Текст книги "Bang"
Автор книги: E. K. Blair
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Bang
Copyright © 2014 by E. K. Blair
Cover Design by E.K. Blair
Editing by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits
Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
Photography by Erik Schottstaedt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
preface
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty
chapter thirty-one
chapter thirty-two
chapter thirty-three
chapter thirty-four
chapter thirty-five
chapter thirty-six
from the author
acknowledgements
For Cathy
Because life is not a fairytale, but we all need that one person who keeps the dream alive.
You are that person for me.
“I’m afraid I can’t explain myself. Because I am not myself, you see?”
–Lewis Carroll
THEY SAY WHEN you take revenge against another you lose your innocence. But I’m not innocent. I haven’t been for a very long time. My innocence was stolen from me. Taken was the life I was supposed to have. The soul I was born with. The ruby heart embedded in a life full of hopes and dreams. Gone. Vanished. I never even had a choice. I mourn that life. Mourn the what-ifs. But I’m done. I’m ready to take back what was always meant to be mine. Vengeance is what I seek to reclaim what was viciously ripped from me. So now? Now I plot. Now I take control. Now I don my crown of hatred.
“HONEY, ARE YOU almost ready?” my husband’s voice calls from the other room.
I look at my reflection in the mirror as I slide in my pearl earring, whispering to myself, “Yes.”
Straightening my posture and smoothing the slick fabric of my dress, I run my fingers through my long, red hair. A blanket of carmine. Loose waves falling over my bare shoulders. The coolness of the midnight blue silk that clings to the slight curves of my small frame. The stoic good wife. My husband, the beacon of my admiration, or so it seems.
“Stunning.”
My eyes shift in the mirror to Bennett as he strolls into my closet and towards the island dresser where I stand. He drags my hair to the side, exposing my neck for his lips to land.
“Mmm,” I hum at his touch before turning in his arms to adjust his black bowtie.
His eyes are pinned on me as I focus on his neck, and when I flick my attention up, he gives me a soft smile. I return it. He’s striking with his strong bone structure, square jaw, and chestnut hair with the faint flecks of silver. A sign of his thirty-four years and his influential status. A mogul. Owner of the world’s largest steel company. He is power. And I the recipient.
“Baldwin is ready with the car,” he says before kissing my forehead.
I grab my purse and Bennett helps me with my coat before we take the elevator down. As we walk through the lobby of The Legacy, my home for the past three years, Bennett keeps his hand on the crest of my back, guiding me out into the night’s bite of winter.
“Mr. Vanderwal,” Baldwin, our driver and good friend to my husband for years, greets with a nod before turning his attention to me, “Mrs.”
“Good evening,” I say as I slip my hand in his, and he helps me into the back seat of the Land Rover.
Bennett slides in after me and takes my hand in his lap when Baldwin shuts the door and then hops in the front seat. ‘Metamorphosis’ by Glass, Bennett’s favorite, swallows the silence and fills the car. Lifting my free hand up, I place it on the ice-cold window, feeling the dampness and chill as it seeps into my skin.
“I love the snow,” I murmur, more to myself than to my husband, but he responds anyway.
“You say that every winter.”
Turning to look at him and then down at our linked hands, I release a soft hum before he shifts and says, “So Richard said he stopped by this hotel the other day and mentioned that it would be a good location to hold our New Year’s Eve party this year.”
“What’s the name?”
“Lotus.”
“Interesting,” I note before asking, “This is McKinnon’s new hotel, right?”
“His son’s, actually. I’ve yet to meet him.”
“Hmm.”
Giving my hand a light squeeze, he questions, “What’s that look for?”
“McKinnon can be, well . . .”
“An ass?”
I smile and agree, “Yes. I just never knew he had any children, that’s all.”
Driving through the Saturday evening traffic in the loop of Chicago, we finally pull up to the newly built boutique hotel that will cater to the city’s elite. We tend to find ourselves at a monotonous number of events such as this. With Bennett’s status, not only in this city, but worldwide, his presence is of an accord that is sought after for publicity and other reasons. But Bennett has found himself in several business dealings with Calum McKinnon over the years, so tonight’s event wasn’t one that we could skip out on.
