Page 15 of Trade It All (The Barrington Billionaires 3)
“You should have.” I gave you everything. My body. My heart. How could you kiss every inch of me and not see that it was Lexi the next day?
His shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I can’t change what happened. But I am—I’m sorry. How long can you hate me for something I did ten years ago?”
His apology was a torment of its own. If only it had ended with Lexi pretending to be her and him not knowing the difference. She could have forgiven him for that.
I don’t hate you. This would be so much easier if I did.
She covered her face with one hand. “When she came back and told me you’d kissed her, a piece of me died. I know you think it was a ridiculous case of puppy love, but it was more than that. For me, at least. It was more. Then you were so angry.”
“Shit, Willa. I don’t know what else to say. I was young and self-absorbed. I felt like a fool when I thought you’d sent your sister in your place.” He took the hand away from her eyes gently. “I said stupid things.”
Still holding his hand, Willa felt his tension. His regret was sincere. It made what she knew she had to do even harder. Reliving that time, even briefly, had shaken her deeply. She’d once judged Sophie for hanging on to a loss so tightly her family paid for it. That kind of pain had been inconceivable to Willa until she’d experienced a loss of her own and discovered there were wounds that time doesn’t heal. Can’t heal.
And some held the terrifying power of ripping everything away from a person.
She’d come to a truce, if not peace, with herself. She’d survived. Her relationship with Lexi was still intact. Hell, they still shared an apartment together. She wouldn’t allow the past to continue to hurt her. Moving forward, Willa. It was better for all of them if Lance thought she was upset because of mistaken identity. There was no need for him to know . . . Intent on keeping the rest to herself, she said, “It’s okay, Lance. It was a long time ago. We were both young, and maybe that’s all we’re guilty of.” This time she gently removed her hand from his. “We’ll probably always be part of each other’s lives, but that’s all there can ever be for us.”
Lance cupped one side of her face with his hand. “Then what do we do with this?” His mouth came down and claimed hers.
Despite everything she’d said, every shred of sanity she’d clung to, she opened her lips for him. She met his plundering kiss with a frenzy that came from years of pent-up hunger. Hunger for him. She gripped his strong shoulders and gave herself over to a passion that burned hotter than any she’d experienced with other men.
He pulled her tight against him. His arousal pulsed against her stomach, and she writhed against it, shaken when she realized he was as much a slave to their attraction as she was. Her arms went up and around his neck. His hands cupped her ass, moving her even more intimately against his excitement.
There was nothing beyond how good his mouth felt on hers, how her skin tingled everywhere it touched his. She needed more. He must have been feeling the same way because he yanked her skirt upward and slid his hands beneath the silk panties she’d impulsively worn beneath it. She frantically began to pull the front of his shirt out of his pants.
The sound of a knock on the door of his office brought Willa back to her senses. She pulled away from him and yanked her skirt down over her ass just in time to turn and face a very embarrassed secretary who stuttered her way through an apology before closing the door.
In a deep, gravelly voice, Lance asked, “What do we do about that, Willa?”
Nothing. I can’t do this again. I can’t open myself to that kind of pain a second time. Willa backed toward the door, grabbing her purse on the way. “Nothing. If you care about me at all—do nothing.”
She was out the door and standing on shaking legs in the elevator before he had a chance to stop her. She brought a hand to her lips, lips still warm from his kiss. He raced after her and arrived just in time for the doors to close. He called out her name. She closed her eyes and turned away.
Lust was like a powerful narcotic. It felt good, but if a person gave in to it, it also had the ability to destroy them.
By the time the elevator opened on the first floor, Willa had composed herself. She took her shame, her embarrassment, and stuffed it deep down in the box in her gut where she kept all the feelings she didn’t want to face.
Many things were better denied.
What good would come from resenting her parents for dying? For hating her elderly aunt and uncle for not wanting to raise her and Lexi? Did it matter why Lexi had taken her place and gone on the date with Lance?
I don’t want to be angry all the time.
I don’t want to hate myself or anyone else.
Willa hailed a cab and climbed in. Lance stepped outside of his building. She told the driver to go and faced forward.
I’m sorry, Lance.
A flash of herself in her college’s clinic, discussing possibly terminating her pregnancy cut through her. Did I lose the baby because I considered an abortion?
Was it punishment for not being brave enough to tell anyone?
Not Lance?
Not Lexi?
Willa burst into tears in the back of the cab.
“Lady, are you okay?” the driver asked.
Willa shook her head. She was as far from being okay as she’d ever been.
And this is why I can’t look back. This is who I become when I do. She thought about Kenzi’s words. “None of us are who we were back then. Give yourself a chance to get to know who he is now.”
Sorry, Kenzi. I know he’s not the boy I slept with that summer. He’s a man now—a man with the power to rip away my façade of strength.
I don’t want to go back to hating myself.
I can’t risk that.
No matter how much I may want to.
Still catching his breath from his sprint down the stairs, Lance watched Willa leave in a cab and stood rooted to the sidewalk for a long time. He’d finally gotten his answers, but they came with even more questions. Willa hadn’t sent Lexi. Nothing about their first time together had been a game to her.
Which makes me even more of a dick than I thought.
Perfect.
How could anything that felt as good as being with Willa also hurt like an elephant had just kicked him in the balls. He wanted to grab the next cab, chase her down, and—and then what?
Her words came back to him. “If you care about me at all—do nothing.” What the fuck did that mean?
“Lance Barrington?” a man asked as he approached, extending his hand for a shake as though they were old friends. Lance didn’t recognize the man standing next to him expectantly.
&nbs
p; He turned his head from the man and back toward the street. Following Willa wasn’t an option, but nor was letting things end the way they had. He answered absently, “Yes.”
“I’m Emmitt Kalling.” The man dropped his hand once it became clear the greeting wasn’t going to get any warmer. “Dax Marshall said you were in need of my services.”
Lance shook his head. “Sorry, who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I’m a freelance security specialist.” He lowered his voice and folded his arms across his chest, his sleeves pulling up enough to expose his web of tattoos that ran up his arms. He was exactly the type of security Lance imagined Dax would need to employ. “We should talk about this in a less public place.”
“Dax called you?” Lance asked, not actually caring what he was saying. His attention had already slid away from the man to Willa. He ran their last conversation over in his head again and again. He shouldn’t have pushed for the truth right away. He should have given her time. His impatience was that of the twenty-year-old he’d been. Grow the fuck up.
This doesn’t have to be a repeat of the first time.
It was apparent Emmitt was quickly losing patience and looked as if he was barely holding back what he really wanted to say. “Yes, Dax Marshall. He said you were looking for added security. You had some sort of breach in the office. I can assure you if that’s the case I’ll track down the problem and it won’t happen again. But I do think we should take this meeting elsewhere.”
“No,” Lance answered flatly. He had always handled his own business. The last thing he needed was another brother thinking he needed guidance.
“No there was no breach?” Emmitt asked, still clearly fighting his annoyance.
“No, I don’t need your services. Dax was wrong,” Lance said shortly. In that moment he didn’t give a shit about the woman who had passed herself off as his secretary. All he cared about was that Willa was hurting, and she had cut him out of her life—again.
