Twenty-Seven

Oakley

Hearing him say he loved me was bittersweet. For nine years, I had thought he had lied the day he told me he loved me. Knowing that he hadn’t lied and that he had still loved me—even though he had wanted Sylvia sexually, not me. It just hadn’t been enough.

I would never be enough for Wilder.

Shaking that emotion off and getting ahold of myself were important though. I hadn’t meant to go all crazy, possessive girlfriend just because we’d had sex, but this day had been difficult.

“It’s late,” Wilder said, coming up behind me where I stood at the sink, washing the dishes we had used.

His hand slid around my waist and underneath my shirt, causing goose bumps to break out over my skin. When his lips brushed over a tender spot on my neck, I shivered.

“I left a mark,” he whispered. “I want to fuck you again.”

His rigid erection pressed against my back, and my eyes fluttered closed. This man made me desperate so easily. I arched my back, and he ran his hands up until they covered my breasts. When he squeezed them, I gasped.

“I want to fuck you hard. With you bent over the counter,” he growled, then licked the spot he had bitten earlier.

Could I do this? Just take what he was giving and not ever expect more? This had a clock on it, and it was ticking. I knew it would end. I wanted him. That would never change. It was just facing that, soon, he wouldn’t want to touch me. All I would have were the memories.

“Okay,” I replied.

If this was all I would be getting, then I wanted to get everything I could. Take every moment I could with me. Tuck them away. Hold on to them when times were dark. When I had no one. When my heart hurt so bad that I couldn’t breathe.

Wilder growled as he pulled my sweatshirt off over my head. His hands slid down my lifted arms until he was cupping my breasts.

“You feel like silk,” he murmured against my ear before moving his hands to the waist of my sweats and shoving them until they puddled at my feet.

He began kissing my back and leaving a trail as he went down to his knees. His lips brushed over my butt and down the back of my leg until he took my right calf and lifted it out of the sweats. He did the same with the left, then moved the clothing away. I shivered as he ran his hands back up my legs, then pulled them open.

I gripped the edge of the sink as his warm breath met my wet heat.

“You smell fucking incredible,” he said just before his tongue slid over me.

My knees buckled, and he grabbed my hips, steadying me as he continued with the maddening pleasure.

“Wilder,” I said in a strangled whisper, not sure how long I could continue standing here while he did this.

“Just let me taste some more, baby. I’ve thought about this pussy for fucking years. Let me enjoy it,” he said, then bit down on the flesh of my inner thigh.

I cried out—not from the pain, but from the words. If I was going to survive this, he couldn’t say those things to me.

“Should have been mine to take. You should have kept it for me. Not been so impatient. I would have given you all you needed. Taken care of this hot little cunt.” His voice took a dark edge.

I gasped and leaned forward as his tongue slipped inside of me. Thinking straight while this was happening was almost impossible, but I had heard him. I always heard him when he spoke. And I didn’t understand what he was saying. I had waited for him. Longer than I should have. He had been divorced from Sylvia by the time I lost my virginity.

“I did,” I panted. “I was yours. Long after you weren’t mine.”

His fingers bit into my flesh, and I winced. “Don’t say shit like that, not right now. Not when my mouth is on your pussy. You didn’t save it for me. Let that lie go. All truth now.”

I stiffened and opened my mouth to argue when he flicked my clit with his tongue. My knees gave out again, and his deep chuckle vibrated against my center.

“That’s honesty. That’s what I need. Pure lust. Need. Raw desire. You’re gorgeous, but you know that,” he said, sliding a finger inside of me. “So damn beautiful that it makes a man weak with want. To own you. To touch you. To fuck you. That’s the truth. That’s what we have.”

How was it possible that I was insulted, hurt, and on the verge of an orgasm, all at the same time? Closing my eyes tightly, I tried to focus. I had to say something. There was my pride to think of here. He was accusing me of being a liar. But about what? Did it matter what I had done sexually after he slept with Sylvia? He had chosen her.

That was the ice water I needed to bring me out of this. I shook my head and closed my legs, taking a deep breath before spinning around to see Wilder on his knees, looking up at me.

