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Chapter 14

I hardly slept all night. I tossed and turned, drifting in and out of consciousness. The frequent nurse visits to check on Cary also woke me. His brain scans and lab reports were looking good and there was nothing absolutely definitive to worry about, but I hadn’t been there for him when he’d first gotten hurt. I felt like I needed to be there for him now, sleep or no sleep.

Just before six, I gave up and got out of bed.

Grabbing my tablet and wireless keyboard, I headed down to the cafeteria for coffee. I pulled up a chair at one of the tables and prepared to write a letter to Lauren. In the short amounts of time I’d managed to pin her down the last couple of days, I hadn’t been able to get my thoughts across to her. Writing it all out would have to be the way it got done. Maintaining steady, open communication was the only way we were going to survive as a couple.

I sipped my coffee and began typing, starting with my thanks for the beautiful weekend away and how much it meant to me. I told her how I thought our relationship had taken a massive leap forward during the trip, which only made the week’s backslide harder to bear—

“Camila. What a pleasant surprise!”

Turning my head, I found Dr. Terrence Lucas standing behind me holding a disposable coffee cup like the one I’d filled for myself. He was dressed for work in slacks and tie with a white lab coat. “Hi,” I greeted him, hoping I hid my wariness.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, rounding me.

“Not at all.”

I watched him take the seat beside me, and I refreshed my memory of his appearance. His hair was pure white, without a hint of gray, but his handsome face was unlined. His eyes were an unusual shade of green and they were keen with intelligence. His smile was both reassuring and charming. I suspected he was popular with his patients—and their mothers.

“There has to be some special reason,” he began, “for you to be in the hospital long before visiting hours.”

“My roommate’s here.” I didn’t volunteer any more information, but he guessed.

“So Lauren Jauregui threw her money around and made arrangements for you.” He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “And you’re grateful. But what will it cost you?”

I sat back, offended on Lauren’s behalf that her generosity was reduced to having an ulterior motive. “Why do you two dislike each other so much?”

His eyes lost their softness. “She hurt someone very close to me.”

“Your wife. She told me.” I could tell that startled him. “But that wasn’t the beginning, was it? That was a result.”

“You know what she did, and you’re still with her?” Lucas set his elbows on the table. “She’s doing the same thing to you. You look exhausted and depressed. That’s part of the game to her, you know. She’s an expert at worshipping a woman as if she needs her to breathe. Then suddenly she can’t bear the sight of her.”

The statement was a painfully accurate description of my present reality with Lauren. My pulse quickened.

His gaze slid to my throat, then back to my face. His mouth curved in a mocking, knowing smile. “You’ve experienced what I’m talking about. She’s going to continue to play with you until you rely on her mood to gauge your own. Then she’ll get bored and dump you.”

“What happened between you?” I asked again, knowing that was key.

“Lauren Jauregui is a narcissistic sociopath,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I believe she’s a misogynist. She uses her money to seduce women, then despises them for being shallow enough to find her wealth attractive. She uses sex to control, and you never know what sort of mood you’ll find her in. That’s part of the rush—when you’re always steeling yourself for the worst, you psych yourself up for a surge of relief when she’s at her best.”

“You don’t know her,” I said smoothly, refusing to take the bait. “And neither does your wife.”

“Neither do you.” He sat back and drank his coffee, appearing as unruffled as I tried to be. “No one does. She’s a master manipulator and liar. Don’t underestimate her. She’s a twisted, dangerous woman capable of just about anything.”

“The fact that you won’t explain her grudge against you makes me think you’re at fault.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions. There are some things I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“That’s convenient.”

He sighed. “I’m not your adversary, Camila, and Jauregui doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles. You don’t have to believe me. Frankly, I’m so bitter I wouldn’t believe me if I were in your place. But you’re a beautiful, smart young lady.”

I hadn’t been lately, but it was my responsibility to fix that. Or walk.

“If you take a step back,” he continued, “and look at what she’s doing to you, how you’re feeling about yourself since you’ve been with her, and whether you’re truly fulfilled by your relationship, you’ll come to your own conclusions.”

Something beeped and he pulled his smartphone out of his coat pocket. “Ah, my latest patient has just entered the world.”

He pushed to his feet and looked down at me, setting his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be the one who gets away. I’m glad.”

