Hate to Love You (24 page)

“You’re wrong.”

I made a disgusted noise. “Sure I am. Just like I’m wrong about what you think of me.”

“You are.”

“Oh yeah? What if I told you I had sex tonight? I’m a free agent and I don’t see what the problem would be. But you’d tell me I’m a low-class slut, wouldn’t you? Because you think I’m below your standards of perfection and you always have. A ‘common glass of water’ was the way you put it, remember? But you know what? Your opinion would blow past me because you’re still the same arrogant prick you were when I first met you.”

“And you’re still—!”

“Go ahead and say it James. I won’t break!”

We were shouting. He was in front of me and the tension in him was aimed straight at me, coiled so tightly I thought he’d explode and I wouldn’t escape the burn. I was too wound up to care.

“I knew it! You love taking the moral high ground yet you can’t be honest and—”

“You’re still the woman I want to fuck the second she comes into a room!” he shouted over me. “The woman who occupies my thoughts and my dreams. I want you more than I did when I first met you, more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. Is
that
honest enough for you, Paisley?”

I gaped at him, my breathing on hold while his words roared in my ears. He stared right back, face flushed and eyes hot.

I had once been empowered by rage, a vengeful tsunami who destroyed everything in her path. Now I was at the receiving end of another kind of wave, one that was even more powerful. One that was pushing me to the edge of the cliff. I teetered over craggy rocks and deep crevasses. Fragile and afraid. Unsure if I should jump or run as fast as I could.

I didn’t get to decide. The wave crashed into me, knocking me off my feet and hurtling me into the sea. No lifeboat or safety jacket to keep me afloat. Only James, his hand outstretched as it had been the day we met, reaching out across a sea of difference. His eyes caught and held mine, a forest of dark green lit with fires of gold.

<<
Mine
.>>

No confusion and no denial.

The air between us charged and thickened. It shimmered over my skin like a whisper. A benediction, a sparkling current of desire that flowed to every angle and curve in my body.

Oh no, this was bad, bad, bad.

The warning bells, they were a-ringing, but so was my body and its chimes were much louder. I was wired, still reeling from the party and our shouting match, and now he’d turned me upside down with his passionate, unexpected declaration.

Maybe I was confused by his wonky temperature gauge. I’d had no other inkling he cared about me, wanted me or—

Liar!
my mind shrieked.
You knew he wanted you.
You’ve always known he wants you even without being able to read him.
And you suspected he’d started caring for you more deeply but you preferred to play stupid.
You didn’t want to see it because then you’d feel worse about lying to him.
You’re a fucking coward who refuses to tell him the truth about his own son!

My eyes widened in panic. James was coming closer and I didn’t know what to do or how to respond. I had to rewind, go back to somewhere and something I could handle.

Like sex in a dark room?
That’s more your comfort zone
,
isn’t it?
my mind sneered.

Oh crap!

I edged backward and James followed, tracking my every step until my back reached the wall. I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay counsellor, you win the heated outburst competition,” I said, desperate for him to forget his reluctant attraction.

He flattened his hands against the wall on either side of my body. “Neither forgettable nor reluctant,” he said, reading my thoughts.

Overpowered and drenched in James’s potent masculinity I needed to say something, anything to push him away. “I ruined your wedding, remember? Had sex with you in Caroline’s bed and—” Oh crap, bad move. James lowered his head to mine.

“I remember,” he said thickly. “Every night.”

Oh, God. “You’re overbearing, arrogant and—” I dropped my eyes to his mouth, “—you don’t like me.”

His sexy smile hiked my internal mercury up a few more notches. “I like you, Paisley, very much.”

“But I ruined your life and I’m in your face all the time, a walking, talking reminder of the past. I’m impulsive and impatient and—”

“And you’re smart and funny and frank,” he said. “And for the record, you didn’t ruin my life. You made me a father, gave me the person I love most in the world and enhanced my life in a way I’d never imagined possible.”

By lying to him!
my mind shouted
.

James’s deep voice sent its low vibration across my trembling body. “I like the way you blush,” he said, low in his throat.

Not a single centimetre of our skin was touching and yet I was so turned on I could barely think straight, unlike James. His brain sprinted down a linear path that ended with
naked
and
bed
and
sex
.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I tried to ignore the animal heat from his body, the smell of testosterone and musk that enveloped me like a mantle. “You’re tired from driving and you’re confused...or just plain horny.”

“I’m not confused but I’m definitely horny.”

Two hot hands rested on my hips, keeping them in place. Oh yes, I recognised this James, seductive and determined. For a second I thought he was going to kiss me and I tensed, inhaling sharply when his lips brushed the soft spot behind my ear. Then he was telling me exactly how horny he was and what he wanted to do about it and my head was arching back to accept the heated kiss on my throbbing pulse.