“I can’t. I can’t do this with you saying things like that. I never lied to you. Not once.”

Wilder slowly stood up, his mouth wet with my arousal, and his tongue came out and slid over his bottom lip. I shivered, watching him. Good Lord, why did he have to have this effect on me?

“Is that so? You want to stand there, naked, with my mouth on your cunt and tell me you saved yourself for me?” He shook his head as a shadow passed over his heavy-lidded eyes. “I was giving you time to be sure I was what you wanted, and you wanted fucked so bad that when I wouldn’t do it, you went off to college and gave it to some fucker who didn’t deserve it.”

What? Shock and confusion at his words silenced me. Was I hearing him correctly?

“You think I went and slept with Sylvia because I wanted her? Think about it, Oakley. I was so damn obsessed with you. Why would I make that mistake? I know about the guys at college. I know you were living your life and sowing your wild oats. When I found out, it destroyed me. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my damn heart out with their hands.” He turned and stalked away from me. His body rigid. “FUCK, Oakley! I didn’t want to talk about the past. It’s done. Those are your words, right?” he asked as he spun back around to glare at me accusingly.

I opened my mouth and closed it, still horrified. Shaking my head, I managed to find my voice. “I never had sex with anyone in college,” I choked out. “I lost my virginity to Sebastian, Wilder, and you had already divorced Sylvia by that time.”

He said nothing as he stood there and looked at me. His dark, piercing gaze hardened. “You’re lying.”

A humorless laugh full of pain escaped me.

How had he even thought I would do that? Had he not picked up on the fact that he was all I wanted in this life? I told him several times a day that I loved him. I’d even worried that I had driven him away because of my constant texting and need to talk to him.

“I’m not.” My voice sounded hoarse from the tears clogging my throat. “Ask Sebastian yourself. He was the first guy to see me naked. I’d been a nervous wreck. Then … when we finally had sex, well, he can tell you that I was a virgin. All I wanted back then was you. I wasn’t throwing myself at you because I wanted to have sex. I just wanted you.”

Wilder shoved his fingers into his hair as a wild look lit his eyes. “Tell me this is a fucking joke, Oakley.”

I shook my head. “No.”

His shoulders lifted and fell hard as he breathed. “That can’t be true.” His voice was laced with steel.

“It is.”

The veins on his neck stood out, and his face flushed red. “NO, IT CAN’T BE!” he shouted. “IF IT IS, THEN-” He stopped and stalked across the room, as far from me as he could get. Balling his hands into fists, he hit them against the rock wall and dropped his head as he leaned there, holding himself up.

“Why did you think—” I started to ask and stopped.

His body was so rigid that I wasn’t sure I needed to push this right now. But he had believed I was cheating on him? I couldn’t wrap my head around that. I had worshipped the ground he walked on. Everyone knew it. His friends made jokes about it. My roommate at college had teased me about all the pictures I had of Wilder on my side of the room.

“She told me,” he said with an enraged breath. “Sylvia told me, and I believed her.”

Wrapping my arms around my naked chest, I suddenly felt exposed by my nudity. The reminder of Sylvia and the things she had done to hurt me was the last thing I wanted. How she had made sure people thought the worst of me. How my father had preferred her over me. But Wilder was the one I had trusted. He had known me, seen me, and … the thought that he would believe her over me was a new hurt I hadn’t been prepared for.

He dropped his hands, and I bent down to get the sweatshirt off the floor. I needed to be covered. I had to get some space. My chest was so tight that I didn’t think I could breathe.

“She had pictures of you at parties. One with a guy, and your hands were around his neck. He was holding you around your waist.”

I blinked as I held the shirt in front of me. What picture? I shook my head. I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You can’t deny a fucking picture, Oakley. You might not have been having sex with him, but you sure as hell were cozy with him. Do you have any idea how seeing another guy touching you and how fucking happy you were about it destroyed me?”

“Wilder, I—what picture? Why would Sylvia have a picture of me at college? At a party?”

