Losing You (Stars On Fire Book 4) (20 page)

He’d ignored it . . . until yesterday. And in a huge way.

Marc had to get rid of this crutch once and for all.

When he finally arrived at the airport, he had about forty-five minutes to get his ticket, check his luggage, and get through security. Plus, he needed to make a phone call. He needed a person who’d understand the place he was in.

Pulling his big suitcase out of the trunk as well as his shoulder bags, Marc was off to the races. He hit the call button and put the phone to his ear while he navigated around all the people saying goodbye to their loved ones.

“Hello?” Mia’s worried voice hit his ear.

“Mia. It’s Marc,” he announced, picking up his pace. He needed to get inside. The blare of horns echoed in the covered drop off zone making it difficult to hear his friend.

“Marc, where are you? It’s so fucking loud I can barely hear you.”

“I’m at O’Hare.”

“Why are you there?” she asked.

“Trying to make this flight to L.A.”

“So, if that’s what you’re doing, why are you on the phone with me?” she said with a soft laugh.

“I need to call in a favor.”

Her laughter stopped. He could almost picture her face as the realization dawned on her. “Marc . . . what’s going on?”

Finally, he made it inside, his eyes scanning the boards, trying to find out where to go before her answered her. When he was off in the right direction, he spoke. “I made a big mistake this weekend,” he admitted to her.
Big was definitely an understatement
, he thought with a slight shake of his head. The biggest fucking mistake of his life.

“What kind of mistake, Marc? Talk to me,” she pleaded.

With an exhale of breath, he spoke. “I, uh . . . Lizzie found me shooting up.”

“Shooting up? As in?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Mia.”

She’d been at those parties. She’d seen it. She knew.

“Shit, Marc!”

“Yeah . . .”

“Why the hell are you going to L.A. then?”

“Rehab. I need to get out of here,” he said, not hiding the desperation he felt.

“What’s the favor?” she asked. He made the right choice in calling Mia and not his brother. Mia understood.

“I need you to be my contact, my person.”

“What? Why me?”

“You’re the only one I’ve told.”

“Why not Lizzie?”

Because he wanted her far, far away from this drama. He didn’t want her to know this, see this part of him.

“She’s pure, Mia. I can’t soil her with this.”

“Marc—” she protested.

“I don’t want her to know where I am or what I’m doing,” he said, almost in a shout.

“What about Tom?” she ventured.

What about Tom? He’d considered telling him but he couldn’t. “Don’t tell him either. He’ll just tell her,” Marc said. He looked up and saw how little time he had to get through security and to his flight . . . he was screwed unless he got lucky. “Fuck, Mia. I have to hang up. I’ll text you the info later.”

“No, Marc—” she screamed.

“Love you, baby girl,” he said and hung up as he stepped up to the ticket counter.

“Where to?” the lady behind the counter asked.

“Los Angeles,” he said, handing over his printed itinerary.

Tom

May 19, 2008

What a shitty fucking weekend
, Tom thought as he drove down Armitage on his way to Mia’s. He’d canceled every date he’d had with her so he could help Lizzie. It’d been almost a week since he’d last seen Mia. He needed her, needed her to wrap him in her arms while he rested his head on her chest, letting the beat of her heart give him the strength he needed.

Because he needed strength right now.

Not being able to help Lizzie like he’d wanted was draining. They still had no clue where Marc was. Tom was worried about that too. He’d reached out to everyone he could think of. Nothing. Not one lead.

He needed his baby girl. He needed that one good thing in his life. Mia. The woman who let him be himself with her, who let him take care of her, who made him laugh, who made him hard as fuck with just one look at her.

Tom had a feeling that’s how it’d be today. That he’d be inside of her before he even got a word out. He needed to make love to her, bury himself inside her body, letting her heal him.

Parking the truck in front of her house, he grabbed the bouquet of gerbera daisies he’d picked up at the florist a few doors down from his shop. When he opened the door, Mia stood there waiting for him, an expression he couldn’t read on her face.

He stopped, unsure of how to proceed until he remembered the flowers and held them out to her. That gorgeous head of hers tilted to the side and a warm smile teased her lips. Then her arms opened up to him.

With a thankful sigh, he enfolded his girl in his embrace.

Kicking the door shut, Tom backed her towards the stairs. His hands skimmed down her torso to her waist, then he lifted her up onto the bottom step, her face now even with his. Her uneven breathing captured his attention, especially the lips the air passed through. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. A final shaky breath passed through her lips before she kissed him back.

Her grip around his neck tightened when his fingers slid under her shirt and danced up her sides to her breasts. He lifted them up in his hands and squeezed and the sweetest moan fell out of her mouth.

Fuck, he loved those noises.

After lifting the shirt over her chest, he pushed the bra cups out of the way and attacked those perfect globes, using his mouth and teeth to keep those noises flowing out of her. When her hips started rocking into him, he lifted her and she hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock was right where it wanted to be.

Well . . . almost.

Hurrying up the stairs with Mia in his arms, she attacked his neck with her lips. He almost set her down on the stairs and fucked her right there, but he wanted to do this right. Once in her bedroom, he set her on the bed and tore off her clothes, letting them fly as he exposed more and more skin for his mouth to explore.

He wanted to devour her, but he also wanted to love her . . . worship her . . . slowly. Thoroughly.

With a deep calming breath, Tom ran his hands up the outside of her legs, skimming the lines made where her hips met her thighs, making her entire body shiver. When he pushed her long limbs apart, he wasted no time in tasting her, running the flat of his tongue over her opening. On the swipe back, his tongue darted inside, her arousal enveloping every tastebud he had. Nothing fucking like it.