When Baldwin opens the door and helps me down, I right myself and adjust my long dress before being led through the glass doors and inside the lobby of Lotus. While Bennett leaves my side to check our coats, I take in the decorum of guests and bite the inside of my cheek. I know I’m with the wealthiest man here, but my nerves tend to stain my gut, wondering if these people can see right through me.
I’m greeted with a glass of champagne and the eyes of a few women that serve on some of the charity boards that I sit on.
“You ready, honey?”
My husband wraps his arm around my hip and guides us over to the first of many interactions we will have. I gloss on my smile, raise my chin, and play the part. The part I have played since I met Bennett.
He’s a loving husband, always has been. Firm in his business, but so very gentle with me, as if I’m breakable. Maybe I used to be, but not anymore. I’m as strong as they come. Weakness derives from the soul. Most everyone has one, which gives a woman like me leverage. Leverage to play people to my liking, and so I do.
“Nina!” I hear my name being drawn out by one of my friends.
“Jacqueline, don’t you look lovely,” I say as she leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Well, I can’t even compete with you. Gorgeous as always,” she says before turning her attention to Bennett and blushing as she says hello. I’m sure she just soaked her panties as well. She’s a desperate flirt. Her husband is a sorry excuse for a man. But that husband is a business partner with Bennett, so I put up with his misogynistic bullshit and feel sorry for the twit that he married. She’s been trying to get into my husband’s pants since I first met her. I’ve never said a word because desperation is not something that Bennett is attracted to.
While Jacqueline flirts with my husband, I scan the room. Everyone dressed in their finest, drinking and socializing. I turn away from the mindless people and take in the sleek, modern design of the hotel. A minimalistic fitting but clearly bathed in money. As I float my gaze around the room, I land on a pair of eyes staring at me. Eyes that catch my interest. Standing in a small group, not paying attention to a single person around him, a man—a startlingly attractive man—is watching me. Even as I look at him from across the room, he doesn’t divert his lock on me; he merely cocks a small grin before taking a sip out of his highball. When a slender blonde strokes his arm, the contact is lost. Impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, he has a slightly uncaring look about him. His hair is styled loosely, as if he just ran his hands through the thick locks and said fuck it, and his defined jaw is covered in day-old stubble. But that suit . . . yeah, that suit is clearly covering a body that is well maintained. The lines and cuts hug his form, accentuating broad shoulders that V down to slender hips.
“Honey?”
Pulled away from my lingering eye, I turn to my husband’s curious look and notice that Jacqueline is no longer by his side.
“What’s got your attention?” he asks.
“Oh. I’m just taking everything in. This place is amazing, huh?”
“I was asking about the party, but I guess you were zoned out. So what do you think?”
“Yes, I agree. This would be a great venue and a nice change of scenery,” I tell him, and when I do, I see fuck it guy approaching. He has an ease with his stride, and the other women in the room see it too.
“You must be Bennett,” he says in a silky, rough Scottish brogue that’s reminiscent of his father’s accent as he reaches out his hand to my husband. “I’m Declan McKinnon. My father speaks very highly of you.”
“Good to finally meet you, Declan. I haven’t seen Cal here tonight,” Bennett says as he shakes fuck it guy’s hand, who now has a name.
“He’s isn’t here. He had to fly to Miami to take care of some business.”
“That old bastard never stops moving, does he?” Bennett laughs and Declan joins, shaking his head, saying, “Sixty years old and still barking orders to anyone who will listen. Hell, even to those who won’t.”
When Declan looks over to me, my husband apologizes and says, “Declan, this is my wife, Nina.”
Taking my hand, he leans in and kisses my cheek before pulling back and complimenting, “It’s a pleasure. I couldn’t help but take notice across the room earlier.” Looking at Bennett, he adds, “You’re a lucky man.”
“I tell her that every day.”
