Take a Bow (The Perfect Plans Series Book 2) (5 page)

Marching to his door, I knock twice, my nervous breaths slightly accelerated. I purse my lips at the lack of response, waiting a few minutes before knocking again, a little harder this time. With each passing second going unanswered, my heart rate rockets, my initial doubt taking root.
Oh, God…he’s gone. I’ve lost him.
My chest constricts, my breaths coming in anguished pants, hyperventilation setting in with each frantic knock of my knuckles against the door.

“Alex? Are you in there?” I plead, to no avail.

My world starts to spin, crumble, and panic sets in. Swallowing a sob in forfeit, I begrudgingly turn to leave, tears welling in my eyes. I’m shattered, torn apart at the seams.

Grabbing my cell, I frantically dial Stacey’s number, needing guidance as to what I should do. Do I rush to the airport? Do I follow him to London?

“Aby?” she answers on the first ring.

“Stacey, he’s not here. I don’t know what to do...” I manage, my tone defeated as the threatening tears spill down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

“What? What do you mean he’s not there?”

“He’s g-gone,” my voice cracks at the lashing reality of it.

“Babe, calm down. What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I me-e-an he’s really gone.
Literally
! There’s no answer at his room,” I reach the bank of elevators, looking back down the empty hallway in regret.

“Honey, maybe he’s just gone out,” she tries to plead rationally, but my head full of frantic thoughts isn’t registering.

“No, Stace. He’s gone. I’m too late!”

“Aby! Calm the fuck down and breathe! I need you to be strong right now! You
will
get him back. Listen to me…come back to my place, we’ll figure out a plan. You’ll just have to talk to him in London, babe. Don’t worry. Come home, we’ll figure this out together.”

Her lucidity calms me marginally, my breathing evening out as I push the elevator button. She’s right. I’ll just follow him to London. I’ll do whatever necessary to win him back. “Okay, I’m coming home. But I’m afraid, Stace. What if I’ve lost him?”

“Impossible, sugar plum. Everything will work out, I promise.”

“I’m just such a fucking idiot. Why did I run?” I mutter, a renewed well of tears threatening.

“I know, sweetie. We all make mistakes. It’s how you deal with them that matter. And, you will fix this.”

A ding signals the elevator’s arrival, and I absently swipe at my cheeks, wiping away the residual tears in hopes of exiting without looking like a blubbering idiot. The doors slide open, and I’m stopped dead in my tracks.

Alex
.

ALEX STANDS ALONE, unmoving in the elevator cab, staring blankly at me. He looks amazing, as always. And even more so with his muscles bulging, overemphasized beneath the damp, clinging black workout shirt he’s wearing. Clearly, he’s just returned from the gym. He’s sweaty, and breathless - though the latter is very plausibly at the hands of my sudden appearance. And judging by the pulse of his clenching jaw, it’s also possibly not a pleasant revelation. Regardless, I can’t help but devour him with my gaze, my eyes dropping to the loose fitting gym pants hanging sexily from his lean hips, before working their way back up. His brown curls slightly damp and in disarray, hang partially over his forehead, framing his incredible blue eyes - eyes fixated on me.

My mouth is watering at the image and all I can manage to do is gawk at him, my cell phone held to my ear, Stacey’s repeated calls for my attention a muffled distraction.

“Aby? Can you hear me? Are you still there?” she repeats, finally jarring me from my stupor.

“I’ll call you back,” I mumble, disengaging the call, unable to tear my gaze from Alex moving to stand before me.

“What are you doing here?” his tone is flat, though I sense a hint of light in his eyes - my hopeful imagination perhaps?

“I came to see you,” I manage, my voice broken and raspy.

He searches my eyes for a moment before turning, without a word, to walk down the hallway, leaving me standing in place. The cold gesture tears me apart.

Closing my eyes on a deep intake of breath, I wipe my cheeks in hopes of erasing any signs of my meltdown, following dutifully behind him, stopping to stand by his side as we reach his room. “Can I come in?” I ask as he inserts the key card, his lack of acknowledgement or words confirming my fears -
This isn’t going to be easy.

