Flesh: Part Eleven (The Flesh Series Book 11) Read online

  “There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind.”

  “I won't try to change your mind. I just want you to listen. I just want to talk.”

  I curse myself for my own curiosity. Even if it is all bullshit, I want to hear what he has to say.

  “Talk. You have five minutes.” I gaze down at him coldly.

  “Do you want to sit down?” He pats the spot beside him.

  “No. I don't want to be anywhere near you.” Especially not at arm's length.

  “Alright.” He nods.

  For several moments, he's silent.

  “Times a tickin, Doctor Reddick.” I tap my foot.

  “This is hard for me.”

  “Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.” I turn to the door again, placing my hand on the handle. If he has nothing to say, then there's no reason for me to stay.

  “I have feelings for you, Amy.” The words come out in a desperate slur.

  My body tenses from hearing them. “I don't care anymore.”

  “I know I've fucked things up. Badly. I've driven you away. And yes, this last time it was on purpose. I didn't want to face those feelings. Maybe if you would have stayed away...”

  I'm taken aback by the sheer honestly in what he's saying. Never before have I doubted less that he's lying. He was purposely trying to get away from me. It hurts, and I don't understand it, but I don't want to talk about it anymore either.

  “So you were going to abandon the project?” I ask, pretending that it's the only thing that ever mattered.

  “No. I was just taking time to recompose myself, to separate my feelings from business.”

  “I don't care.”

  “That's bullshit. I know you do care. This is just a front.”

  I turn to him and shake my head. “No, Lucian. I truly don't care anymore. I don't care about the project. I don't care about you. All I care about is fixing the mess that you've made of my life, even if I have to make a bigger one of my career to feel whole again.”

  “You don't feel whole?” It's a stupid question in light of everything we just talked about.

  “I told you already. You've broken me. You've destroyed...so much. I'll spend a long time repairing myself.”

  “If you walk away from me, I'll be broken too.”

  “You already were broken. You've been broken since before I met you. It's just taken this long for me to figure it out.” I turn the door handle, and Lucian flies to his feet.

  He pulls me back into his arms, and I have to resist the urge to try to fight him off again. “Please, don't go, Amy.” His voice is unsteady, and I know he's on the verge of crying. Knowing that he's in pain bothers me, even though it shouldn't. He did this to himself. He did this to both of us.

  “I don't care about you anymore.” The words sound just as hollow as I feel inside.

  “But I...I...”

  “You. You. It's all about you. It always has been.”

  “Tell me how to make this right.” He squeezes me gently.

  “There's no making it right, Lucian.”

  “I don't want to be without you.”

  “You should have thought about that before you dicked me around.” I carefully try to peel his fingers from around me, but he doesn't budge.

  “People make mistakes, Amy. When you've been through as much as I have. When you're so scared of losing the ones that you love...It's so hard to love again. I haven't wanted to let anyone get close to me. Not until you came along.

  “This was never supposed to happen. You were supposed to be just another casual fuck, but then you got under my skin. I saw how beautiful and sweet and wonderful you are. I saw what I was missing in my life, and I was scared. I was scared because I thought that if I brought you close to me, I would just lose you. Somehow, someway, something would happen, and I'd lose you. I didn't think I could afford that kind of pain again without breaking completely. And now I realize that I can't afford not taking that chance.”

  I sigh, genuinely feeling sorry for him. He has been through a lot. After dealing with so much loss in close proximity, it would probably be natural to want to distance yourself from any kind of real human connection.

  I place my fingers on top of his, but not even I can tell if I'm trying to comfort him or not. I'm speechless, unsure of what to do. More than anything, I'm emotionally exhausted.

  “Say something,” he whispers into my ear.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Say that you'll give me another chance. I won't push you away again. I promise.”

  I want to believe him, but it's hard after everything he's put me through. He doesn't deserve another chance. I think we both know that.

  “Is that why you still work here at Flesh, because you've been trying to keep your distance from me?”

  The question catches him off-guard, and I can feel his body tense behind me. “It's complicated,” he mutters after a few seconds of silence.

  “Everything about you is complicated. I don't like complicated.” I relax in his arms, surrendering to the fact that he won't let me go until he's good and ready. I absolutely hate the way he makes me a prisoner like this. Now that I think about it, he's kind of needy. Kind of selfish. Definitely not as perfect as I originally thought. I can only assume that he behaves this way because deep down inside he's insecure. Perhaps it stems from his fear of losing people.

  “I wish it wasn't so.”

  “I wish a lot of things weren't so.” His embrace is starting to feel strangling. “Let me go, Lucian.”

  “Tell me you'll give me another chance. Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

  “The idea of going to dinner with you after you've been with however many women are left on your client sheet for the night isn't exactly appealing.” I turn my head to look at him, but I can barely see his face.

  “I'll cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the evening. I'll be ready whenever you tell me to. Tonight can be all about talking, compromising, telling each other the raw truth. That's what you want, isn't it?” He sounds like he's grasping at straws to please me.

  The fact that he's willing to cancel his appointments for the rest of the night tells me that he's very serious. Even if I don't want to admit it to myself, even if I don't want to believe it...he does care about me. I'm beginning to think that every reaction he's had tonight, the tears and the begging and the defeated look, it was all genuine.

  I swallow hard, watching my defenses break down from the inside, seeing a small sliver of light shining through the dark clouds of these heavy moments. The thought of giving in to him makes me feel naive, but deep down inside, I still want him. Aside from the night that we made love together, this is the closest he's ever been to the man I want him to be. He's chasing me. It's not the other way around. He's willing to sacrifice...what? Fucking a few extra girls tonight. The thought instantly disgusts me.

  “At the top of my list of priorities was sex.” I try my hardest to keep bitterness out of my voice. I don't want him to think that I'll be angered by an honest answer, even though it's pretty obvious that I would be. “If I were someone else. If you had come in here and I had been a normal client, would you have had sex with me?”

  “No,” he replies without hesitation. “Now let me take you to dinner.”

  It's an unexpected answer, and while I should be satisfied with it, I can't help but want to dig further, to find some dirt that will help me to hate him again. Even though I selfishly want him, I feel like giving him this last chance is a big mistake.

  “How many girls have you slept with since me?” I ask.

  “Amy, don't do this.” Lucian tenses behind me.

  “How many, Lucian?” My tone is so biting that it could shred skin.

  “None since I told you about my wife and son. None since I realized how much you matter to me.” It's a diversion from the actual question, but now that I think about it, I don't want the real answer. This is good enough.


  That there was a period of time since we've known each other that he's still been intimate with other women hurts, but the fact that he stopped after a breakthrough in our relationship does mean something to me. He stopped because he truly cares. Maybe we are making some kind of progress after all.

  I'm filled with so much uncertainty. My emotions are everywhere. There's a cold part of me that's still looking at him as a project. A deeper part of me desperately wants to be with him, despite all of his non-stop douchebaggery. I've never had bad boy syndrome before, and I hate it. I hate that I'm attracted to him. I hate that I want to heal him. I hate that I'm willing to compromise myself to try to make something out of this mess.

  “Pick me up at eight,” I say before pulling out of his grasp and opening the door, never looking back at him.

  From the Author

  I hope you've enjoyed Flesh: Part Eleven. Part Twelve will be available shortly.

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