I watched him walk briskly out of the cafeteria and collapsed into the seat back the moment he disappeared from view, deflating from exhaustion and confusion. My gaze moved to the sleeping screen of my tablet. I didn’t have the energy to finish my letter.

I packed up and went to get ready for Angus’s arrival.

* * *

“You up for Chinese?”

I looked up from the layout of the blueberry coffee ad on my desk into the warm brown eyes of my boss. I realized it was Wednesday, our usual day to go eat with Steven.

For a second, I considered bowing out and eating at my desk because I wanted to make Lauren happy. But just as quickly, I knew I’d resent her if I did. I was still trying to build a new life in New York, which included making friends and having plans that existed outside the life I shared with her.

“Always up for Chinese,” I said. My very first meal with Mark and Steven had been Chinese takeout here in the office, on a night when we’d worked well past closing and Steven had stopped by to feed us.

Mark and I headed out at noon, and I refused to feel guilty about something I enjoyed so much. Steven was waiting for us at the restaurant, seated at a round table with a lacquered lazy Susan in the middle.

“Hey, you.” He greeted me with a big bear hug, then pulled a chair out for me. He studied me as we both sat down. “You look tired.”

I guessed I must really look like shit, since everyone kept telling me that. “It’s been a rough week so far.”

The waitress came by and Steven ordered a dim sum appetizer and the same dishes we’d shared for that first late-evening meal—kung pao chicken and broccoli beef. When we were alone again, Steven said, “I didn’t know your roommate was gay. Did you tell us that?”

“He’s bi, actually.” I realized Steven, or someone he knew, must have seen the same newspaper Cary had showed me. “I don’t think it came up.”

“How’s he feeling?” Mark asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Better. He might be coming home today.” Which was something that had been weighing on me all morning, since Lauren hadn’t called to tell me definitively one way or the other.

“Let us know if you need any help,” Steven said, all traces of levity gone. “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t a hate crime,” I clarified. “I don’t know where the reporter got that. I used to respect journalists. Now, so few of them do their homework, and fewer still can write objectively.”

“I’m sure it’s tough living in the media spotlight.” Steven squeezed my hand on the table. He was a gregarious, playful fellow, but beneath that fun exterior was a solid man with a kind heart. “But then you have to kinda expect it when you’re juggling rock stars and billionaires.”

“Steven,” Mark scolded, frowning.

“Ugh.” My nose wrinkled. “Shawna told you.”

“Of course she did,” Steven said. “Least she can do after not inviting me along to the concert. But don’t worry. She’s not a gossip. She won’t be telling anyone else.”

I nodded, having no anxiety about that. Shawna was good people, but it was still embarrassing having my boss know I’d kissed one person while dating another.

“Not that it would be a bad thing for Jauregui to get a taste of her own medicine,” Steven muttered.

I frowned, confused. Then I caught Mark’s sympathetic gaze.

I realized the gay newspaper wasn’t the only news they’d seen. They must have seen the photos of Lauren and Corinne, too. I felt my face flush with humiliation.

“She’ll get a taste,” I muttered. “If I have to cram it down her throat.”

Steven’s brows shot up, and then he laughed and patted my hand. “Get her, girl.”

* * *

I’d barely returned to my desk when my work phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office, Camila—”

“Why is it so damn difficult for you to follow orders?” Lauren asked harshly.

I just sat there, staring at the collage of photos she’d given me, pictures of us looking connected and in love.

“Camila?”

“What do you want from me, Lauren?” I asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence, then she exhaled. “Cary will be moved to your apartment this afternoon under the supervision of his doctor and a private nurse. He should be there when you get home.”

“Thank you.” Another stretch of quiet filled the line between us, but she didn’t hang up. Finally, I queried, “Are we done?”

The question had a double meaning. I wondered if she caught that or even cared.

“Angus will give you a ride home.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “Good-bye, Lauren.”

I hung up and got back to work.

* * *

I checked on Cary the minute I got home. His bed had been moved aside and propped vertically against the wall to make room for a hospital bed that he could adjust at will. He was asleep when I came in, his nurse sitting in a new recliner and reading an e-book. It was the same nurse I’d seen the first night in the hospital, the pretty and exotic-looking one who had trouble taking her eyes off Lauren.

