Endless Love by Bianca Borell

Chapter Sixteen

BRIA

We land in London, where two black SUVs wait to transport Sophia, Alex, Sarah, and Filip and our parents and Quinn. After we agree on meeting tomorrow morning, we say our goodbyes, and hand in hand, we make our way to Damien’s car. Being here again with him is both strange and exhilarating.

My fingers tighten around his as he squeezes mine. Damien seeks my eyes, sensing my inner turmoil as I fight to understand what’s going on inside me.

“It feels strange, doesn’t it?”

My voice trembles when I answer, “Yes, it does.”

“Maybe we will finally be able to put the past behind us.”

Damien grabs my hand in his, kisses each finger, pushing my unease away, allowing butterflies to take their place.

“I’m nervous, but in a good way. I wanted to visit our flat over the years, but that would have meant a wrenching confrontation with you.” He pauses at the passenger door and shuts his eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Bria, if I had the slightest idea . . .”

“I know, stop it. We aren’t those people anymore.”

He drives and drives, either to reminisce about every place that held meaning for us or just to enjoy the rightness of us being together and here again. I take it all in—the masses of people lost in their thoughts, strolling from one place to another. The buildings encompassing the past and the future. And the Thames that holds my heart in its depths. I roll down the window and inhale the light breeze while rain drops land on my skin.

My body comes to life when Damien takes the turn onto the most familiar road of all—one made of dreams and lovers’ promises. After all these years, we’re back. The emotions overwhelm me as I crane my neck to the modern glass building. We step inside to spotless white walls as we wait for the elevator to take us to our penthouse. When the doors ding open, emotions run rampant inside me.

“I have you, baby. I will always have you.”

“It’s just . . . it feels like too much of something. I don’t know if it’s good or bad.” His arms wrap around my waist, and I lift my gaze to him as he offers a slight smile.

“It’s neither. There’s nothing bad in there, just our first home, a reminder of two stubbornly-in-love-almost-adults. It’s us from another time. It might be and feel different, but within its walls, it keeps our love safe from the outside.”

His words touch a chord deep inside me. He’s right. This is one of the few places where our love lives on vividly.

As we walk through the elevator doors, my fear ebbs away, curiosity and excitement replacing it. I can’t wait to get inside.

The door opens, and my mouth gapes. Everything is exactly the same as I left it. It doesn’t appear old. It’s as if time stood still. Like in a trance, a portal through time opens right in front of my eyes, and two younger versions of us chase each other in the spacious and open living room, laughter echoing through the huge glass windows as the sun made its rays dance for us.

I point to the mustard-colored couch. We plop down, both silent, going further down memory lane as his arms come around me.

I turn in his lap and kiss him. I taste, tease, and bite his full lips, his tongue tracing mine. I free fall in desire, and nothing else matters, just us. When I end the kiss, we both pant. He cups my face with his hands, his heated gaze telling me more than his words ever could.

“Now I understand why this place never felt the same again. You were missing.” I lay my forehead on his and plant my hands on his chest, savoring the intimate silence.

Damien grabs my hand, and we rediscover our home. We pass the wall full of pictures, memories kissed by love as I count every one of the sixty-two pictures. I chose this wall because it led to our bedroom. Even then I had a plan, and that included love. How can anyone forget when having to pass so many love and happiness filled reminders?

Our bedroom, the room where we spent many nights making love and sleeping peacefully, opens in front of me. A rush of emotions chooses this moment to make an appearance as tears gather in my eyes.

“I hate to see you cry.”

“I’m okay.”

He cradles my face, raining kisses down my cheeks and lips.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll just bring our luggage inside.”

When Damien returns, we make quick work of putting everything in our dressing room and take a bath.

The bubbles surround us, and the warm water relaxes every single muscle in my body as I moan in absolute delight. Damien slides behind me. His touch sets my skin aflame. With every caress, he brings my desire for him a step further.

We half dry each other and drop on the bed, an entangled mess of pure want.

This time our lovemaking is different like we have to prove something. It’s basic and primal, the need to claim and mark. I let him be the one in command, the one to set the pace, and the one to bring me to the pinnacle of pleasure. His fingers burrow into my skin, and his mouth nips from my neck down my shoulder. The combination of his fingers spreading my thighs, sliding in and out of me, and his lips on me turn me into a craving, aching, and pleasure-needing woman. Our moans ring loud, full of desire. There’s no need for words as Damien and I give in to raw carnality as we ravish each other.

When we come down, we both crash on the mattress.

We re-claimed our right to be here in this place and stopped mourning what we lost.

“It was . . .” he starts, but I rush to fill in the gap.

“Unbelievable, surreal, earth-shattering, life-altering.” He chuckles and cups my face to his.

“Yes, Bria, those and so much more.”

“I don’t feel my body.”

He presses me to his chest, whispering, “Are you sore, baby? Should I kiss it away?”

He has no shame. I poke the tip of my tongue out, and he sucks it into his mouth, and through kisses, he says, “It’s mine, anyway. What better place than in my mouth, hmm?”

“Damien.”