I wear my smile as a good wife should. I’ve been doing this for years, numb to the ridiculous accolades these men tend to throw around in their lame attempts at gentlemanly ways. I can see that Declan makes no attempts though. His shoulders are loose. He’s relaxed.
“This place is quite an accomplishment. Congratulations,” Bennett tells him.
“Thank you. It only took a few years off my life, but,” he says as he takes in the surroundings, “she’s exactly how I envisioned her,” before bringing his eyes back to me.
This guy is outright flirting, and I’m surprised when it slides past Bennett as he continues in conversation.
“I was just telling Nina that your hotel would provide a perfect backdrop for our year-end party that we throw for our friends.”
I butt in with a smirk, saying, “It’s a once-a-year event where my husband releases the reins, allowing me to create an event to accentuate his financial power, simply to remind everyone who’s on top. A penis extender, if you will, and he’s due for his annual visit.” I tease with a tender femininity that has the boys laughing in amusement at my tart words. I laugh along with them as I shoot my husband a flirty wink.
“She’s got a sweet mouth on her,” Declan says.
“You have no clue,” Bennett responds as he looks down at me with his grin. “But despite what she says, she loves planning this yearly engagement, and I get a thrill out of watching her spend all of my hard-earned money. But we’re in a bind because the venue we selected a few months back is now under renovation and the space won’t be ready in time.”
“When does this event take place?”
“It’s a New Year’s Eve ball,” he answers.
“Sounds like that is doable,” Declan says as he takes out a business card from inside his suit jacket, and instead of handing it to Bennett, he hands it to me, saying, “Since it seems you’re the woman I’ll be answering to, here are my contact numbers.”
Taking the card from between his fingers, I watch as he turns and tells my husband, “I’ll be sure to oversee the planning to ensure that Nina gets everything she requests.”
“Looks like I’ll be writing a big check this year,” my husband jokes. “Well, Declan, it was great to finally put a face to the name, but if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to show off my wife on the dance floor.”
When Bennett leads us to the full dance floor and wraps me in his arms, I take the opportunity to peek over his shoulder to find Declan watching me intently. This guy makes no qualms about his interest, and a pang of elation thrums inside me as my husband slowly moves me with ease.
We continue to spend the evening mingling and visiting with friends and business associates before we retire for the evening and head back to The Legacy. Stepping off the elevator and into the penthouse that Bennett owned when I first met him four years ago, we walk through the darkened living room. The only light is from the moon that’s casting its glow behind the snow-filled clouds outside the floor to ceiling windows that span across the two walls. I enter the master suite behind Bennett, and as I slip off my heels, I look up to see that he has already undone his bowtie and it hangs around the collar of his white tuxedo shirt, which he is now unbuttoning.
His eyes are rapt as they move down my body. I stand there as he slowly approaches and then slides his hands along the length of my sides until he finds himself on his knees in front of me. He runs his hands up my legs through the opening of the slit in my dress, and as soon as his fingers hit my panties, I turn it off.
The steel cage wraps around my heart and before my stomach can turn, I shut down.
Numb.
Vacant.
He drags my panties down my legs and I step out of them before I feel the warmth of his tongue when he slides it along the seam of my pussy, but I am able to keep myself from entertaining the slightest impulse of intimacy. I’ve been sleeping with my husband for years, but I refuse to allow the pleasure I lead him to believe I’m experiencing.
Why?
I’ll tell you why.
Because I hate him.
He thinks, in this moment, that we’re making love. His cock fills me slowly as I lie beneath him. Arms laced around his neck. Legs spread open wide, inviting him in deeper as he makes a meal out of my tits. He believes everything I want him to. He always has. But this is merely a game for me. A game he foolishly has fallen into. He never questions my love for him, and now my body writhes underneath his and moans in mock pleasure as he comes hard, jerking his hips into me, telling me how much he loves me, and I give his words right back.
“God, Bennett, I love you so much,” I pant.
His head is nestled in the yoke of my neck as he tries to calm his breathing, and when he lifts up, I run my fingers through his hair and over his damp scalp as he looks into my eyes.
“You’re so stunning like this.”
“Like what?” I question softly.
“Sated.”
