Ruthless In A Suit: Book Three Part 3

I shrug. "A variety of places. I endowed a scholarship. I put a lot of it towards building the new firm. There's a small foundation that pays for a lot of the pro bono clients that come through. I gave to quite a few charities."

"And left yourself with?"

"My salary at Cabot Ess.e.x Maxon and the building that houses it. That's pretty much it." I shrug, leaving off the fact that it took a lot of convincing to get my financial planners to realize I wasn't losing my mind or the victim of a brain tumor, and that yes, I really did want to get rid of it all, and no, I wasn't interested in a tax shelter or other offsh.o.r.e accounts of any kind.

Which, by the way, I discovered was my father's specialty, and untangling all of those after inheriting the estate took weeks and quite a lot of doing. Turns out giving away money is a lot harder than I antic.i.p.ated, and required that I pay an awful lot of it to people who absolutely didn't want to do it.

"And how does it feel to be poor?" She asks. She's awfully feisty tonight, definitely not into taking any s.h.i.t from me, or letting any s.h.i.t slide.

I like it. I like her.

"I'm hardly poor," I tell her. "Despite my lack of stock options and bonuses, I still have a pretty nice salary. Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to?"

And then the seal is broken. We spend the next hour talking over gla.s.ses of pinot noir and bowls of fresh pasta and braised pork shoulder. She tells me that she's been temping for the last month while she looks for a permanent job, and that she's been surprised to find that she likes administrative work.

"Turns out I thrive on being organized and organizing for other people," she explains between bites of risotto.

"And your art?" I ask, thinking back to the canvas in her apartment.

"Frankly, it's better if my art is separate from my paycheck. It makes it easier to create. To be honest, my painting has never gone better than when I took a seemingly mindless office job. I've been working on a series of little city details. I'm only a few works in, and I'm still getting the feel for it, but I'm happy with the direction."

"I'm glad to hear that," I tell her, and I am.

She tells me that she managed to sc.r.a.pe together the money to move out of her parents' house (with a little bonus money her dad snuck her on the side) about a month after she left Maxon Law. She thought about getting roommates, but she managed to find her tiny studio and loves living alone for the first time in her life.

"It means I can stay up all night at the easel, and no one's there to give me s.h.i.t," she says, and I can just imagine her hands and cheeks streaked with paint, working as the sun rises over the Atlantic.

"Between Oliver and Logan and Julia always around, I'm rarely alone these days," I say. I'm shocked to realize the truth of it. That after she left me, my life suddenly got bigger. Before Cadence, I'd managed to isolate myself almost entirely, both in the office and outside of it. Maybe it was that she'd left a hole I knew I had to fill. Whatever it is, I'm thankful for it, and it's just another reason I have to be grateful to her for precipitating the change. Even though I've been barely three steps above miserable since she left, I can't help but admit that my life has gotten exponentially better than it was before she ever arrived.

We finish the meal with a shared slice of tiramisu; our chairs slid closer, our heads bowed over the rich, sweet cake. All trace of her anger, my misery, or our shared awkwardness seems to have faded away. I have no idea what comes next, but I feel like we're off to a very good start.

When the waitress brings the check, we both reach for it. "Please," I say, pulling it away from her. "I asked you out, so let me pay."

She narrows her eyes at me with a devious grin, but finally acquiesces. "Fine," she says with a carefree shrug. "That seems fair."

I pay the bill, and we make our way out into the autumn evening, which has grown considerably colder since we went into the restaurant. Next to me, Cadence shivers and pulls her jacket around her. Without thinking, I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side to keep he warm. I feel her tense, just for a moment, but then her body seems to unwind and melt against me. It feels familiar in the kind of way that also stings, like rubbing alcohol poured on a wound you're trying to heal. It's helping, but it hurts along the way.

We get to the car, and again I open the pa.s.senger door for her. I hate to let her go so she can get in, but I have to. We can't stand out on the street all night, as much as I'd like to.

And so I climb into the front seat, the question I want to ask on the tip of my tongue, but I'm far too afraid of the answer. Instead, I start the car and start towards her apartment. Because I can't ask for more than what we've had tonight. I shouldn't. I don't deserve it. I should simply bid her goodnight and hope she'll see me again.

I'm halfway down the block when she reaches over and places her hand on my knee, her thumb stroking absentmindedly across my thigh.

I turn to see her looking over at me.

"Maybe back to your place?" she says.

She doesn't have to ask twice. I pause only to pull out my phone and shoot a text to Logan and Julia.

Coming home. GET. OUT.

CADENCE.

I don't know what possesses me to say it.

I know it's exactly the wrong move. But then I have to ask myself, what is the right move exactly?