“Well, baby, you’re the one offering.”

He props on his elbows, lying naked with only the sheet covering his lower body, caressing me. The visual does funny things to my heart.

“You undo me when you look at me. I can’t wait for you to be mine officially. Maybe then I’ll ease up, Mrs. Du Sky.” My heart does a flip-flop at him calling me this.

“Not yet.”

“But soon enough, thankfully,” he says and crosses his hands behind his head.

I turn on one side, facing him and ask, “Are we crazy? It’s in less than a month. What if . . .?”

“With our mothers and Sarah?”

His argument is valid enough. Yes, I have nothing to worry about.

“Cold feet yet?” I ask, chewing my lower lip, and his eyebrows knit.

“Bria, should I worry I fucked you into irrationality?”

I burst into laughter, and he joins me. He wraps me to him. I have everything my heart desires.

“What should we do for the rest of the day?”

“Just lie here and forget about the world?”

“That’s a hard one to top.”

“You realize tomorrow will be an exhausting day? Poor baby, I can’t imagine how tedious it might get to shop for a wedding dress.” I grip his chin between my thumb and forefinger and shake him.

“Damien, don’t make fun of me finding my wedding dress.”

I climb out of bed and parade naked in front of him. Whatever he would have said next dies on his lips as his entire demeanor changes. His gaze turns darker, and his eyes burn with promise. I love the effect I have on him.

Goal accomplished. I sway into the dressing room and chuckle at hearing him groan.

“You’re not serious right now?”

“We spent enough time in bed. I miss London. So, hop up.”

I turn my head and watch him, his back leaning against the bed frame, lost in thoughts. I grasp he’s not happy with the prospect. He might want to keep me here, secluded, and remembering only the happy times and memories we made together. On the one hand, I find it ridiculously sweet, but on the other, hypocritical.

For him, it was seven years spent in a rush, in warm bodies in which he’d find a quick release and years when he matured and became not only a strong man but also a respected businessman. A sigh parts my lips at how he wants to shield me from this part of his life when he indulged himself in activities that kept him afloat while I sank into darkness and illness. It was his coping mechanism. I can’t ease him, it is his road to walk and find redemption, but at the end, I will wait with outstretched arms for him. His sad face calls to me. I put one of his shirts on and walk toward him.

“Stop tormenting yourself over things we can’t change. You don’t owe me anything.” His eyes shut, closing off all the misery I just glimpsed, and he fists the sheet.

“You’re wrong. I owe you everything. London was my playground. On every corner is a shadow of my past that will try to lure you in and hurt you.” He drags a hand through his hair, and when his eyes land on me, he says, “I can’t protect you from it. Like a sucker for pain, you crave it. You know what I’m talking about, and still, your curiosity is greater than your self-preservation.”

Yes, but the words my brother said to me about ignoring push me further. We have to overcome all the worry, the doubts, the decisions of the past. It’s another step toward healing and putting the past behind us. I am ready to confront whatever crosses my path.

“You either come with me, and we’ll face it together, or you stay here like a coward and let it linger between us.”

“So brave, Bria, like a soldier when faced with death, thinks he will die a hero believing in leaving behind a better place because of his sacrifice.”

His intensity sends chills through me. He’s not happy with my decision, but he just has to suck it up. I stomp back to the dressing room and put on a pair of slim jeans, a patterned cream and brown sweater that hangs loosely over my hips, and ankle boots. I tie my hair in a bun and wrap a scarf around my neck. Heavy steps approach, and although I knew he’d eventually give in, the relief undoes me. I raise my eyes to him standing in the middle of the doorway.

“You look beautiful.”

These three words light me up and make my day. I have never considered myself a fan of compliments, but when the man of my dreams looks at me lost in adoration and says them, that’s something else. I stare at his naked, ripped body and his flexed muscles, captivated by the sight as he poses with no shame.

“Like what you see, baby? Did I interrupt your gawking?”

His grin turns to mischievous. He is infuriatingly cocky, but I love this side of him. Damien is carnal and unapologetic when it comes to nudity. I point a finger at him and say, “Although your attempt at enticing me has its appeal, I won’t change my mind.”

I mean, it wouldn’t be that hard to distract me, so I rush out as Damien throws his head back and laughs, his perfect set of white teeth flashing at me.

“If you come out of that room naked, I will put you on a sex-free diet until our wedding. How is that for fair play?” I threaten over my shoulder, and he backtracks.

“There’s no need to take such drastic measures. I’m only human.”

“There’s still your hand.”

“Bria.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” I say in a faux understanding.

“Better.” He grins and turns around.

I slide the door to the terrace open and step over the frame, my eyes wandering. Moments later, his cologne invades my nostrils—musky, and spice notes mixed with his natural scent. I turn to him, and he makes business casual look like a fashion show. He wears dark blue jeans, an immaculate white shirt, and a navy sport coat clinging perfectly on his broad chest and shoulders. I’m sure he’d have made an exquisite cover model.

Before we leave, I pick up my purse while he makes the reservation. I grip my phone, and the urge to keep and capture this moment assaults me as I snap a selfie of us.