Idiot.
ROLLING OVER IN bed, I find myself alone. Nothing new. Bennett’s aftershave still lingers in the air, and when I freshen up and walk out into the open-concept living room, I see him sitting at the bar in the kitchen. He reads a file while drinking his coffee. Tying the sash of my silk robe around my waist, I approach him from behind, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, giving him a kiss.
“Good morning,” he says with a grin, happy to see me.
“You’re up early,” I respond as I note his three-piece suit.
Setting the file down, he turns to pull me in between his legs. “I’m leaving for Dubai. Did you forget?”
“Of course not. But you don’t leave for another few hours,” I tell him and then drop my head, adding in mock sadness, “I wish you would stay.”
Kissing my lips, he draws away and strokes his fingers through my long hair, combing it back. “It’s only for a few days. Plus, you’ll be busy.”
“Busy?”
“I need you to start getting everything lined up for the party. It’s just over a month away and announcements need to go out soon. Richard isn’t going with me, so he’ll be around this week if you need anything.”
Richard is Jacqueline’s husband and Bennett’s business partner. He has always rubbed me the wrong way, but I feign my liking for him merely for Bennett.
He wears an ascot for Chrissakes.
“Okay. Well, I’ll do some work from here today and then call the hotel to set up a meeting.”
As I walk over to fix a cup of hot tea, Bennett gets back to his work before he has to catch his flight. After a while, Baldwin takes his luggage down to the car while we say our goodbyes.
“I’m gonna miss you,” I murmur, to which he responds, “Honey, you always say that.”
Rubbing up against him, I cover his mouth with mine. “Because I always do.”
He smiles.
I smile.
“Call me as soon as you land so that I know you’re okay.”
“I love you.”
I follow him to the elevator and give him one last kiss before he leaves and then make my way to the study to work on the laptop. Getting myself comfortable, I open the lid and type Declan McKinnon into the search engine. Link after link floods the screen. I click on one and read:
Declan Alexander McKinnon
Born in Edinburgh, Scotland
Age: 31
Son of Calum McKinnon and the late Lillian McKinnon
MBA studies at The University of St. Andrews in Scotland
I continue to read about his various academic and business accomplishments and recognitions. I’ve met his father on several occasions and know that the family name is a well-respected one, so I can imagine the pressure on him to keep it as such.
Clicking over to the image search, hundreds of pictures of him grace the screen with a variety of women attached to his arm. Clearly he enjoys his bachelor status, but it seems he is new to the Chicago area.
Without pondering on him too much, I close the internet down and open Bennett’s address book to begin working. Because of his notoriety, our extravagant annual event calls to the cravings of egos. For that alone, security and privacy are a necessity.
In lieu of my usual distaste for my husband, I must give him credit for being a self-made man. For building this multi-billion dollar company from the ground up and making the Vanderwal name something to be admired. A name that adorns me when my former was tarnished.
Once I have a rough guest list, I email it to Bennett for his lookover. Walking out of the study, Clara catches my eye. She’s busy unloading groceries in the kitchen when I say, “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Mrs. Vanderwal, hi,” she says sweetly. “Your husband insisted that I come in today since he’s going away on business. Is he still here?”
“No, you missed him.” Walking over, I step into the kitchen and start helping her put away the food.
“Stop fussing over this,” she playfully scolds, and I smile at her when she shoos me out of the kitchen.
I never had a mom, and although Clara is an employee, she fills our home with a warmth that only a woman with a strong maternal sense can do.
“Would you like for me to fix you a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. I had one earlier.”
I take a seat at the bar as she asks, “You hungry?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I think I’m going to hang around here today. Bennett wants me to start working on the ball, so I figure I’ll lie around and surf the internet for ideas.”
“Is it that time already?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“How fast the years go by. When you get to be my age, you better not blink. Ever,” she says with a soft smile as she starts to pull out pans to cook.
I walk over to the windows and watch as the snow falls over the city. From up here on the seventy-first floor, I feel like a queen. I take a moment to enjoy the view before I get to work while Clara busies herself in the kitchen, preparing meals for the next few days. Time escapes me and before I know it, the sky is darkening and Clara is saying goodbye.