Tiny tremors of arousal made my skin tingle and my nipples ache for his mouth. Weakly, I pushed at his hard, muscular chest—a mistake in the “ignore virile man bent on sex” plan, let me tell you, because the next thing I knew his firm, confident lips were on mine.

Pleasure spread through me like acid bliss, erasing everything except the feel of James’s lips and his arms around my body. He tasted of heat and longing, a powerful elixir shooting straight into my veins, overcoming my efforts to resist. I sank into him, my hands threading through thick, silky hair to pull him closer.

How many lonely nights had I dreamed of the time we’d spent together, thinking it would never happen again? But this was no dream; this was James showing me he wanted me, crushing my soft curves against his hard ridges until I was dizzy, drunk on his taste and high on his touch. I had no right to his passion but I craved it all the same. This was the one addiction I didn’t want to deny myself tonight.

James fed me his breath, saturated me with his desire. We were connected, entrenched, flowing into each other effortlessly. I gasped, seeing myself in his mind: a belligerent teenager he wanted to strangle and kiss; a bitter woman he wanted to berate and make love to.

I didn’t want to see myself through his eyes. I felt like a voyeur but I was fascinated. There I was one night after work, staring at the view, my profile limned by the city lights. I looked immeasurably sad, too absorbed in my thoughts to notice James at the doorway watching me. He wanted to erase my pain.

And he thought I was beautiful, inside and out.

There were too many snapshots of me to count until, finally, I came upon the memory that had haunted him for years: my tearful, bruised face in the bridal suite, looking up at him as if my world were ending.

Why did I still feel the same?

I had to break off our kiss; I was dizzy and drowning, getting swept away by the force of his desire. I tensed but James held me prisoner, kissing me more deeply and demanding my response. His erection pressed into me, so close and so hot.

I jumped away, trying to hold on to my sanity. “Wait...time out.”

His response was half guttural, half gasp. “Seven years isn’t enough?”

“Not for what I have to tell you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Old Habits Die Hard

James caught me by the waist. “Tell me lies, Paisley,” he said against my mouth. “Tell me you don’t want me, that you don’t remember how it was between us.” His hand cupped my breast, moulding to the swell and resting over my pounding heart. His smile pressed into my cheek. “Tell me your heart isn’t beating faster because of me, that you don’t want this as much as I do.”

“I can’t,” I admitted. “But we can’t do this.”

“Is it because of Tarzan?” James said, suddenly still. “Are you lovers?”

“No, Tarzan’s like a brother. I...uhm...haven’t had sex for a long time.”

James gave me the most carnally charged look I’d ever seen. “Neither have I.”

He pushed his hips into mine, showing me what he had to offer. I thrilled at the pressure of his rock solid cock, remembering the feel of him surging inside me. The air was thick with his scent and I wondered how long it had been since he’d had sex.

“Two years give or take,” he said.

“Try seven.”

James froze and so did I. Oh crap and double crap! I hadn’t meant to say that! What kind of healthy, no-nonsense woman doesn’t have sex for so many years? Gets condoms and tries to do the deed only to shy away because she has the freaky ability to read her would-be lover’s thoughts?

Telling James I preferred my vibrator to the real deal because it didn’t have a brain wasn’t an option. Burning embarrassment heated my face until I was sure my skin was as red as my dress. James was delighted at my confession though. No doubt about it, he was a primitive beast where I was concerned.

James had been turned on before but now he was inflamed, desperate to bury himself inside me and relearn the contours of my most intimate parts. Fragile red crepe tore as he pulled my straps down. For a few panting seconds he stared at my breasts, then his mouth was on me, sucking my nipple so hard I moaned and pulled him closer. My body thrilled at his touch, sensual and slow building to hungry and demanding.

We were lost in flames, overpowered by heat. Would I melt, sink into the wall so that my body was outlined in terracotta? Or would I evaporate, escape into molecules of steam that left a faint lustre where I used to be? James held me tightly, moulding me to
him
and making sure I did neither.

“Wait,” I breathed.

His voice was raspy, as if it had been dragged through the sandy beach below. “I’m not waiting any longer.”

Bare bones and straight talking, just the way I liked, but I couldn’t do the same. My mind yelled at me that
this
was the moment to tell James the truth. I didn’t want to listen, not when what I now knew I had wanted for so long was mine for the taking. I could feel James growing stiffer, longer, and the thought that I could take him inside me wrung a whimper from my throat. He slipped his hand under my skirt and found me, wet and ready.

