Goodbye Secrets (The Lost & Found Series book #2) (45 page)

“I’m leaving in two days.” I don’t know why I just said that. He winces as if I’ve verbally slapped him. His hands almost crush my face.

“Why do you like to hurt me?” he asks through his teeth.

“No. No, I didn’t mean to, baby, I’m sorry.”

He muffles my pleading with a harsh kiss, then pushes me back and walks away.

“Two songs, Becca. ‘Hold Me Now’ by Thompson Twins and ‘Time After Time’ by Cyndi Lauper.” With that, he and Elise leave—slamming the door behind them. I sit on my bed and stare at the plush gold carpeting. I’m not aware the door has opened again until Grayson is in front of me. I look up and am surprised to feel the gentle caress of his knuckles on my cheek.

“I don’t know what to say, Grayson.” I shake my head. Why can’t I pull it together?

“Don’t say anything then, sweetheart. I’m doing my best to get through the next two days. I suggest you do the same. It will get easier in two days. I promise, Becca.” He kneels in front of me.

“Have you retired your purple pants?” I try to make light of the situation.

“No, darling, I’m just keeping them in check. I know your heart is in a complicated place right now. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes as best as I can. This is not exactly how I pictured our first Christmas together, but we’re together and I’m hoping it stays that way.” His eyelids are going at Morse-code speed.

“I don’t deserve either one of you.” I place my head in my hands and fall to pieces. Seems like that’s the only thing I know how to do right anymore.

“Please stop, sweetheart. Let’s just take a deep breath and enjoy our family for Christmas. I know it’s very different for you this year, but it is for me as well. Please, I beg of you to put your worries aside just for the holiday. Just give me Christmas, Becca, please. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to know that you kissed him. I just want to be a completely oblivious, happy idiot and enjoy the next two days together.” He takes my hands and thumbs the tops of them, then kisses my forehead. I pull my hands away and wipe my eyes.

“Okay, baby. What would you like to do? I have a few hours before I have to put the lasagnas in.” I grab a few tissues and blow my nose.

“Well, why don’t you run along to the bathroom, sweetheart, and wash your face up. Then we’ll head downstairs for a surprise.” He helps me up.

“A surprise?” I suddenly feel childlike excitement come over me.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure you will love it!” He only offers a small smile, but his eyes dance with joy and excitement.

“Do I need to change?” I ask as I head to the bathroom.

“No, darling, just freshen your face.” he says.

I close the door behind me and look in the mirror. Yikes! I do look a mess! I turn on the faucet and splash cold water onto my face, and I feel my skin perk up immediately. I pat my face dry and look back at the mirror. Ray is right—my eyes turn sea green when I cry. Grayson pops his head in after a few minutes.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes.” I smile and take his hand. He leads me out of the room and downstairs. “What is this?” I smile as we head into the lounge. There is a group of five, three men and two women, all dressed in fancy 1800s garb.

“Have a seat, sweetheart.” Grayson smiles as we sit on the empty sofa. Charlie and Hazel are sitting on the other one. Morgan plops onto Gray’s lap. I lean up against him, and he puts his arm around my shoulders. “There’s hot chocolate there, love, if you’d like some.” He points to the coffee table.

“I’m good right now, sweetie. Would you like some?” I smile up at him. He shakes his head. Morgan grabs some and gets resituated on Gray’s lap. He then nods to the performers and they begin singing “Carol of the Bells,” my favorite Christmas song, in a cappella. From there, they sing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” another favorite. They entertain us for the next hour or so. What a great, great surprise. He amazes me. Grayson gets up and brings me with him to thank them.

“Lovely ... absolutely lovely.” Grayson shakes the hand of the director. He’s almost as tall as Grayson. His round face is covered by a short, well-cared-for beard.

“Thank you so much for coming today—you guys were amazing!” I’m still in awe.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. James. We were happy to do it,” he states cheerfully.

“Do you always perform on Christmas?”

“No, ma’am, but your husband can be very persuasive.” He laughs as Grayson hands him a check. He nods and exhales aggressively, his lips forming an “O” as he looks at the check. I find myself wondering how many zeroes were involved in my
husband’s
persuasiveness. We bid The Christmas Carolers, which is the actual name of their group, adieu.

“That was wonderful, Gray. Honestly, I don’t know how you come up with these things. How did you know I would like something like that?” I hug him.

