He Belongs With Me (24 page)

“But you and Leo are nothing alike.”

“So? We were both teenage boys. We played Xbox and snuck beers out of your dad's industrial-sized fridge.” He chuckled at the memory. “We didn't need to have a lot in common to be friends. And if you really think about it, we weren’t all that different under the surface. We both had one neglectful parent and one absentee parent growing up.” Robby reached across the table and rested his hand over mind. The gesture shocked me, but I didn't move away from his touch. “When I left, I hurt Leo too. But I meant what I said about us being friends again. I get how important Leo is to you and I want to fix my friendship with him as well. I won him over once and I'm confident I can do it again.”

I retracted my hand. “Good luck.”

“I don't need luck.” He shrugged and stood to his feet. “I've got to go get Valerie ready for bed. Give me a few minutes, please? There's still so much to say.”

“Okay.”

He nodded and headed off into the living room, were I heard him tell Valerie it was time for bed. Before they disappeared, Valerie bolted over to me and gave me a second hug. “Goodnight, Maggie,” she whispered and then took off running down the hall and out of the room, followed by Robby.

Awkwardly, I stood and moved into the living room. The reality that I was actually in Robby Harvey's apartment—both of us grown up and years away from where we started—hit me hard. I never expected this day to come, because I honestly never thought I’d see him again. Now it was here and I hardly knew what to do with myself. I thought over the things Robby had just told me and I realized—quite disappointed in myself—that I still didn't have any real answers. I'd wasted time addressing pointless issues when I had so many more important questions.

Robby came back into the room and had just sat down in the recliner across from me when I blurted out, “Is Valerie my sister?” I could have tiptoed around the question all night, but it was easier to say the words as fast as possible and hope for the best. Besides, I needed to get the conversation going or I was going to forget why I was really here—to get answers...not fall in love with the guy all over again.

His eyes narrowed. “What gave you that impression?”

“Is she or isn't she?”

“Isn't.”

“Your sister then?”

“Maggie...” He rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward. His brown eyes stared intensely at me, looking as if I'd upset him by even asking this question. “Valerie is my child. I haven't lied to you. I don't understand what you're trying to get at, but I can assure you she's mine. Not my mom's. Not your dad's. Mine.”

I nodded. Suddenly, my eyes and throat burned with unshed tears.
Stupid me.
Without even realizing it was happening, I'd let hope in. I'd thought for a second that maybe, just maybe, if Valerie wasn't his child, then that might have meant he'd continued to love me all this time. How moronic could one person be? Then another thought overtook that one.
I was Maggie Ryder, for goodness’ sake! Girls wanted to be me and guys—lots of guys—wanted to date me. So why was I about to let Robby Harvey hurt me all over again?

I could do the math. Valerie's age meant that Robby had basically gone off and screwed some other girl days after leaving me. He'd played me, and I couldn't let him do it twice.

I stood to my feet, my confidence shooting back through me like a jolt of electricity. “I'm ready to walk out that door and out of your life forever because you left, you didn't call, and you obviously wasted no time forgetting me and finding someone else,” I said, waving my arm in the direction of Valerie’s room. “So, no. We can't be friends. But I do need to know why you changed your name. Tell me quickly, please. Tell me so I can go.”

“Sit down,” he urged. “Please, let me explain.”

“No.”

He stood, his calm demeanor now gone. “Fine. My father's name was Dean. I took it after his death. There's your answer. Go if you'd like.”

The tension in the room grew thick enough to suffocate. Robby's chest rose and fell like he'd just broken free from being held underwater. The muscles in his strong arms flexed as his hands curled at his sides. He seemed angrier than I'd ever seen him, but there was only pain in his eyes. And as much as I wanted my feet to move me toward the door, they didn't do as I commanded—and neither did my mouth.

“I don't want to go,” I muttered.

“I don't want you to go either,” he said, breathing in and out a few times. “I loved my dad. I never got to know him growing up. Mom kept him from me, always saying he wasn't good enough for us. Then Valerie was born. Mom didn't want to deal with another child, so she sent us both away to my father. He took us in. No questions asked. He was a loving, wonderful father, and then he died. I wanted to honor him somehow and so I changed my name. The name Robby came from some 90’s pop singer Mom had a crush on when she was growing up. I'd rather be named after my father than some boy-band member that history's already forgotten.”