While his mouth worked her, one of his hands traveled up the flat expanse of her stomach to the most perfect tits he’d ever seen. She groaned and threw her head back so he couldn’t see her beautiful face. Tom needed that face.

He stood up and discarded his clothes, then leaned down to hover over her, his dick waiting patiently to get inside. Grabbing on to her pouty lower lip with his teeth, he pushed inside of her. Their moans mingled together as he slowly thrust into her, that pussy of hers knowing just how to hug his cock.

A smile tugged his mouth when her eyes opened and stayed on his as he made love to her. They really hadn’t done this. Their lovemaking was often rough, always frantic, not this sweet and slow pace they had now, her hips answering each of his thrusts.

Sliding his hand between them, Tom found the hard flesh above her opening and set about making his girl come. And when she did, he captured her sweet noises with his mouth. As she came down from her orgasm, he concentrated on his own. Her name fell from his lips as he filled her—the first word spoken between them that night.

Mia’s lips fell from his, her head falling to the side. He felt her body shrink into itself as she tensed up.

“Oh God!” she cried, her hands to his chest pushing him away. “I can’t. Not anymore.”

Tom fell back and stared at her, at the tears running down her face, then watched her as she scrambled away from him. His shock held him in place and when he finally stood up, he found her on the other side of the bed, the throw from the chair covering her nudity. He had no idea what was going on, what was causing her to act like this, so Tom proceeded cautiously. “What’s wrong, Mia?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” she repeated, as her eyes closed and she shook her head from side to side.

“Do what, baby girl?” he asked, moving towards her.

“You’re not Ethan,” she exclaimed.

“I know.”

Her face crumpled into fresh tears as she spoke. “I tried so hard to forget him, but I can’t. He’s always here,” she cried, tapping her chest.

His heart dropped out of his chest in realization. She still loved Ethan. “You told me you loved me,” he accused, his eyes tightening in anger.

“I do, Tom,” she exclaimed, reaching for his hand. “I do . . . but not in the way I love Ethan.”

Goddammit!
He yanked his hand back and pulled away from her then went about searching for his clothes. Where the fuck were his pants?

“Not enough,” he murmured, his hands clenching the shirt he just picked up. Never fucking enough.

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she carried on. “I hoped he would go away, that I could forget him, but I can’t, and that isn’t fair to you. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“Mia, that isn’t something you get to decide,” Tom said, moving in on her. He needed to fight for her—he couldn’t just give her up. Dropping his shirt, he grabbed her arms with enough force to lift her, the blanket covering her falling to the floor. When he got in her face, Mia turned her head away.

No—she would see him.

“Fuck,” he growled and wrapped his hands around her biceps before lifting her up and stalking over to the bed. After tossing her on the bed, he quickly followed, his weight holding her in place, his hand gripping her face, forcing her to see him. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Stubbornly jutting out her chin, she locked her defiant eyes on him. “You know the times you haven’t been here, I’ve been either high or drunk. You deserve more than my baggage, Tom. There’s a lot of baggage.”

He loosened his hold and kissed her forehead. The baggage he knew about, though it had been hidden in the closet. He hadn’t seen it. And if it wasn’t staring him in the face, it was easy to ignore. “Mia, I know,” he said, trailing his lips down the edge of her face, repeating his words, hoping she would hear him. “I know. Let me help you. That’s all you have to do.”

She closed her eyes and repeatedly shook her head. “This entire time I’ve used you to forget Ethan. I drowned him out by fucking you.”

At the beginning, Tom had sensed that, but again he’d ignored it. He finally had Mia. And he didn’t want to lose her right now. He continued kissing her face, soft, reassuring pecks until he reached her lips.

“Final nail in the coffin,” she spoke. “I know where Marc is,” she quietly admitted.

His mouth froze near hers.

She what?

He stared at her in disbelief, his anger quickly rising. “What?” Tom roared and jumped off of her. Pacing back and forth in front of the bed, he tried to take a moment to collect his thoughts, not believing what he just heard. “You knew I was looking for him. You knew the pain Lizzie was going through.”

“He’s safe,” she claimed. “He’s in rehab and doesn’t want to be found.”

“Does his brother know?” he asked because wouldn’t that just suck if Clark knew and hadn’t told Lizzie?

Mia pushed herself up, leaning back on her elbows, before shaking her head at him.

“Why you?” he demanded, needing to understand why Marc chose to tell her and not his own girlfriend or him. “Why wouldn’t he tell Lizzie? Or Clark?”

“This is bigger than Lizzie.”

“Goddammit, Mia. She’s a fucking mess. She doesn’t know a thing, doesn’t understand why he left like this.”

“Tell her what I’ve said, that he loves her. But for now that’s all I can say until Marc says otherwise. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Locating his shirt again, he picked it up and pulled it down over his head. Then he leveled his gaze on her, wanting her to see the hurt, not caring one bit if she did. “I can’t fucking believe this. This night was supposed to end so differently.”

She rose from the bed and even in his anger, he still found that naked body so fucking beautiful. “I’m sorry, Tom,” she said, her voice full of regret.

“Stop! Stop fucking saying that!” he screamed. It was fucking over. God fucking dammit! He dragged his hand over his head and took a deep breath to calm himself down before he did something he knew he’d regret. “Don’t be sorry. Make this fucking worth it, Mia. I want you happy. I always have. So get him back.”

When she reached him, she simply stood in front of him, her hands hanging by her side, her head down, still submissive to him, waiting for him, even after she ended things.

“Tom . . .”

He put an arm around her, pulling her to him. With the other, he secured her to him, feeling her body against his. Her arms snaked around his neck, holding him just as tight, maybe even tighter.

And his damn dick had a mind of its fucking own. His hard-on felt so good nestled between the two of them. He needed some distance between them otherwise he’d break and fuck her.