Squeezing my eyes shut, I grip his hands tighter and moan into the pillow. I don’t wait for him. My body shudders as I cry out, chanting Livingston’s name while I spasm around him.
He squeezes my hands so tightly I think they might break.
When the thrusts slow, he falls on top of me, touching my hair and kissing my skin. “S’il vous plaît. Ne me quitte pas,” he whispers against my hair.
Opening my eyes, I weakly squeeze his hands back, and my body convulses.
I love this broken man so much. I love him so much there’s no possible way I can leave him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Livingston
There’s a certain protocol I’ve perfected after the act of sex.
Throughout the years not a single woman has walked away unsatisfied, and that’s because I always make sure that no time is spent lingering in bed. Nothing good can come out of dawdling around.
No, it’s best if everyone goes their separate ways because too much time can lead to long embraces that every woman seems to want after sex.
Apparently, every woman but Rainey. When she’s finished, she’s like a cat stretching after a long nap. Her arms above her head, her toes pointed at the footboard, and the sheets still drawn around her feet. Even though she’s content, if I reached out and interrupted her, she just might hiss at me.
I smirk at the image she makes. Her hair is in a disarray and scattered about her. Her skin is flushed and damp. She’s panting just as bad as me, but instead of thinking how I should let her rest, I’m thinking of how I can take her again.
Get up. It’s time for you to leave.
Rainey chooses that precise moment to turn and smile at me.
Leave? How can I leave when she gave me a smile like that? So trusting, and sincere and almost innocent. I think I’d give anything to have her smile at me like that again.
“Do you make a habit of residin’ with your conquest after you’ve been intimate with them?” she finishes her question with a long yawn.
I can’t help but smile. I hear the thread of jealousy in her voice when she said conquest. She wouldn’t be envious if she didn’t care. God help me for being pleased, but I can’t help myself. Recently, I’ve been driving myself mad when she’s with the bachelors.
I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling, and lace my fingers behind my head. I’m undecided on whether I should be flattered or insulted that she was close to falling asleep after sex. Rainey sits up, holding the sheet in front of her body. Her dark hair trails down her back. It’s so long the ends brush against the dimple above the crease of her butt.
Let the sheet slip, my mind thinks wickedly.
Tu est parfait.
I know what’s beneath all the many layers of her clothes. I know it’s what a man wants, and better yet, I know her reaction goes beyond every man’s wildest imagination.
She will make one of the bachelors happy.
The thought should soothe me. So why are my hands balled into fists?
“Livingston?”
The sound of Rainey’s voice guides me back to the present, and I look at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
Did I accidentally speak my thoughts aloud? Rolling onto my side, I tug on the corner of the sheet. She bats my hand away, and I grin at her. “No, I don’t stay with my conquest. And you’re not a conquest.”
Just as I suspect, my remark gets a reaction out of her. She turns in my direction so quickly the tips of her long hair brush against my arm. Her brows nearly reach her hairline. “Oh.”
Hardly any room is between us, but she’s too far away. I want my arms around her. Breasts to chest, and legs intertwined. “Come here,” I drawl.
Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I pull her toward me. Rainey freely falls. Her body becomes half draped over mine, and her palms settle on my chest.
The two of us are silent for a moment. I could’ve fallen asleep within minutes if there weren’t fingertips tracing languid circles across my chest.
“May I ask you a question?” Rainey quietly asks.
“You may.”
Rainey shifts so she can look me in the eye. “Why didn’t you attend Miles’s memorial? I searched for you,” she admits quietly.
I tilt my head in her direction. I can only stare at her. It was only a matter of time until this was asked, but hearing Miles’s name still feels like a punch to the gut.
“Why are you silent?”
I take a deep breath. “Because I knew you would ask this question. Didn’t think it’d be tonight.”
Rainey pauses. “I’ve thought about it since his memorial,” she confesses.
“I’m shocked you didn’t say anythin’ sooner. I appreciate your ability to be forthright. It’s the one thing I can count on in this world.”
“Well, I would have said somethin’, but the discovery that my family is penniless was a big distraction.”
“As it would be for most.”
“Why weren’t you there?” she persists.
Taking a deep breath, I look at the ceiling. It’s far easier to look away from someone when you’re telling the truth than in the eye.
“I didn’t want to believe it.” Rainey’s so still, it’s like I’m holding onto stone. “I drank the day away, tryin’ to convince myself that if I didn’t show, then he wasn’t gone.”
“I wish that was so. Then I wouldn’t have attended,” Rainey remarks. “None of us would have.”
My hold on her tightens before I continue. “Do you know Miles fought the Battle of St. Quentin Canal in France? He was on the Hindenburg Line while I engaged in the Second Battle of the Somme. We were both in France but towns apart from each other. Out of all his family and friends, I was the closest to him.”
I swallow and continue talking because if I stop I know for certain I won’t say another word. “When I was comin’ home, I asked about him. So many soldiers were missing in action on both sides. There was another man in the 30th infantry division with the last name Pleasant. For a moment, they mistook Miles for him and said he was accounted for. I felt relief. He was all right. But that was momentary when they realized their blunder. I knew somethin’ was wrong. I just knew it, and when I arrived home and saw you at the train station, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. You looked so beautiful and hopeful. I just couldn’t.”
I take a deep breath.
Continue!
Rainey is the only person who will understand.
She didn’t see what I saw or experienced, but my gut tells me there’s no better person to be forthright with.
“Every now and then, I wonder if I had got to him if I could have helped him. Even if I was too late, I wouldn’t have let him stay out there.” An anguished breath escapes me. “I wouldn’t.”
“I know that,” Rainey urgently whispers. “Everybody knows that.”
“Sometimes, I tell myself he died of natural causes. Perhaps he had a stroke, or a virus got the best of him. I envision him walking through the forest, sitting down with his back against a tree. He falls asleep and just never wakes up. It’s just him, the trees, and the animals,” I confess, ignoring the crack in my voice.