“How did he die?” I asked.

“Heart attack.”

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my feet moved me across the room. Tears broke free and streamed down my face. A big part of me was still madder than a snake, but I also found myself drawn to him in some powerful way I couldn't explain. Being that Robby—or should I say,
Dean
—was way taller than me, I couldn't easily reach up and grab him. So, I did what any rational girl of my short stature would do. I stepped up onto the coffee table beside where he stood, firmly grabbed the sides of his face, and drew him close to me.

Our lips connected and for one brief, amazing moment, Dean melted into me. His hands trailed up my back, pulling my body closer. His lips were warm and soft, lingering against mine, and then suddenly they were gone.

“No,” he whispered as his hands dropped and he backed away. “I can't.”

His rejection felt like knife to the heart. I used his shoulder as a prop to step down from the table and without another word, I turned and hurried for the door.

CHAPTER 22

CLARA

I'D NEVER BELIEVED IN fate, but tonight it sure felt like the universe or some invisible force was pulling me toward Leo's house—pulling me toward the inevitable. I'd bolted from him yesterday on the subway because I'd been afraid of all these new feelings. Now...all I wanted was to embrace everything. Life was short and unpredictable—I’d learned that the day Mom died—and I couldn't let this moment pass without taking everything I wanted from it.

Being as calm as possible, given the circumstances, I marched up the steps toward Leo's front door. I didn't bother knocking and let myself inside. Most of the lights were off and everything was eerily quiet. I set my purse and keys down, ignoring my sporadic heartbeat, and ventured deeper into his house. Déjà vu played weird tricks on my mind, and I recalled that night as a kid when I'd snuck over here with that tiny clover clutched in my hand.

I found Leo in the den just off the foyer. The den was one of those fancy rooms that rich people had
just because
. It served no real purpose other than to show off priceless junk. Leo was fast asleep, curled up in the most uncomfortable position on the most uncomfortable-looking floral couch. I stepped into the room, nearly tripping over some of the junk.
What the hell? Was someone redecorating?
About damn time. Leo's whole house looked like a museum and needed some serious updating. I stepped over the junk and inched closer toward the couch where Leo was sleeping.

Nothing could have prepared me for the simple sight of him. He'd fallen asleep wearing his glasses. Dark frames. Wide rims. I knew he wore contacts typically and glasses on occasion. I just didn't know something plastic could make my already pounding heart go off like a jack-hammer. Seeing him lying there, peaceful and alone in his big, empty house, took my breath away. And it wasn't just the glasses making me feel all these crazy emotions. It was the echo of his sweet words still fresh in my mind. He'd told me he loved me and that meant everything.

His eyes flickered open to catch me staring. I probably looked like a psycho-stalker the way I was hovering over him, but there wasn't an ounce of annoyance on his face—only a vulnerability most people would try to hide. But Leo hid nothing. Somehow I'd stripped down the last of his walls and the only person left lying on that couch in front of me was Leo. The real Leo—beautiful, broken, misunderstood, sweet-as-hell Leo.

Reaching my hand out for his, I led him out of the cluttered den, across the foyer, and up the grand staircase. No words were exchanged. Each step felt like a mile and my heart drummed so hard it beat in my ears. It was dizzying, to say the least. Leo's bedroom sat directly off the top of the stairs. Once we made it inside, I flipped the light on. I wanted to see everything that was about to happen. I also pushed the door closed behind us, locking it.

We were alone now and the rest of the world couldn't touch us, making me feel very free and playful. I planted both of my hands on Leo's hard chest and gave him a small shove toward his white, cushy four-poster bed. He hardly budged, and when I tried a second shove, he caught my wrists against the solid wall of his chest. I pouted up at him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“You,” I said, taking a deep breath.

He had on the best poker face ever. Several seconds ticked by before he responded, “I don't want to rush this.”