“Facebook. You were tagged in it. You told me you were going to a party. Your friend Sam had invited you. I trusted you. I thought you loved me. Then, Sylvia showed me the picture. She said she had more, but seeing it made me sick. I couldn’t look at any more of them. I went to the bar, started drinking. Anything to numb the pain. I drank until I blacked out. I woke up with Sylvia in my bed.”

Sam. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the edge of the sink. A heaviness unlike any I had ever felt settled over me.

“Sam,” I said softly and closed my eyes.

I knew that picture. I remembered that night. Every moment of it. The week before Thanksgiving. Everyone had been leaving to go home for the holiday, and there had been a party.

“Yeah, Sam. Remember now?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then, you understand why I believed her. Even if you didn’t fuck him, you both were very comfortable, touching each other. I didn’t touch other girls, Oakley. I didn’t even notice them. You were all I wanted. And you so casually let another guy put his hands on you. Get close to you.” The accusation in his voice didn’t hide his pain.

“Sam is gay. He and Ross were two of my closest friends during my time at Ole Miss. They were the reason I survived after—” I stopped and looked down at the ground.

He had thought I’d cheated. Because of a stupid picture Ross had posted on his Facebook page and tagged me. I’d never even used Facebook back then or now. I just had it, like everyone else did. But Sylvia had been watching me. For what? To find me making a mistake?

“Gay.” The word came out in a whisper.

“Yeah. I follow them on Instagram. They’re married now. They have a daughter, Arabella, who is six. They adopted her three years ago.”

I knew in that moment that all I had once thought changed. It was clear. The past. The disbelief that I could have been so wrong about what I thought Wilder and I had. The destruction it had caused us. The hate he’d had toward me for so long and the revenge I had taken out on him in court that day. Something he hadn’t deserved. Something I could never take back.

Yet, knowing the lie Sylvia had told and the pain she’d inflicted, I couldn’t hate her for it. Because the truth was, if we could go back in time, I wouldn’t change it. Without her lie, without the hell I had suffered because of it, there would be no Sarah, and I wouldn’t trade anything for her. I’d go through it all again to have her.

“We both know the truth now,” I finally said. “And neither one of us would go back and do anything differently. We both know that too.”

He ran his hand over his face and leaned back against the wall. “This is …” He sighed. “Fuck.”

“I’ve spent years trying to hate you. Sometimes, I thought I did. Other times, I wished like hell I did. Knowing the truth, it helps. I understand, and maybe I can finally heal. Finally let go of what we once were. Maybe…”

His eyes lifted to meet mine. “Can you? Because I don’t think that’s what this knowledge does for me. I have a fucking mountain of regrets I made with you that I’m not sure I can work through. At least not anytime soon.” The agony in his expression, which he wasn’t even trying to mask, broke me.

I slipped the sweatshirt over my head. It hit me mid-thigh, and I felt covered enough before walking across the room to stand in front of him. He didn’t move, but his eyes stayed on me. Never once wavering.

“We both have regrets, Wilder. But we wanted to punish each other. We were hurt. That can’t be something we let control us.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “It’s not that easy,” he said. “I don’t know if I can move past it. Let it go.” He inhaled sharply. “Sebastian was the one to take your virginity—something you’d held on to for so long. And you gave it to him. A man I have to see, work with, and know he loved you and had you in a way I never will.”

I wanted to laugh at that, but I didn’t. Wilder would misunderstand my humor. But the thought that Sebastian had ever had more of me than Wilder was so far from the truth. He’d taken my virginity, but that night, I had cried. Because it hadn’t been Wilder. I never opened my heart to Sebastian, and he tried hard to reach me. Even going as far as asking me to marry him. Telling me he loved me enough for the both of us and that he’d spend his life making me fall in love with him.

“I need some air,” Wilder said, moving away from me. “Will you be okay with being alone for a little bit?”

No. I wanted him here. But I also didn’t think I could fix what was wrong. Not when he was shutting me out like this. I wasn’t going to beg him. I’d done that already. No more.

“Sure,” I lied.