What am I trying to do? Am I trying to play games with him? Do I want to punish him? Or do I want to be happy? Because at this moment, nothing in the world would make me happier than going back to Levi's place.

I spent so long broken to pieces over the fact that I'd given myself to him, only to find out that our relationship was built on the worst kind of lie. I trusted him, and he shattered that trust beyond what should be able to be repaired.

But once the initial pain of it wore off, I was left with emptiness: over the loss of him, the future I saw, and also the way he made me feel. Literally, I missed the things he did to my body. I'd never experienced anything like it, and I was worried I never would again.

Over the course of our date, which started a little rocky but quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, I realized that even though the premise of a first date was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard, it was working.

Sure, we'd already been engaged. We'd had s.e.x and lots of it. But in sitting at the counter and devouring plates of the best Italian food I'd ever eaten, I was realizing that I never really knew Levi.

Probably because he never really knew himself.

As we talked, I realized that I'd already forgiven him. It was easy to see that he'd suffered, and that he'd changed. He was a different man, and it was clear that this new Levi would never do what the old Levi had done. But it was also clear that while I may have forgiven him, he hadn't forgiven himself. And I'm not sure he ever would, unless I convinced him that he should.

And so, as we started down Congress Street, clearly heading for the Longfellow Bridge and my apartment in Somerville, I knew I had to do something to show him, to convince him that I understand what he's been through.

More than that, I really really like the man he's become.

It also helps that I took one look at him in jeans and a cashmere sweater over a collared shirt, a pair of rugged boots on his feet, looking for all the world like he could pilot a fishing boat and then go brew his own beer, and want nothing more than to jump him.

I want to rip those clothes off him and sink my teeth into those muscles and feel his arms wrapped around me.

He pulls to a stop in front of the limestone mansion, someplace I've been purposefully avoiding since I walked out the first time. Seeing it now brings back a flood of memories, only some of them painful.

We're silent as we climb the stoop and he unlocks the door. Inside, I see the changes almost immediately. The family photos are gone, as are a lot of the expensive, oversized antiques.

The former sitting room has been transformed into a small waiting room, with a few chairs and a table with some magazines. There's a large desk for an a.s.sistant just outside the waiting area, in the foyer, but no nameplate.

The rest of the rooms have been outfitted with doors where there previously were none, I'm a.s.suming to turn them into offices and conference rooms to give their inhabitants privacy.

"I'm on the third floor," he says, and I nod. I follow him up the familiar stairs, but when we get to the third floor, instead of the expansive landing with the fireplace and the leaded gla.s.s windows, we're met with a brand new wall and a front door with a bra.s.s plate that reads "Private Residence" in loopy script. He pulls his keys from his pocket and unlocks the front door, letting me in. "Welcome to my humble abode," he says, almost sheepishly.

I step in to find a beautifully redesigned s.p.a.ce with the site of the landing now a cozy living room. Down the hall, I see one of the bedrooms has been turned into an eat-in kitchen with white tile and cabinets and shiny stainless steel appliances. Further down I suspect I'll find bedrooms, though I remain rooted in my spot, suddenly nervous. So I decide to deflect the only way I know how. By making stupid jokes.

"Humble? Please. Did you see my place? Even the mice are embarra.s.sed to bring guests back there." I laugh at my own joke, which only makes it less funny. When Levi laughs, I suspect it's more kindness than anything else. But still, his accompanying smile calms my nerves.

"It's definitely a drastic change to the property, but really I was only living in like, three rooms of this place anyway. Now I've just relocated them all to the same floor." He gazes around, clearly trying to take it in with new eyes for a moment.

"It's great, Levi. I know it's a giant cliche, but I like what you've done with the place," I tell him, and I mean it.

We both fall silent and suddenly the air feels charged.

Levi looks at me, his eyes dark with a kind of need and longing that makes my belly tighten and my nipples stiffen.

"I'm glad you came back here," he says. "Because everything I did in here, I had you in mind when I did it. All of these changes, every little design, every touch was made because I thought you might like it."

My breath is taken away by this admission. "Levi," I sigh.

"You have no idea what you mean to me, angel," he says, and then he walks closer to me. Now I'm toe to toe with him, gazing up into his eyes. I'd forgotten just how tall he is, and how safe he can make me feel just from looming over me.

"Tell me what I mean to you," I say, needing to hear it said out loud.

"I'm in love with you," he says, and even though I told myself I'd never fall for him again, never trust a word he says-I can't help it.

Somehow I know that it's all true.

His arms go around my waist, and he pulls me to him with impressive force, our mouths meeting in a cataclysm of pa.s.sion. My hands find their way to the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair, which is s.h.a.ggier now.

