Juliette took my hand. “He'll realize how wrong he was, Hanna.”
“Maybe.” I squeezed her fingers and tried not to let my voice crack. “But I don't know what I'll do when that happens. If that happens.”
“Do you still love him?”
My stomach twisted. “I'm furious with him, but I don't hate him. I can't.” I swallowed hard. “I just don't know if I can be with him after seeing him this way. You warned me to stay away from him. I should've listened.”
Juliette leaned back against my desk, her face somber. “I hoped I was wrong,” she said. “I'd based it all on how he acted in the past, before he met you. I thought you'd changed him, and I still hope that's the case. If it's not, then he's the asshole I always thought he was.”
Tears burned against my eyelids again. “I thought all of that was a front, that I saw the real man underneath, but what if I was wrong? What if this is who he really is? Cruel? Selfish?” I looked at her. “What if the man I love never really existed?”
She wrapped her arms around me, and I leaned into her. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't intended to give voice to the thing I was most afraid of – that I'd fallen in love with an illusion – but I knew she wouldn't think badly of me for it.
I'd been sheltered as a child, but I'd never thought of myself as naive. Sure, the circumstances that brought Cross and me together were strange, but I hadn't wanted to consider that they'd given me a false read on the type of man Cross was.
“We'll get through this,” Juliette said. “No matter what happens, you and I will get through it together.”
It wasn't until then that I remembered that what I was going through was minor compared to what Juliette was dealing with. I was an adult dealing with a break-up. I'd survive. Juliette was dealing with so much more.
I took a step back. “Have you talked to either of those two men?”
I knew I didn't need to explain who I meant.
Juliette shook her head. “Not yet. I'm still not exactly sure what to tell them.”
I rubbed the back of my hands across my eyes. “Looks like the two of us both have conversations coming that we don't want to have.”
She chuckled. “We’re a pair, aren't we?” She gave me a tight smile. “I'm glad you're here, Hanna. I wouldn't want to do this alone.”
I returned the smile with one of my own. “Me too.”
She straightened and nodded. “Right. Now, let's get to work. Maybe we can distract ourselves from our guy problems.”
I chuckled, feeling a bit more like myself than I had in days. This was what I needed. After Tucker and I broke up, I'd thrown myself into schoolwork and ended up graduating top of my class. If anything could divert me from Cross, this would be it.
I settled at my desk while Juliette went to her office. She'd be in and out all day, doing some paper work, some back in the kitchen. She often worked with the chefs on the menus, on making sure that all of the ingredients were included. I had calls to make, lists to check. It would've been a busy day even without all of this stuff going on with Cross and Juliette.
But it still wasn't enough.
I was scrolling through my checklist for the Nelson luncheon when I saw a familiar pair of names. Miranda Paulson and Jason Murphy. I didn’t know their last names, but I was pretty sure they were the same people. The luncheon was to discuss fundraising for high school libraries, and I knew Miranda worked at one.
I'd always like the two of them. It was their performance that had given me my first taste of the BDSM world. But it wasn’t only the erotic sensuality of the scene they'd performed but their relationship that I'd admired. They'd been a couple outside of the club, and from everything I'd seen, they were happy.
They were one of the reasons I thought it would be possible for Cross and me to do the same. I hadn't considered the fact that the reason the two of them worked so well together was because they wanted the same things. It appeared that Cross and I didn't.
Still, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt to be in the club that night, the way it made me feel to watch Miranda dominating Jason. The way I felt when Cross dominated me. Safe. Protected.
Loved.
I took a shuddering breath and tried to push the thoughts from my mind. I didn't want to think about him, or what he meant to me. Most of all, I didn't want to remember how he could make my body sing, how the thought of his touch turned me on. How just the memory of what it felt like with him inside me forced me to press my thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache.
Sex and love weren't enough, no matter how much I wished they were.
Chapter Twelve
Cross
Well, that was an idiotic move. Going to the club hadn't helped me get my mind off Hanna at all. In fact, all it made me do was think about all the things I wanted to do to her but couldn't. Which had only made me want to drink more.
So I had. I'd drank until I passed out on the couch.
I woke around noon with a raging headache, and a fucking erection hard enough to cut diamonds. I wrapped my hand around it without any real conscious thought, moaning as my fingers tightened.
It wasn't hard to imagine that it was a different hand moving over my cock. A smaller hand. I could almost hear the soft things she usually said when she was stroking me.
So hard, baby. Are you hard for me?
Look how big you are. Can barely get my fingers around you.
Can't wait to get you in my mouth. Taste you. Lick you. Suck you down until you're begging me to finish.
I'm so wet for you, baby. Can you feel how wet I am?
Hanna hadn't been much for dirty talk when we first met, but I'd encouraged her to say what she wanted, how she wanted it. I loved hearing her talk, loved knowing how she felt, how I made her feel.
My hand sped up, and my hips bucked up into my fist. Despite the pounding in my head, my balls tightened. I was close.
Most guys know how they like hand jobs by the time they reach their late teens because they've spent enough time with their hands on their dicks to know what they want. I'd always told women how to do things, including the first time Hanna had touched me, but more and more, she'd been doing her own thing, and I had to admit that she could do it better.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I moved my hand faster. The friction was almost painful, but I embraced it. I deserved it.
I deserved a hell of a lot more...or less, I supposed, depending on how I looked at it. If I got what I deserved, I'd never have Hanna's hands on me again.
A vision of her flashed through my mind. Those beautiful eyes, darkened with pleasure. Lips slightly parted, ready for a kiss.
I groaned as I came, the hot liquid spilling over my hand and onto the sheets. It was a burst of pleasure, but it was a purely physical release. I felt no relief from the pain inside me. Nothing that made me feel any better. In fact...
I rolled out of bed, barely making it to the trash can before I lost whatever was in my stomach. The heaving made my head throb, the pressure so intense that I threw up again.
When I finally managed to get up without falling, I went to the bathroom and spent a half hour in the shower, trying to wash away the smell. It sobered me enough to be able to clean up my room as well. Unfortunately, even the handful of aspirin I took was barely taking the edge off the headache, which meant that every scent was heightened, every sight and sound magnified.