WHEN I WAKE up the next morning, I take my time getting ready. I wander over to the windows, and as I’m looking down on the busy traffic in the loop on this Monday morning, I take a sip of my tea and then hear my phone ring. I see it’s Bennett and answer.
“Hey, honey,” I say as I walk over to the sofa and take a seat.
“Hi. I tried calling when I landed yesterday.”
“Sorry. I went to bed early.”
“That taxing of a day, huh?” he jokes with light laughter.
“Yeah, something like that. Must be this constant snow we’re having. Makes me lazy,” I tell him. “So how is everything going?”
“Good. Just met with our new client and had a late lunch. I’m heading back to the hotel now to grab a shower before I have to wine and dine these bastards later tonight at dinner, but I wanted to catch you because I missed hearing your voice last night.”
“You missed my voice, huh?”
“I missed more than your voice,” he flirts.
Letting out a deep breath, I tell him, “I miss having you in bed with me. I’m always lonely without you here. This place is too quiet and too still.”
“Didn’t Clara stop by yesterday?” he asks.
“She did. You know, you don’t have to mollycoddle me. I’m a big girl.”
“I like to . . . what did you call it? Mollycoddle?” I can hear the chuckle in his voice when he says this, and I play right back in laughter, saying, “Yes. Mollycoddle. For such a worldly man, you should broaden your vocabulary.”
“Is that so? Well, maybe when I get back I should show you just how expansive my vocabulary is.”
I laugh. If there’s one thing Bennett is not, it’s a dirty talker, but I give him a flirtatious, “Hmm . . . maybe you should come home early.”
“I wish. Although I am enjoying the warmer temperatures here. It’s nice and sunny.”
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, it won’t work. You know I love the cold and grey. Gives me a reason to cuddle up to your warmth every night.”
“So what kept you warm last night?”
“Stuffing my stomach full of Clara’s baked ziti and then huddling down deep in the blankets.”
“Well, I’ll be home soon enough to keep you warm, hun,” he says in a smooth voice before asking, “So what’s on your agenda today?”
“I was going to give the hotel a call to see if I can set up a meeting to look over the space again.”
“We were just there.”
“Yeah, but now I want to see it empty, without all of Chicago’s upper crust loitering in it.”
He laughs at me and then says, “Sweetheart, don’t you forget that you are as upper crust as they get.”
“And I only have you to thank for that, darling,” I tease. “But seriously, I want to see what the space looks like empty and talk to management to find out if they have any new leads on vendors. I’d like to step out of the norm from what we’ve done the past couple of years.”
“As long as it has your hand in it, it will be amazing. Everything you touch turns to perfection. Just look at me.”
“Perfection, huh? Well, I can’t argue with that ego of yours. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
“And I you,” he compliments before saying, “The car just pulled up to the hotel, so I need to let you go.”
“Okay. Try not to work too hard. I miss you.”
“Miss you too, love. Have a good day.”
We hang up and I let out a deep breath. Talking to him like that used to be difficult in the beginning, but now it’s as natural as wanting to wipe dog shit off your shoe.
I walk into my closet to pull out the clutch I took to the party the other night. Opening it, I take out the business card that Declan gave me and walk back out to the living room to make the call.
“Lotus,” a woman’s voice purrs.
“Declan McKinnon, is he available?”
“And who shall I say is calling?”
“Nina Vanderwal.”
She puts me on hold for a moment and when the line is picked up, she tells me, “Mr. McKinnon is finishing up a meeting. Would you like me to take a message?”
“Well, I don’t want to disturb his schedule, but I will be organizing an event and would like to come see the main ballroom space and discuss vendors.”
“Of course. Let me direct you over to our manager,” she says before transferring me.
After a brief chat with the hotel manager, we set up a meeting an hour from now. Hanging up the phone, I call Baldwin to have the car ready to drive me over to the hotel. When he arrives, I’m ready as he helps me slip my coat on over my ivory silk top that’s tucked into my tailored, black, wool pants.