I wondered when she’d spoken to her—if she’d done it herself or sent someone else to do it—and whether she’d agreed for the money or for Lauren or both.

The fact that I was too tired to care one way or another said a lot about my own disconnection. Maybe there were people out there whose love could survive anything, but mine was fragile. It needed to be nurtured in order to thrive and grow.

I took a long, hot shower, then crawled into bed. I pulled my tablet onto my lap and tried to continue my letter to Lauren. I wanted to express my thoughts and reservations in a mature and cogent way. I wanted to make it easy for her to understand my reactions to some of the things she did and said, so she could see things from my point of view.

In the end, I didn’t have the energy.

I’m not elaborating any more, I wrote instead, because if I keep going, I’ll beg. And if you don’t know me well enough to know that you’re hurting me, a letter isn’t going to fix our problems.

I’m desperate for you. I’m miserable without you. I think about the weekend, and the hours we spent together, and I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do to have you like that again. Instead, you’re spending time with HER, while I’m alone on my fourth night without you.

Even knowing you’ve been with her, I want to crawl on my knees for you and beg for scraps. A touch. A kiss. One tender word. You’ve made me that weak.

I hate myself like this. I hate that I need you this much. I hate that I’m so obsessed with you.

I hate that I love you.

Camila

I attached it to an e-mail with the subject line My thoughts—uncensored and hit send.

* * *

“Don’t be afraid.”

I woke to those three words and utter darkness. The mattress dipped as Lauren sat beside me, leaning over me with her arms bracketing my body and the blankets between us, a cocoon and barrier that allowed my mind to wake without fear. The delicious and unmistakable fragrance of her soap and shampoo mixed with the scent of her skin, soothing me along with her voice.

“Angel.” She took my mouth, her lips slanting over mine.

I touched her chest with my fingers, feeling bare skin. She groaned and stood, bending over me so her mouth stayed connected to mine while she yanked the blankets off and away.

Then she was settling over me, her body nude and hot to the touch. Her ardent mouth moved down my throat, her hands pushing up my camisole so she could get to my breasts. Her lips surrounded my nipple and she suckled, her weight supported by one forearm on the mattress, her other hand pushing between my legs.

She cupped my sex, her fingertip gliding over the satin along the seam of my cleft. Her tongue flickered over my nipple, making it hard and tight, her teeth sinking lightly into the taut flesh.

“Lauren!” Tears slid in rivulets down my temples, the protective numbness I’d felt earlier falling away, leaving me exposed. I’d been withering without her, the world around me losing its vibrancy, my body hurting from its separation from hers. Having her with me . . . touching me . . . was like rain in a drought. My soul unfurled for her, opening wide to soak her in.

I loved her so much.

Her hair tickled my skin as her open mouth slid over my cleavage, her chest expanding as she breathed me in, nuzzling and wallowing in my scent. She captured the tip of my other breast with hard, deep suction. The pleasure shot through me, echoing in the clenching of my sex against her teasing fingertip.

She moved down my torso, licking and nibbling a path across my stomach, the breadth of her shoulders forcing my legs wider until her hot breath gusted over my slick cleft. Her nose pressed against the wet satin, stroking me. She inhaled with a groan.

“Camila. I’ve been starved for you.”

With impatient fingers, Lauren shoved the crotch of my panties aside and her mouth was on me. She held me open with her thumbs, her tongue lashing over my throbbing clit. My back arched with a cry, all my senses painfully acute without the benefit of sight. Tilting her head, she thrust into the quivering opening of my sex, fucking rhythmically, teasing me with shallow plunges.

“Oh God!” I writhed with the pleasure, my core clenching and releasing with the first tingles of orgasm.

I came in a violent rush, sweat misting my skin, my lungs burning as I fought for breath. Her lips were around my trembling opening, sucking, her tongue delving. She was eating me with an intensity I was helpless against. The flesh between my legs was so swollen and sensitive, so vulnerable to her ravenous hunger. I was climaxing again within moments, my nails scouring the sheets.

My eyes were opened and blinded by darkness when she ripped my underwear off me and crawled over me. I felt the wide crest of her cock notch into my cleft, and then she lunged, driving deep into me with an animalistic growl. I cried out, shocked by her aggression, turned on by it.

