“No, baby, please don’t.” He grabs my arms and hauls me against him.
But his caress and the murmured words meant to soothe make me cry harder, and then I let it come. I fully let myself understand what it means to be dying. I’ve closed the true reality off in my head like an unwelcome enemy.
I should end this now. The cold truth seeps into my soul, hardening all the walls that Carter, Logan, and Quaid have cracked wide open.
I should walk away right now so that they can hate me for leaving, and not hate me for dying.
Wiggling free, I kneel, as if the separation will lessen the sting when it comes. Of all the awful things I’ve endured, this will be the worst.
I love him, I love them, but not with the pureness I did for my father. This is a greedy, needful, brimming with strength, hot and lustful, sweet and crooning love. The kind of love that destroys everything in its path with a promise of a forever that can never come.
I’m dying.
This mantra slices through my feigned calm and lashes against my heart in hurtful strokes. I steady myself with cleansing breaths, one deep lungful after another as I work through the pain. There is no preparation for this kind of realization.
It hurts. It hurts so fucking much, the jabs rip into my veins, it slices at my organs. A sob erupts from my chest, and I close my lips around it.
I cough at the lump that’s built up in my chest and glance at Carter. His eyes are expressionless, unreadable, as if he’s closed himself off to prepare for whatever I’m holding back from him.
“Just hold me,” I whisper finally, because I realize that at this moment, I’m too weak to leave them.
I just have to figure how to leave before the end.
Carter’s heat is potent as he moves behind me, close. Not a second later, he reaches beneath my knees and sweeps me up, tucking me in so my nose is pressed to his neck. And for each sob, the gasp that follows is full of him. He stands up and walks us over to the blanket. My skin is itchy and tight from the sand drying. It’s a testament to how amazing the sex was just now that I didn’t realize how uncomfortable it really was to make love on a beach.
I’ll be getting sand out for days.
We settle down on the blanket, his whispered words lost in my hitching breath and the bouts of crying that come and go, until there’s nothing left. Reaching into the basket, he hands me a napkin, and for some reason, I start crying even harder. I hate my weakness, but I love him more, so I struggle out of his tight hold and stare into his shining eyes. They’re filled with so much compassion, he blurs again under the waterworks that seem endless.
“Baby,” he whispers so softly, I barely hear him over the pounding of my heart. “Don’t cry please, my sweet Valentina.”
I sniff and look at him through wet lashes. I touch his cheek. He nudges into my palm as if he needs me as much as I do him.
“My sweet girl.” He cups my nape, tipping my head with the fingers.
“You won’t want me when you find out,” I tell him through hiccupped sobs.
“I’ll always want you,” he growls, tipping up my chin so that I can see his eyes somehow manage to darken even more with intensity.
Always, he wants me always.
I raise my hand to his jaw, peppered with rough hair from not shaving. My fingers stroke over his cheek and up to his brow. I smooth out the tense lines and then move into his waves. I fist his hair, and as his nostrils flare, I tug his mouth to mine. I’m not chaste or sweet. I want to feel every part of him again, let him take away the reality that is haunting me.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmurs roughly.
“Please, I need you.”
He gives in with another murmured, “Always,” and then he kisses me. So gentle, even when I try to deepen it, he forces the pace and it’s slow, tender.
Taking me back down to the blanket, he worships every inch of my body, with his mouth and tongue, hands and fingers, then finally, his body.
Hard, yet soft at the same time, he takes me with a soothing glide, yet I scream his name as I crash around him.
Tears streak down the sides of my face and into my hair. We stay like that for what seems like hours, him still inside of me, and he whispers words that I once thought I’d never hear again.
“I love you. I love you so damn much.”
Chapter 10
Then
_____________________________________
Valentina
“Are you excited?” Dad asks me as he takes out a Tupperware from the fridge with last night’s lasagna in it.
“Excited is an understatement,” I reply enthusiastically, gaining one of his deep belly laughs.
“Understandable. You only turn eighteen once, kiddo, so enjoy it.”
That’s not the only reason why I’m excited, but I leave that tidbit out. I’m sure my father wouldn’t let me out of the house today if he knew what my intentions for tonight were. Unbeknownst to Logan, Quaid, and Carter, tonight I am finally losing my virginity, and I’m going to make sure they are the ones to take it. No way would I be brave enough to tell Dad that.
“Do you know where the boys are taking you out to dinner?” he asks curiously, after he’s put his own meal to cook in the microwave.
“Quaid was able to book Lorenzo’s in the city, I think.”
“Fancy place.” My dad whistles exaggeratedly. “That boy is going all out, huh?”
“They all are.” I bite the corner of my lower lip in anticipation. I have never been more excited and terrified in all my life, but the butterflies in my belly win out over trepidation.
“Well, I hope you have fun tonight, sweetheart. Just be home by one, okay?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of two.” I wiggle my brows.
“You were, huh?” he chuckles.
“Dad, I only have one more week of school. All my exams are done, and these last days are just a formality until graduation. So it won’t hurt if I stay out just a little longer. And besides, it’s Friday night. I can sleep in tomorrow.”
“You have this all figured out, don’t you?”
“I do.” I wink mischievously at him.
“Fine, two it is. But I will be staying up until you come home.”
“Dad, you don’t have to.” I roll my eyes.
“I want to. You’re my baby girl. Whether you turn eighteen or eighty, you will always be my baby girl. So let your old man stay up and wait to make sure you get home okay. Lord knows I won’t be able to do that when you go off to college.”
“Fine,” I relent, knowing he’ll end up doing it whether I want him to or not.
He points at the kitchen clock, my gaze following his.
“You should be getting ready. If I know those boys as well as I think I do, they will be here any minute now.”
“Oh crap, you’re right,” I yelp, giving my dad a kiss on the cheek before rushing up the stairs to get ready.
I can still hear my father laughing from the kitchen as I close my bedroom door and rush into the bathroom to shower.
Tonight has to be perfect. The boys have no clue about my plans, but once I’ve laid my intentions on them, I hope they’ll be on board. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t made out with all of them at one point or another. This is just the big game we have been practicing for years. Unless of course, they don’t see me that way. What I’ll ask of them today, I have never had the courage to do. To be loved by all three of them at once.