“Are you ready?” Baldwin asks as I grab my purse.
“Ready.”
We ride down on the elevator, and as we walk through the lobby, the car has already been pulled around out front.
“Watch your step,” Baldwin says as I maneuver around the small ice patches in my high heels.
When I arrive at Lotus, I walk in and am greeted by the manager who is waiting for me. He leads me into the ballroom, and I take note of the space. The main seating area will easily accommodate the event, and there is an attached lounge that houses various cigars and liquors that are displayed around the dark mahogany room. The bar is broad and masculine, and the woodwork is quite impressive. It’s a shame all this was hidden beneath the sea of people that was here at the grand opening. The setting is an intimate one despite the vast size of the room. The dance floor is situated down a small flight of stairs, setting it off from the dining room, creating a less hectic atmosphere for entertaining.
A familiar accent catches me off guard as I’m walking around and taking notes in my memo book.
“How does she look?” His brogue casts through the room, and when I turn to catch his eye, I ask, “Excuse me?”
Scanning the space, he clarifies, “The space, I mean. Looks different empty, doesn’t it?”
Turning my head to admire the décor, I say, “Yes. I was just thinking about how much detail I failed to see the other night with all the people here.”
He walks over to me, looking polished in his slacks and fitted button-up, sans suit jacket and tie, with a slight grin on his face, and reaches out for my hand and finally greets, “It’s good to see you again, Nina.”
The way my name is caressed by his accent is without a doubt sexy as hell.
As he brushes his lips over my knuckles, the stubble along his jaw grazing over the soft skin of my hand, I don’t respond, but when he keeps his hold a beat too long, I pull away. His smirk remains, as if amused by my reaction.
He casually turns to the man that was showing me around and dismisses him. Turning back to me, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks and asks, “So, what do you think?”
“I think my husband was right; it’s the perfect place to host the party.”
“Great. Did you need to look around anymore?”
“I think I’ve gotten my fill for the moment.”
He seems humored by something, maybe me, and pulls his hands out of his pockets, placing one on my back as he leads me out of the room.
“Let’s go to my office and discuss the details then.”
We make our way into his office, and I stand in the center of the oversized room as he walks over to his desk, moving with a relaxed confidence, and grabs the laptop. He nods his head towards the leather couch, saying, “Please, have a seat.”
I situate myself and open my planner, flipping through the pages to find my calendar, when I feel his eyes on me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask when I look up at him, feigning my annoyance.
“Where does one even buy a paper planner anymore?” he teases.
“Lots of places.”
“I haven’t seen one of those in years. You do know they make these things called tablets now.”
Smiling at his banter, I say, “Yes. Every now and then I’m able to crawl out from under my rock to keep up to speed with modern technology, thank you.”
He shakes his head and laughs as I watch his smile reach his green eyes and crinkle at the corners.
“Do you even own one?” he asks, still smirking at me.
“No.”
He doesn’t respond, but his unfaltering look pulls out my answer to his unspoken ‘Why?’
“I like privacy. Technology disrupts that. I can burn paper and throw the ashes away as if it never existed. Untraceable.” Giving the sly grin back to him, I add, “But you? Don’t you think it’s foolish that you’re putting yourself out there? To be exposed?”
“Is this a riddle?”
I laugh, ignoring his question as I flip through my calendar and confirm, “You have December 31st open, correct?”
Sighing, he shifts and looks at his laptop, saying, “Yes.”
“Great. Bennett likes to keep this event small, two hundred or so. Security is important to him—”
“You as well?” he interrupts and I soften my face, smile, and say, “Yes. Me, as well. As I was saying, guests will need to check in, so will your staff provide that amenity?”
“Anything you want.”
We spend the next hour discussing ideas for setup and scheduling meetings with a few vendors for the next couple of weeks before I call to have Baldwin pick me up. Declan’s well-bred manners sway to the salacious side with the way he kisses me when I leave, gripping my upper arms in his hands and dragging his lips along my cheek before pressing his lips on the shell of my ear, whispering, “Until next time.”
