, just an inscrutable expression. You told me you loved me. I swallowed the words. “Why don’t you tell her yourself,” I hissed, snatching my purse from the table. I got up and forced a smile. “I’ll be right back,” I said in the general direction of everyone else.

  I had no intention of returning to the table. I walked out of the restaurant, and in the lobby, I whipped out my phone to request a ride.

  A sixth sense told me Jason had followed me. I turned around, and sure enough, he had just stepped into the sparse lobby. I faced him, waiting as he closed the distance between us.

  “You don’t have to leave because of me,” he said softly.

  I pulled in a painful breath. I was tired. I was tired of being without him. I was tired of being ignored. I couldn’t allow myself to believe we were over, to believe he didn’t care anymore. Memories of him…of us flashed through my mind—every loving word he’d ever whispered to me, every promise. Whatever the reason he was pushing me away, I couldn’t accept that those things were no longer true.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded desperately. Even my worst fears didn’t come close to the actual torture of watching him set up barriers between us that I couldn’t cross. “Can’t you see that you’re breaking my heart?”

  He pulled in a breath, and when he took me in his arms, I didn’t resist. I melted into his warmth, my hope for an explanation much stronger than any anger I felt toward him for leaving me out in the cold.

  “Please, talk to me,” I whispered.

  He stroked my hair then he held my gaze. I waited for him to say something, almost ashamed of how eager I was. His hand left my hair, but he kept his eyes on mine.

  “There’s nothing to say,” he said, his voice strangely cold and brutal. “I thought I was in love with you, but I was wrong.”

  The words rang in my head like a thunderclap, and my legs almost gave way. I didn’t want to believe I’d just heard that right. I stared at his face and took a step back, almost losing my balance.

  He reached out to steady me, but I pushed his hands away. Somehow, I managed to walk to the exit. I stepped outside to the sidewalk, unsure what I was going to do. The ride app was still open on my phone, and I stared at the screen uncomprehendingly. I started to walk then stopped, not even sure of the direction I was going.