I tried to wiggle my hands free from where he still had them in a vice-like grip against his chest. It was no use—Leo wasn't letting me go. I stopped squirming and dared a better look up and into his eyes. They were smoldering blue, smoky and burning with anger. Wait, no. It wasn't anger. It was lust. Red-hot rip-your-clothes-off lust. Lust that my body desperately wanted to take advantage of. But Leo seemed to be fighting it.
Why?

“Who cares if we rush this?” I asked softly, trying to put whatever was bothering him at ease. “I don't. You shouldn't either. I'm not ready to say certain words out loud, but I can give you something else. I can show you how I'm feeling. Please, Leo. Let me show you. You told me on the subway to stop over-thinking and now you're doing the same exact thing. So, stop it.”

His grip on my hands loosened, but his expression didn't soften. I wanted him and I could see in his eyes that he wanted the same, but he was still being hesitant for some reason. My hands slipped up his chest and I cupped the sides of his neck. Standing on my tiptoes, I pressed my lips to his and kissed him. He kissed me back, but the kiss felt more mechanical than passionate. All his walls were building back up at an alarming rate. I needed to do
something
.

My hands moved under his shirt and I traced my fingers up his clearly defined abs. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him and merely touching him made my breathing turn heavy.

Keep calm and carry on,
I told myself. I grabbed the edges of his shirt and yanked it up over his head. His glasses came off with his shirt and I tossed them both to the floor. He stood still and let me do as I pleased. Next I went for his belt buckle, unhooking it, and then his shorts. His clothing dropped unceremoniously to the ground,
leaving nothing left!
Leo apparently didn't wear underwear
.

My whole body started to tremble, while my eyes traced up and down Leo's naked form. I knew he'd be gorgeous underneath his clothes, but I really hadn't prepared myself for this level of perfection. I understood now what Steph had meant this morning when she called Leo “religious.” Each of his tattoos had various religious undertones. I didn't understand what they all meant, but I liked the way they complimented his lean, muscular figure. And then there was his...
um, member
. Well, it was just as beautiful as the rest of him. Thick, long, velvety, and
very big!
My eyes wanted to drift over his body forever, but then I realized...

Holy hell, I still had on my shoes while he was buck-ass naked!

I gulped. Hard. Then I gulped again. I dropped down to my knees, not really sure what I was doing but letting instinct take over. I'd meant what I'd said earlier. I wanted to show him how much I cared for him. I still wanted to do that. Never had I come close to doing this before, but maybe if I started to do
something,
it might shock Leo out of whatever the hell was wrong with him.

My nervous fingers reached out and I took him in my hand. Daring a glance up, I found Leo watching me with a look on his face that told me he was desperate to see what I was going to do next. So I moved my hand experimentally, stroking toward the base of his length and then back toward the tip. My fingers traced with the lightest of touches. Leo moaned a guttural, almost primitive noise.
Wow!
I enjoyed getting that kind of a reaction out of him so I continued with my feather-light movements. I looked up at him again and—finally—a change in him had occurred. His head had dropped back and his mouth was open. He'd snapped out of whatever had been holding him hostage, and he was back to being all mine again.
Go me!

That gave me all the courage I needed. Leaning closer, I placed my lips around the head of his erection and tentatively sucked him into my mouth. My tongue moved in tiny circles around the tip. He jerked at my contact. “Whoa, killer. You don't have to do anything you don't....”

His sentence went unfinished. He couldn't get the rest of his words out because I didn't let him. I dug my fingernails into that fine ass of his and sucked him deeper into my mouth. He said every curse word known to man, knotted his fingers through my hair, and started moving his hips to match my rhythm. I had some idea of what I was doing because I'd heard Steph and other girls discuss this kind of thing before. I'd been an active listener, but what no one had ever mentioned was how much enjoyment I could get out of it. I felt powerful, in control, and wet—really wet.

Just when I was really starting to get the hang of things, Leo moved himself out of my mouth, grabbed the sides of my arms, and pulled my fully clothed body up against his naked one. He didn't seem to care where my mouth had just been because he pressed his lips firmly against mine, kissing me like I was his and nothing else mattered.
Now this was more like it!
There was nothing mechanical about this kiss, and I unquestionably fell a little deeper under his spell.