He kisses me like he's trying to absorb me, inhale me, devour me, and I melt with every touch of his lips or flick of his tongue against mine. When his hands go down to my a.s.s, I practically leap onto him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I can feel his hardness against me. He walks me backwards until my back is against the wall, his mouth still covering mine, and uses it to brace me so he can tug my shirt over my head.

His eyes go straight to my naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I always did love that about you," he growls, dipping his head to take one pebbled nipple into his mouth, nipping the tip with his teeth. I feel warmth and wetness flood through my body, and I grind against him, I want him so bad. I drop my feet to the floor so that I can get a good grip on the hem of his own shirt, tugging until it's free, then letting my hands roam the landscape of his taught, muscled chest. And then, without waiting, I reach for his belt buckle, fumbling, but still making quick work.

"Impatient?" he asks, c.o.c.king an eyebrow.

"You have no idea," I moan. His pants drop to the floor, and he quickly kicks off his boots and jeans until he's completely naked, not a stich of boxers between us. I eye his c.o.c.k, all nine inches of hardness between us. "I always did love that about you," I purr, and then grasp him firmly in my hand.

He closes his eyes for a moment, his head falling back as he groans, then quickly recovers himself, taking control. He removes my jeans in a move so deft as to wonder if there was magic involved. And with just my lace panties between us, he hoists me up to his waist again, my legs wrapped around him, and begins the journey down the hall to his bedroom.

I can't believe that we were actually engaged, and yet this will be the first time we've had s.e.x in his bedroom. The first time in the attic was magical, despite all that came after, and I wouldn't change a thing about it, but something about him taking me to his bed feels delicious.

I barely have time to take in the room before he's falling onto the bed, my back landing on the down comforter with him on top of me, our bodies still entwined, his mouth covering mine. There's no time to talk, which is fine because there's nothing else that needs to be said right now.

There will be plenty of time later for talking.

Levi leaves my lips and begins kissing his way down the peaks and valleys of my body.

He pauses to suck each nipple into his mouth, giving my b.r.e.a.s.t.s firm but careful squeezes that make my toes curl.

Then he begins tracing a path lower, across my abdomen and around my navel, leaving a trail of kisses and tongue, until he's taken the edge of my panties in his teeth. Then he hooks his thumbs in to the fabric at my hips, and just when I think he's going to peel them down, he gives a firm, quick snap, and the fabric tears instantly. The rough groan he lets out is practically animalistic. When I glance down, I see his lips hovering just over my exposed skin. I instinctively part my legs, giving him complete access to the deepest parts of me. He blows a warm, soft breath on my damp flesh that causes me to shudder in a breath, and then, before I can brace myself or prepare, his tongue covers me, parting my lips and sucking hard. I arch my back and cry out, the sensation nearly too much. And I realize what I'm feeling in the moment is the satisfaction of a craving I've been trying to tamp down for months. But nothing not food or fantasy or even my own desperate attempts could replace what Levi Maxon can do to my body.

He sets about pleasuring me like he's on a mission, and I quickly give myself over to him, letting his tongue and lips guide my movements. I'm not sure if it's minutes or hours that pa.s.s, because I've lost all sense of time. My o.r.g.a.s.m feels like it's been building for a lifetime, and as the tension coils within me, he slips first one, then two fingers inside me.

"I'm coming," I manage to shudder out, but he doesn't need to hear it. He knows my body. He can feel it responding to his every move, his every whim. He's in absolute control of me, and with a flick of his tongue, he brings me over the edge until I'm bucking against his lips and crying out with the explosion. He guides me over and down, using his tongue to bring me back to earth, then planting soft, delicate kisses on my c.l.i.t and inner thighs. He stays with me throughout the entire ride, never leaving me, always guiding me.

When my heaving breaths begin to slow, I know what I want. Now it's my turn to take. Or at least to demand.

"I want you," I say, my eyes locking on his. The raw desire between us feels like a living thing, one that should probably be tamed, though we won't take the time to do it. Wild is better, at least with Levi. "I want you now. f.u.c.k me now."

And then he's sliding up the length of my body with ease and grace.

I feel the head of his c.o.c.k brush up against my c.l.i.t, making me gasp in pleasure and beg for him once more. Then he's poised right at my opening, and just when I'm about to grind into him, forcing him to please G.o.d hurry up and get inside me, he drags the head of his c.o.c.k from my c.l.i.t down to my cave and slides in. The full length of him in one delicious movement, and between the wetness of my o.r.g.a.s.m and my raw desire for him, I accept every inch of him readily. I see every muscle in his body tense and shudder with the sensation of being inside me, which is a perfect visual representation of how I feel in this moment. He pauses, completely inside of me. He gazes down at me, our eyes locking. "I never stopped loving you," he says. "And I never will."