His expression is completely unreadable. Although it doesn’t help that he avoids my gaze before opening the door, forfeiting his typical gentlemanly gesture to hold it open as he makes his way into the living area of the suite, tossing his gym bag to the floor.

With another breath of composure, I adjust my shirt at the waist and steel myself for the inevitable conversation ahead, following him in.
This is it
. Time to start begging
…if that’s what it takes.

The twinkling lights and flashing billboards of the Toronto city-skyline frame his stunning form as he stands staring out at the night sky. My breath hitches at the sight of him; the beautifully decorated suite and incredible view from the large window paling in comparison to this beautiful man. The man I ran away from. The man I love.

“Well, you’re here,” he begins without turning, his tone almost void of emotion. “Perhaps now would be a good time to elaborate on the purpose of your visit,” he adds, his arms folded as he turns to face me.

“I’m here because…I love you,” I barely manage the words, swallowing the lump in my throat, fighting my lingering tears.

Flinching at my statement, awed emotion flashes across his face as he bites the corner of his mouth, his eyes gleaming slightly at the return of his clenching jaw. “You
love
me?” he spits the sentiment back in my face, his mouth parted through angered breaths.

“Yes,” I whisper, taken aback by his vehemence; a fresh stabbing ache in my chest making it suddenly harder to breathe.

The smirk of disgust he flashes sends a shudder down my spine. “Love doesn’t mean anything without trust.
Not to me
,” the latter comes out on a slight snarl before he turns away once more. “Words are cheap, and yet the cost of believing yours seems rather high,” he adds, staring out the window.

“Alex, I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m so sorry that I’ve made you doubt me…”

“
Doubt
you?” he spins around. “Lying tends to have that affect,
sweetheart
,” his harsh use of the word renews a shiver, a deliciously cold, yet delicious, current flooding through my trembling fear.

I’ve learned to both expect and draw from the unavoidable sexually explosive cocktail that this man creates within me with his every emotion. It fuels me. Gives me strength to fight. Fight for him. “I haven’t lied to you, Alex.”

“No?” he cocks his head in mocking indignation. “You lied to me about Ben.”

“Omitted, not lied, remember?”

Dropping his folded arms to his sides, he strides towards me with gaited self-assurance, stopping directly before me.

I gasp at the sudden proximity.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve already ascertained they are mutually exclusive.” His jaw clenches as he stares down into my eyes. “But most importantly, Aby, you lied to me when you said you wouldn’t leave. You lied right to my face, even when I begged you to stay. Why? Why did you leave? Just tell me the truth!” he grabs my arms to force my gaze.

The hurt I can finally see in his eyes is my undoing. My tears well, threatening to fall as I take in the anguish written all over his face. “I was scared,” I begin, visibly trembling. “I
never
meant to hurt you. I realize, now, that I allowed myself to hurt you in the worst way. Exactly as you had feared…”

Releasing me, his arms drop to his sides once more, his eyes closing on a defeated breath. “Life with me…” he laughs half-heartedly, turning away, running his fingers through his hair.

“It can be…difficult,” I finish for him, repeating his own warning. I summon the courage to hold his gaze when he turns to face me, knowing what I’m about to say will only hurt him more. “The paparazzi, endless invasion of privacy…the price of fame,” I walk towards him, praying for strength as I witness his face twist in pain. “Yes, Alex, it scared me, more than I wanted to admit. Even to myself.”

He looks away as I reach him.

“All of that scared me, just as you feared. But you didn’t let me finish,” I cup his face in my trembling hands to force his gaze. “Something else scares me even more.” I close my eyes, my hands falling from his face to slide down his chest. The feel of him beneath my palms is incredible. I
need
to feel him. To know he’s really here. “I’m so afraid that if I let myself believe, for just one moment, that everything I’ve dreamt of is right here in front of me,” I look up into his eyes, “…I’ll realize that it isn’t real. That you’re not real.”

