I snap back to reality at the thought.
I scurry away from him, putting as much space between us as possible. I carelessly throw my art supplies into a bag, needing to get back to the house.
To get back to my boyfriend.
I’m trying to shove my box of pencils into the bag when it snaps open, pencils tumbling to the towel. I reach to grab them when he beats me to it.
“Look at me,” he demands. I do no such thing.
I can’t. Tears prick my eyes as I think about what I almost did. What I wanted to do.
What I still want to do.
When I shake my head, he stays quiet, although I can feel his stare boring into mine. If I looked up, I bet I’d find his normal, angry scowl on his face.
I swallow, feeling incredibly guilty. I look at my open sketchbook on the towel. With one loud rip, I tear what I’d just drawn and shove it into Beck’s naked chest.
“This is yours,” I force out. I don’t wait for any kind of response. I shove the book into my bag and leap to my feet.
I rush back toward the house when he grabs my elbow, spinning me to face him.
I was right. He looks angry. The muscle in his jaw feathers as he clenches his teeth. I look down to where he holds me. His hand is warm and firm against my skin. He takes the paper I’d tossed to him and hands it back to me. He pushes it into my chest, keeping his hand over mine to ensure I keep it there.
“Keep it as a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“Of unfinished business. A reminder of the night you realized that things might not be as perfect with my brother as they seem.”
He leaves me standing there alone, holding the finished drawing of him. I stare at his retreating back, obsessing over the hidden meanings in every one of his words.
I let her think about my words for as long as she needs. It’s a fact I’ve been sitting on for over a year now. I’ve had all the time in the world for it to sink in. She hasn’t. Her distant stare tells me all I need to know. She’s remembering that summer night.
Good. I love that she’s recalling it. It’s been all I’ve thought about for over a year now.
“What do you mean it didn’t stop that you wanted me?”
My hands wrap around her, pulling her into my body. So much has changed from the moment we stepped into this inn. We showed up here at each other’s throats, doing nothing but arguing. The tables have turned. We finally gave into each other and fuck did it feel good. Holding her in my arms, doing something as simple as taking a bath almost feels even better.
“Margo,” I say, my tone almost a warning. “I think you know exactly what it means.”
She spins in the bathtub, water and bubbles sloshing over the edges with the movement. Her knees stay between my legs as she sits on them, her eyes pinned on me. “You wanted me then?”
I scoff. “Don’t act like you didn’t know that.”
Her eyes search mine. I don’t know if she finds what she’s looking for as I stare back at her. Regardless, I don’t back down. I’ve wanted to talk about that night since the moment it happened. I’m ready to lay it all out on the table now, to tell her how much I fucking hated the fact she crawled back into my brother’s bed that night. He’d spent the weekend sneaking away from her whenever he could, fucking the staff in the pool house whenever Margo was busy.
I’d wanted to punch my brother when I happened upon him plowing into one of the housekeepers. I saw red when I realized he was being unfaithful to her. I’d never been in a serious monogamous relationship, but I’d never pretended to be either. He, on the other hand, had been with her for years. She deserved his loyalty—his faithfulness—and the piece of shit couldn’t even give her that.
“I always wondered…”
“Wondered what?”
“If you wanted to kiss me on that beach.”
I lean in close to her, needing to feel the press of her forehead against mine. “Want is a terrible word for it. I didn’t just want you that night. I needed you. Desperately. I coveted my brother’s girlfriend, and I didn’t give a damn that you were his. There was nothing more I wanted to do then prove to you how terrible of a fit the two of you were.”
I can feel her erratic pulse thump against the fingertips that press into her neck. “Why didn’t you then?”
“Because you ran. You went back to his bed, and I fucking hated the idea of it. It’d already been horrible enough that I’d heard your soft little moans coming through the door as I’d walked by that night, unable to sleep. It was worse knowing you crawled back in bed with him. That he could do whatever he wanted with you because you were his.”
“You heard us that night?” She looks shocked by the realization.
I grimace, remembering how livid I’d been that night. It was the first time a woman had ever captivated my attention—my affection—and it happened to be the girl my brother brought home to meet the family. “Yes,” I spit. “My room was the one next to yours, it was easy to hear.”
“Carter told me no one would.”
“He lied. He probably wanted me to hear. I’m sure he saw the way I looked at you.”
I can tell she wants to ask more questions, she just doesn’t know where to start. I’ll answer whatever she wants. I’ve already admitted to this much, might as well be up front about whatever she wants to know.
Water splashes as she leans in closer to me. I hold all of her weight, wrapping my arms around her waist. She rests her chin on my chest, looking up at me with her wide green eyes. “That night, he never,” she pauses looking around the room as she gathers her thoughts. “I mean I never you know…”
“No, I don’t know.”
“He didn’t make me…finish.”
I’m both relieved and angry. Relieved because lying in bed, listening to the sounds coming from her…it made me want to vomit. I couldn’t bare another second of being in that room next to them, imagining him fucking her, so I’d got out of the house. I’d been shocked to find her sitting on the beach—totally alone. Yet, I’m angry at how much of a selfish prick my brother was.
“I don’t want to think about that,” I confess. Even if she didn’t that one time, I still see red at the fact my brother ever had her. That she was his before she was ever mine. Deep down, I’m livid that I don’t even know if she is or ever will be truly mine. Everyone will think she is with the fake engagement, but that isn’t what matters. What matters is I want her to feel like she’s mine.
And I don’t know what to do with that fucking feeling.
It’s as if she’s completely in tune with me, knowing exactly how to tame the storm that brews inside my chest. She lays a chaste kiss to my lips. When she pulls away, I see the confirmation that neither one of us is willing to say out loud in her eyes. She may have been with him at one point, but right now, she’s here with me.
Turning around, she settles back into the tub, pressing her body against mine until it’s as if we’re almost glued together. I hold her tight, unknowing if I’ll be able to do this again once we leave the inn.
“I did crawl back in bed with him,” she begins. Her fingers stroke the top of my hand, her fingertip tracing the veins that travel up it.