The entire world seems to crack open in that moment. Or maybe it disappears. I can't tell. All I know is that right now every part of me feels that love from every part of him.

"I love you," I say, still gazing deep into eyes. "I love you so much, and I never stopped."

And then he begins to move inside me, slow and deliberate, each movement seeming to serve as a reminder of what he said and what he meant. He loves me. He never stopped. He never will.

The only time we break our gaze his when he drops down to kiss me, long and deep, just like his movements. And though I didn't think I could top the o.r.g.a.s.m he just gave me, I can quickly feel another building. Only this one seems to be coming from a different place, fueled by a different fire, because now I know for sure that Levi is the one. I knew it before, and I know it now, even if we had to take a little detour to get here. I was right all along. You'll never have s.e.x like the s.e.x you have with the person you're meant to spend the rest of your life with. I didn't make a mistake before. This is where I belong. Forever.

Levi's movements begin to grow faster, pushing harder, his thrusts becoming more insistent. I match him, grinding into him, reaching down to pull him closer to me. And just as he knew my body, I know his. I can feel his o.r.g.a.s.m rushing towards us like a speeding train, mine accelerating right along with it. Within minutes, we're both crying out, our bodies frantic as we take and take and take.

He collapses on top of me, our breaths heaving in time, our bodies slick with sweat. Despite our exhaustion, we cling to each other, our muscles still taught.

"I meant it," he whispers in my ear, his breath coming in hot blasts against my neck. "I'll never, ever stop loving you."

I give him a little push until he rolls off me, and then I wrap myself around the side of him, his arm around me, my leg thrown over him. And then I gaze up into his eyes. "I tried very hard to stop," I tell him. I feel my voice start to catch, the sadness of what happened hitting me one last time. "I tried so hard. But I couldn't. I couldn't stop loving you."

With his free hand, I feel him reach for something. I hear a drawer slide open, then close again, and then a small velvet box comes into my view.

"Julia told me before our date that I should put this in my pocket," he says, setting the box on his bare chest, right in front of my eyes. "I thought she was crazy. But maybe not. Because I've kept it here, in this drawer by my bed, since the moment I got it back. And though I didn't want to admit it, I knew I was holding it for you. And that I always would. It would be waiting for you, and if you never came, it would wait forever. But you're here, and once again I find myself in this insane situation of doing something impulsive and fast that feels completely right-"

Before he can finish, I'm rolling on top of him, straddling him. I grip his cheeks and plant a kiss right on his lips. "Yes," I say, the box still pressed between us. "If you're asking again, I'm saying yes."

"For the third time?" he asks, and we both laugh. Because yes, for the third time, I'm saying yes to Levi Maxon. And I'll say yes as many times as it takes.

I hold out my hand. "Gimme that ring!" I cry, and he opens the velvet box, removes the ring, and then slides it onto my left hand.

"Cadence Fallon, for the third G.o.dd.a.m.n time, will you please marry me?"

My grin grows, spreading wide until my cheeks ache. "Yes, Levi Maxon. For the third and final time, yes I will marry you."

And then the ring box is lost in a tangle of sheets as Levi slides into me again.

LEVI.

"Bro, that bow tie is a disaster," Logan says, crossing the roof deck to tend to my lopsided attempt at tying it. "Why didn't you get a pre-tied one?"

"Because I'm not fifteen and it's not prom," I snap, trying to ignore the nerves jumping around in my body.

"Boys, boys, calm yourselves," Julia calls, appearing at the top of the stairs. The morning is sunny and warm for late October. This will probably be the last time it's tolerable to host an event outdoors. Maybe one of the last weekends we get to use the limestone mansion's roof deck. I've grown up in this house my entire life, but have probably spend a grand total of five minutes up here. My mother thought it was dangerous, my father a waste of time.

But as soon as Cadence set her eyes on it, with its sweeping views of the Charles River to the north, the Prudential and Hanc.o.c.k to the south, and the orange-topped trees of the Garden to the East, she declared it her favorite place in all of Boston. You can even see a bit of Fenway to the west if you stand on your tippy toes.

So of course we had to get married up here. And once we decided, we knew we wanted to do it quickly. Otherwise we'd be standing in a few feet of snow as our nearest and dearest shivered to death and begged us to say our vows quicker.

"Are you two nearly ready?" Julia asks, and Logan and I both nod.

"Well let's get this show on the road. It's a little bit chilly up here," Brenda says to n.o.body in particular as she pulls her shawl tighter around her. Brenda still has a unique ability to seem abrasive one hundred percent of the time, but once you look past it, you see that she means well.