Lauren reared up, resting back on her heels, my thighs splayed over hers. She gripped my hips, elevating them, tilting me to the angle she wanted. She rolled her hips, stirring her cock inside me, pulling me onto her until I gasped in pain at how deep she was. The lips of my sex clung to the very base of her penis, spread wide to encompass the thick root. I had all of her, every inch, crammed too full and loving it. I’d been empty for days, so lonely I ached.

She groaned my name and came, spurting hot and thick, the creamy heat spreading upward along her length because there was no room inside me. She shuddered violently, dripping sweat onto my skin, flooding me. “For you, Camila,” she gasped. “Every drop.”

Pulling out abruptly, she flipped me over onto my belly and yanked my hips up. I gripped my headboard, my damp face pressed into my pillow. I waited for her to push into me and shivered when I felt her breath against my buttocks. Then I jerked violently at the feel of her licking along the seam. She rimmed me with the tip of her tongue, stimulating the puckered opening to my rear.

A broken sound escaped me. I don’t do anal play, Camila.

The tight ring of muscle flexed as I remembered her words, helplessly responding to the delicate flutters. There was nothing in our bed but us. Nothing could touch us when we were touching each other.

Lauren squeezed both of my cheeks in her hands, grounding me in the moment. I was open and parted for her in every way, completely exposed to her lush dark kiss.

“Oh!” I tensed all over. Her tongue was inside me, thrusting. My entire body began to quake from the feeling, my toes curling, my lungs heaving as she possessed me without shame or reservation. “Ah . . . God.”

I lifted into her mouth, giving myself to her. The affinity between us was brutal and raw, nearly unbearable. I felt seared by her desire, my skin feverish, my chest shaking with sobs I couldn’t hold back.

She reached beneath me, pressed the flat of her fingers against my aching clit and rubbing, massaging. Her tongue was driving me insane. The orgasm brewing inside me was spurred by the knowledge that there were no longer any boundaries for her with my body. She would do anything she desired—possess it, use it, pleasure it. Burying my face in my pillow, I screamed as I came, the ecstasy so vicious my legs gave out and I melted into the mattress.

Lauren slid over my back, her knee pushing my legs wide, her perspiration-slick body blanketing mine. She mounted me, pushing her cock inside me, her fingers linking with mine and pinning my hands to the bed. I was soaked with her and she rocked against me, sliding in and out.

“I’m desperate for you,” she said hoarsely. “I’m miserable without you.”

I tensed. “Don’t mock me.”

“I need you as much baby.” She nuzzled into my hair, fucking me slow and easy. “I’m just as obsessed. Why can’t you trust me?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears leaking out. “I don’t understand you. You’re tearing me apart.”

She turned her head and her teeth sank into the top of my shoulder. A pained growl rumbled through her chest and I felt her coming, her cock jerking as it pumped me full of scorching semen.

Her jaw relaxed, releasing me. She panted, her hips still churning. “Your letter gutted me.”

“You won’t talk to me . . . you won’t listen . . .”

“I can’t.” She groaned, her arms tightening around mine so that I was completely at her mercy. “I just . . . It has to be this way.”

“I can’t live like this, Lauren.”

“I’m hurting, too, Camila. It’s killing me, too. Can’t you see that?”

“No.” I cried, my pillow growing wet beneath my cheek.

“Then stop overthinking and feel it! Feel me.”

The night passed in a blur. I punished her with greedy hands and teeth, my nails raking over sweat-slick skin and muscle until she hissed in pleasured pain.

Her lust was frantic and insatiable, her need tinged with a desperation that frightened me because it felt hopeless. It felt like good-bye.

“Need your love,” she whispered against my skin. “Need you.”

She touched me everywhere. She was constantly inside me, with her cock or her fingers or her tongue.

My nipples burned, made raw by her sucking. My sex throbbed and felt bruised from her wild, hard drives. My skin was chafed from the stubble that prickled over her pelvis. My jaw ached from sucking her thick cock. My last memory was of her spooned behind me, her arm banded around my waist as she filled me from behind, both of us sore and exhausted and unable to stop.

“Don’t let go,” I begged, after I’d sworn I wouldn’t.

When I woke to my alarm, she was gone.

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