“I’ve told you a million times, sweetheart,” he says with a sigh, “you are my favorite subject.” He palms my face and stares into my eyes. I stand on my tippy-toes and collect his lips with mine. “Can we go upstairs, sweetheart?” he breathes against my lips.

“Abso-bloody-friggin-lutely, baby!” I smile.

“Mom?” Morgan interrupts us.

“Yeah, Morg?” I turn to her.

“Can I use your office computer to watch the DVD Ray made me?” She holds it up.

“Um, yeah, sure. Just don’t go into anything else on there, okay?”

“I know, I know! Thanks!” She runs off. My smile fades as I bring my attention back to Grayson ... an irritated Grayson.

“Let’s go, baby.” I touch his cheek. He grabs my hand and, though I’m willing, drags me up the stairs. He pushes me forward into our room and locks the door after us.

“Undressed and in bed now!” he commands. I stand there, paralyzed by the look on his face, and swallow hard. “Now!” he yells, then adds, in a softer tone, “please.” He unbuttons his shirt and walks up to me. “Becca, please do as I say, darling.”

I help him out of his shirt. He pulls at my hem.

“Arms up, love,” he says. I lift my arms, not taking my eyes off of him for a second. He pulls my shirt off.

“Grayson?” I reach up and touch his cheek. He closes his eyes at my touch. I lean up and graze his lips with mine.

“I’m mad, sweetheart ... I’m frustrated. I feel like the reigns are being pulled out of my hands, even though I’m grasping tightly.” He keeps his eyes closed as he divulges his feelings to me.

“You have a right to be mad and frustrated. I’m sorry I’m the reason behind it.” I speak as softly and calmly as I can.

“Raymond is the reason behind it, and your feelings for him, of course ... let’s not forget about those creeping around,” he says with a bit of sarcasm as he walks away from me. “Pants, Becca!” he snaps. I don’t know whether to be frightened or a bit turned on. I’m feeling quite the mixture of both, so I pull my pants off dutifully. I walk up behind him and softly kiss across his back as I reach around to work at his belt and jeans. I guide them and his boxer briefs down to the floor.

“Come, baby.” I kiss his shoulder.

“Oh, I plan on it, sweetheart!”

He’s terse. I don’t blame him. He turns, grabs my hand, and pulls me over to the bed. He sits on the edge and hooks his hands under each side of my panties, practically ripping them as he pulls them down. God, he looks so angry. I work at my bra and yelp loudly, grasping his shoulders to brace myself as the sting sets in from the harsh slap on my bum. Just as I recover from that, he does it again--even harder this time. A sob to escapes my throat.

“Sit astride me now, Becca.” He pulls at my hips. I take in a shaky breath and climb onto his lap. He greets me harshly, making me cry out. “Quiet!”

“Grayson, please.” My voice is barely a whisper. I begin to move at a pace he seems to enjoy and rest my forehead against his. “Grayson, look at me,” I beg. Slowly, he opens his eyes. “I love you. Please, Grayson.” I press my lips to his, and he cups my face to deepen the kiss.

He turns us around and lowers me to my back, then pulls away from my lips and stares into my eyes as he slowly makes love to me. My hips meet his urgently, then keep their position for a few seconds before he pulls out to thrust back in. This is how he’s always made love to me—holding onto the connection, savoring it. It’s powerful, it’s urgent, it’s beautiful, and it’s achingly familiar. I arch my neck as I feel myself climb. “Oh, baby ... oh God ... baby, please,” I practically cry as I try to encourage a faster pace with my hips.

“Oh ... no, sweetheart. I want you to bathe in ... this.” He holds my hip with his left hand, slowing me down and continuing at his own pace.
A very flushed Operatic Sybecca walks into the spotlight, her Viking helmet completely uneven. She’s donned in the British flag. Her mouth opens wide. “Ave Maria ... Maria ... Maria ... Maria,” she belts loudly through my orgasm, finishing with a never-ending high “C” note. I swear she holds if for five minutes. A tall tenor joins her on stage, singing a note just as long. An ocean wave heavy with white seafoam hits them. It pulls back and they embrace, trying to catch their breath.
Grayson thrusts into me one last time before collapsing on top of me.

“Sweetheart?” he asks, smiling at me. “Were you singing ‘Ave Maria’ during your climax?” He chuckles a bit.