“I
am
real, Aby,” he takes my hands in his at his chest, squeezing them. “
This
is real.”

“I want so much to believe that,” I smile through the tears streaming down my face. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of…my ultimate fantasy come true. But fantasies don’t exist in reality, do they?” the doubt surfaces on a whisper. “And even if they possibly could,” I look down in shame, “…can I live in yours?”

“Fuck, Aby. What are you saying?” He tries to search my averted gaze before releasing my hands and taking a step back. “Did you come here to tell me that you’re just giving up?”

“No,” I shake my head, trying to express every ounce of remorse in my tear-filled eyes. “I’m saying I’m scared…for more reasons than you feared. And I came in hopes to make you understand those reasons.” I bravely take a step towards him. “I’m asking you to forgive me for
almost
giving up on us. I’ve fallen madly in love with you, Alex. And as much as that scares me, losing you frightens me more,” I pause, swallowing, trying to remain audible against my sobs. “I choose us. I think I’m making a healthy choice,” I attempt to smile. “I can’t seem to breathe without you.”

The look in his eyes steals my breath anyway. Taking a step to close the small distance between us, he cups my face in his hands, taking me in a ravishing kiss that swallows my gasp for air. The feel of his lips crushing mine is overwhelming, a feeling I thought I’d never have again. And I’m unable to contain the sudden squeaky cry-moan that escapes me.

“Shhh,” he whispers between nips and kisses. “Jesus, I thought I’d lost you. I can’t lose you, Aby. I can’t,” he mumbles inaudibly through his kisses.

Wrapping my arms firmly around his waist, I try my best to reassure him, to ease his hurt. I realize now that his steely demeanor from a moment ago was simply his hardened shell - a defensive mechanism against his pain, his fear, and his own hurt. A reaction I’m all too familiar with. “You won’t lose me, Alex. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

“God, baby…”

“Make love to me, Alex. Please…” I beg, the words so easily falling off my lips. I need to feel his touch. I need to feel his skin on mine, to wrap my arms tightly around him, to feel him consume me. I need to feel that he’s
real
.

Groaning into our kiss, he scoops me up in his arms, carrying me to the bedroom, setting me down on my feet beside the bed. He takes my face in his hands, his beautiful blue eyes penetrating deep into my soul.

I moan into the return of his feverish kiss, my core pulsing from the onslaught, my hands taking him in thankful ownership, working their way around his waist, up the sculpted form of his back and shoulders.

His fingers slide into the hair at my nape and pull tight, cocking my head back roughly to force my gaze. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he pauses, his eyes searching mine. “Don’t. Ever. Fucking. Lie to me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Please…”

His mouth crashes back to mine, desperate orders spewed into our kiss…“Don’t ever leave me again…You’re
mine
, Aby.” His large body overtakes me, forcing me onto the bed. The sight of him crawling over top of me sends my pulse racing in anticipation, soaking my panties. The feel of his weight is intoxicating as he lowers his lips passionately to mine. I relish in the strength of his body, running my hands along his form, needing to feel all of him, my fingers squeezing and clawing at every perfectly defined muscle.

Our kiss is hectic, intense. We consume each other, reaching to the deepest recesses of our mouths, the need to brand each other mutual, heated, our fingers working in a desperate need to touch. Our clothes come off in a whirlwind of hands, tugging and ripping each other’s shirts off, before moving to discard our pants. I gasp as he slowly, teasingly slides his hands along my core, tearing my underwear from my body, eliciting my slight scream.

My eyes dart back to his, and I whimper at the intense heat emanating from his gaze as he slides his muscled form over top of me, resuming his passionate kisses. Kisses that work their way down my trembling body, pausing at my nipple, my belly button, to tantalize with savoring licks of his devouring lips and tongue.

“Alex,” I moan against his intentions as he spreads my legs with a firm pull, my pussy clenching in anticipation of his sinful mouth, but desperate for his fill.