My pleasure was intense but guilt was fast overtaking the ecstasy. At eighteen I had made the wrong choices, giving in to my desires without a thought for James, and here I was about to do the same. Once again I had a choice, and if I didn’t make the right one it would be just as bad as before.

Worse!
my mind screamed.

I dug my nails into his neck, taking my tormented emotions out on his skin. My conscience could go screw itself because I was going to screw James. Full stop and end of story. I’d suffered enough so I should be allowed some happiness, shouldn’t I? Besides, nothing would be gained from telling him the truth.

You can’t do this!
my mind shouted.

I tuned her out. My decision was made and that was that.

James hitched my thighs around his waist and we sank against the wall, our bodies pressed together and our mouths devouring each other’s. He was as magnificent as in my dreams, his cock as long and hard as I remembered.

The voice in my head regrouped and surged, refusing to be ignored, getting louder and louder. I told myself nothing else mattered except here and now and the
zaps
of pain were as intense as my rising pleasure.

Unwilling to let go of the dream, I clung to James and he held me close, murmuring my name like a prayer. He would curse me if he knew what I had done. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I fought a losing battle between truth and guilt. The bottom line was that I wasn’t the old Paisley, guided by selfishness instead of...

Love
, my mind said, so softly I was forced to listen.

The realisation that I loved James hit me like a freight train. It didn’t matter that he was arrogant or high-handed. He was kind. A compassionate, tender man who was protective. Some people might scoff at those qualities ranking highest on my list, but I knew their value more than others.

James was a man with strong principles and the sort of integrity I admired, a man who strived to do the right thing no matter the circumstances. Of course it helped he was built like Beckham. He switched all my buttons on and—

Oh God. I
loved
James. Desperately and passionately...

And hopelessly.

No! I could have everything I wanted: a life with James and Ryan. They would never know the secret I kept, never be hurt by what I had done and I could... I could...

You could become Caroline
, my mind said.

I could ignore what I had done and slowly rot under the weight of self-delusion. I broke off and sucked in an agonised breath. It took every ounce of willpower I had left to give James what he deserved. The truth is that love gave me the strength to do what was right.

I wrenched my mouth away. “You’re not Ryan’s father,” I said. “I lied at your wedding.”

James regarded me, bemused but still holding me close. I had his full attention. “Ryan’s biological father is called Alex Novak, a man I knew in Brighton. We fooled around and I got pregnant before I slept with you.”

The haze of desire cleared from James’s face. He stared at me, shaking his head as if he expected me to admit that I was joking.

“What are you talking about?”

My voice was stronger than I’d thought possible. “You took my virginity in Caroline’s bed but I was already pregnant, impossible as that may seem.”

I told him everything. My five minute tryst with Alex and how I came to be pregnant while still a virgin. James backed away but I wasn’t stupid enough to follow. He stood by the old sofa, rigid as I told him of the positive pregnancy test and my panic because of it, of my desire for him and the drunken decision to declare him the father of my child.

When I was finished James didn’t say a word, and as the silence lengthened I saw desolation turn his face into a wasteland. It was then that I understood why people did it, why they peppered their apologies with lame excuses and explanations. It was the desperate need to repair the damage they had done, the wish to fit something back together again even as it shattered into a million pieces.

Incoherent excuses came tumbling out of my mouth until my voice trailed away, stuttering to a stop because nothing I could say would ever make up for what I had done. It didn’t look like James registered my presence. His dark skin had gone so grey he could have been carved out of pewter.

“Did you tell me the truth in your letters?” he said.

Yes!
I could say one of my letters had carried the truth years ago only he had refused to read it. If I did that, then maybe he wouldn’t despise me as much. I opened my mouth to lie—and stopped. What was the point of telling him the truth if I lied about everything else?

“No,” I said.

“Then I’m a fool twice over.”

“No!” I said, shaking my head emphatically.

James’s laugh was harsh and ugly. “I should’ve known better than to allow myself to think of you with anything other than contempt. You came back to England to blackmail me, didn’t you? To threaten me with contacting Ryan’s biological father if you didn’t get what you wanted. Everything Caroline said about you was true.”

I didn’t meet his eyes because, well, the thought of threatening him
had
occurred to me. What can I say? I was frustrated and angry at the time but I had discarded the idea immediately. I’d told myself it was because I didn’t want to hurt Ryan and that was true, but it was also true that I hadn’t wanted to confess my lie—least of all to James.

I must have looked guilty as hell because James’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“Okay,” I confessed. “Maybe I did think about it but I didn’t do it. I decided to come back to the UK and—”

“And fuck me instead,” he said softly. “Then you were going to blackmail me with the truth. Because you’re a psychotic, perverse little bitch, aren’t you? Just like Caroline.”