“Nope, that was Operatic Sybecca,” I say, straight-faced. Grayson lets loose a roar of laughter, and I can’t help but laugh with him. I’m delighted that he once again seems happy and in good spirits. “Feel better, baby?” I ask, and kiss his sweaty head.

“Mmm.” He snuggles into my neck. “I wish we could stay like this forever, Becca. You don’t know how much I wish it, sweetheart. If I could go back in time and change one moment in my life, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I would, Becca, I’d change it and everything would be the way it should be. It’s terrible how one moment, one decision, alters everything without you even knowing it’s a game changer. It isn’t fair!” His accent becomes very thick in the midst of his passionate rant, and I’m not sure I know what the hell he’s talking about.

“Grayson, what moment? What moment do you want to go back and change?” I palm his face to help me hold his gaze. He goes into Morse code. That’s not good.

“Just forget it, sweetheart. I’m blathering on. It’s nothing I can change now, and I just need to let it go and not fall back into my selfish ways. My purpose is your happiness. That’s all I want for you, love. It’s all that matters.” His eyelids slow to a passionate pace, accentuating his frown.

“Grayson ... baby, you are all over the place. I’m getting a little confused.” An understatement.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. It will all make sense soon, love ... I promise.” He kisses me swiftly and rolls onto his back.
Um ... yeah, should I tell him that only confuses me more?

“Can I at least ask what flipped your switch before?”

“Why, sweetheart—you managed to flip it back, didn’t you?” He leans on his elbow.

“Yeah, but the point is that it got flipped. Why?” He’s not slipping out of this one with his usual trick of equivocation!

“This is my time with Morgan! Why did he have to give her a DVD of his memories with her? I’d rather be beaten to a bloody fucking pulp than get a slap in the face like that! I know I said I stowed them away, sweetheart, but I’m sorry, the purple pants are coming out for this one! Those should have been
my
memories with her! She’s my daughter!” he yells. I sit up and look at him. I can only imagine how my face is portraying my thoughts, because I am beyond confused at his outburst. “Well, you know what I mean, darling. I feel as if she’s really mine. I wish I had all those years with her. I don’t know. I’m being a bit oversensitive, I guess. Possibly a bit ridiculous.” His eyelids go at warp speed. I feel as if he’s backpedaling.

“Grayson, you are behaving rather strangely. Are you feeling okay?” I touch his forehead.

“Sweetheart, honestly, I do believe I have the right to be a bit all over the place!” His frustration is creeping back into his words. I sit up and reach for my shirt.

“What are you doing?” He sits up as well.

“Getting up.”

“No! Lay down ... if anything, just to lay here in peace and quiet with me. Away from other people and the possible distractions they offer!”

“This is peace and quiet?” I ask, lifting my hands. He leans over to me. His lips fall to my right shoulder and slowly caress it with kisses.

“Well, I’d love another piece ... and, by all means ... no need to be quiet about it.” He smiles against my skin as his hands creep up to cup my breast.

“Stop it!” I push his hands away. “I don’t want to!”

“Oh, I believe you do ... you are a very obsequious wife. I appreciate that about you very much, you know.” He grabs my wrists as he straddles me.

“Get off!”

“Nuh-uh,” he says with a wicked grin. His beautiful naked body is such a distraction from my anger.

“I want you and your swinging meat out of my face!” I yell. This only provokes a laugh from him. I would join in, but I’m too damn mad.
Swinging meat? Really, Becca?

“Oh, darling, as I recall, you love the look of my swinging meat—as well as the taste. Which reminds me,” he steadies my arms, “it’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing one of your fantastic blow jobs. Darling, why don’t you give it a go for me?” I can see he’s having a difficult time stifling his amusement.

“You’re a tall, flexible man ... suck your own dick!” I snap.

“If I was confident I could do it as well as you, sweetheart, it might be a thought to ponder on. But, alas, I lack the confidence in your area of expertise!” His grin becomes smugger. He leans forward, trying to grasp my lips with his, but I pull back. “Oh, Becca, you know how I love the chase.” He tugs me forward and kisses my neck aggressively. “The catch.” Another kiss. “The conquering.” He fists my hair and presses his mouth to mine. I try to pull away again. He tightens his grip on me.

“Let go!” I yell.

“Ooh, you are really getting mad, sweetheart.” He smiles, then bites his bottom lip. “Do you even know why?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yes! Because you’re being an arrogant asshole!” I say through my teeth.