“No, of course not! And I won’t contact Alex either,” I said, wanting to reassure him. “
You’re
Ryan’s father—nothing has changed.”

“Nothing has changed?” he said furiously. “That’s certainly true as far as you’re concerned. You’re still a conniving liar who gets her kicks out of manipulating me, biding your time so you can gloat. Congratulations, Paisley, this performance was better than the one at my wedding. A brilliant encore I’ll leave you to savour as far away from Ryan and me as possible.”

I stared at him in dismay, shaking my head as if the action would somehow make him believe me.

“Have you thought for one instant about Ryan?” he snarled. “He’s already growing up without a mother but to take away the only father he’s ever known—”

“Of course I have,” I said. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you!”

Aggression swirled around James, dark currents that made my scalp tingle in alarm. He was holding on to his control by the barest of threads, his expression a mixture of loathing and passion. But it wasn’t the passion you read about in books or the kind you dream about at night. It was the kind that precedes life imprisonment.

I had to keep my cool, as I used to when my father was lost in rage. I didn’t believe James would hurt me, at least I hoped not, but I’d never seen him like this and it scared me. Even so I wanted to touch him, hold him, make him forgive me. I took a step and stopped when he retreated as if he didn’t trust himself not to lash out.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I said, flinching as soon as the words were out.

What the hell was wrong with me? I had just uttered the lamest, stupidest words in the English language. James obviously thought so too. His lips twisted into a sneer, an expression I’d never seen on him before.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me how
sorry
you are and how much you care about me.” His hands clenched into fists. “The only person you care about is yourself. Not Ryan and certainly not me.”

“I love Ryan and I-I
do
care about you!” I cried. “I’ve never opened myself to another man before or felt this way about anybody else.”

James wasn’t in listening mode; he had suppressed his rage but maybe not for long. Caroline’s lies about me were uppermost in his thoughts and he was finding them more credible with every second that passed. My revelation had proven her right.

No
frickin’
way. I had to make him understand how much he meant to me.

I smiled tremulously. “I’ve felt drawn to you since the first day I met you, connected somehow. I think you felt the same. You took my virginity. You were my first.”

“I think I paid a high enough price for the privilege, don’t you?” he said bitterly, taking out his wallet. “How much for tonight?”

I gasped, sucking in air too heavy to breathe. A sharp, crackling pain hit me in the chest. It radiated through my body until it felt as if even my veins sizzled from the brutal shock of his thoughts. It was a different kind of lightning, one you don’t die from but one that cripples you for life.

Maybe I should have railed at him for the insult but all I did was shake my head mutely. He shrugged and I slumped against the wall, too numb to do anything but watch him readjust his clothing and listen as he phoned a taxi. My body alternated between cold and hot while I desperately tried to think of a way to make him forgive me.

“I’m in luck,” he said. “There’s a taxi two minutes away.”

“What I did to you was terrible and you didn’t deserve it. But I’m not that person anymore,” I said, putting every ounce of truth into my words. “I came back a changed woman!”

James stopped buckling his belt to look at me. “So when were you going to tell me I’m not Ryan’s father?”

Oh no
. I shut my eyes, bowing my head under the weight of his stare. When I heard the sharp intake of his breath I bit my lip so hard it bled.

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” he said. “Had I read your letters and given in to your demands I would have remained none the wiser.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you or Ryan.”

“I don’t want to hear your lies,” he answered, voice breaking.

A car pulled up and beeped its horn. I held up my torn bodice with a trembling hand, begging him with my eyes to allow me to stay. James raked his gaze over my torso, took off his shirt and thrust it at me. I reached my hand out and for a moment I thought he’d take it to hurl me out of the house.

Out of his life.

The wad of euros he took out was for the taxi fare but I felt sleazy all the same and didn’t take it, stumbling to the door and hoping he would pull me back. When I got there I turned around. James was on the sofa, hunched over and body shaking.

I’m in no way sexist but for me there’s something shattering about seeing a strong, masculine man cry—not the light dampness that sticks his lashes together and makes his eyes glisten with emotion but real, painful tears of inconsolable sorrow. Tears that wrack his frame and leave him raw and broken.

“I love you, James,” I said. “I think I always have except I didn’t know it until now. That’s why I had to tell you the truth.”

“Get out.”

In his voice there was a ragged, implacable tone I’d never heard before. “No phone calls or texts and no stalking or I’ll prosecute you all the way to hell. Ryan is
my
son. If you or Alex Novak so much as try to contact to him you’ll regret it.”