“Again! Tell me.”

“My beloved is mine and I am his,” I scream so loud the words scrape my throat and ricochet off the walls.

“How dare you think you can take this from us?” he growls into my neck. “A fucking break? There’s no break. No separation. Tell me again.”

“Oh, God. I’m yours, Kenan.” I shake against him with my sobs, with the orgasm thundering through my body even as I weep. “You know I’m yours.”

“And I have found the one whom my soul loves,” he quotes back to me, his voice crashing into the curve of my neck. He comes, a roar strangled in his throat. A growl dying on his lips as he loses his breath with the force of his release.

We stay that way for long minutes, me pinned to the wall, my legs wrapped around him, his hands gripping my thighs. I relish the wet evidence of our love, our passion. I hate that it’s already sliding out of my body. Lost on my thighs. I want to hold him inside me forever.

“Don’t leave me, Lotus. God, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead into mine. “Not now. Not ever, but not now.”

“But it has to be now,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, baby, but it has to be now.”

I drop my legs, but he doesn’t move, keeping me pinned to the wall. I poke at his chest, but my strength is puny beside his, and he doesn’t move. I look up at him through my lashes and starch my will.

“Move,” I say firmly. “Go.”

“No.”

“You can’t stay here forever,” I reason. “At some point you have to go. You’re just delaying the inevitable. The sooner you focus on Simone, the sooner we can . . .”

“The sooner we can get back together?” He pushes my hair back and traces the shell of my ear. “We’re not breaking up.”

“Kenan.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “We are. For now, we are. It’s not forever, but it needs to happen. She failed this time. I doubt she wanted to succeed. She did it in your apartment, in your bedroom, knowing you’d be coming home. But what if she still feels like she’s not getting your attention? What if she does it again?”

“She won’t ever do that again.” A tick disrupts the stern line of his jaw.

“The thing about trying to kill yourself,” I say, keeping my voice hard, being ruthless because I have to be, “is you get better at it every time you try.”

He draws in a breath that strains the muscles of his chest in his shirt.

“Show her now, Kenan,” I urge, grabbing his hand. “Show her she’s the most important thing to you. Focus on her, and when the time is right, when she’s better, Dr. Packer will guide her into accepting me as part of your life.” I breathe a little chuckle. “Maybe one day, accepting me as part of her life, too.”

“I want that,” he says, the look in his eyes intensifying. “I want you in her life. I want us to be a family. Lotus, I want you to be my—”

“Stop.” If he says it, there is no way I can send him away. Longing swells so big inside of me, I think I might burst. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“When?” he demands, lifting my chin. “When can I say it?”

“Later. After she’s better, you can say it.”

“Promise me. Promise me I can say it when she’s better, and I’ll give you your break.”

“It’s not my break, Kenan,” I say, huffing an exasperated sigh. “It’s for her, not us. That’s the point.”

We stare each other down, and it’s reminiscent of all those times I walked into a room and forced myself to stare into the eyes of the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and walk away. I was afraid then of what would happen if I gave into the pull between us. Then I only suspected that if I ever got involved with him, I wouldn’t be able to leave. Now, I know who he is behind that rough exterior. I know his tenderness, his love, his passion, and they’ve exceeded my every expectation. He’s so much more than I imagined he would be, and it’s breaking me in half to let him go even for a season.

“Everything you’ve told me seems to underscore my point,” I say carefully. “Simone wants to be with you. With her living in your house, this is the perfect opportunity to show her she’s your priority.”

He doesn’t release me from the wall. I’m a butterfly trapped under glass. He studies me, but still doesn’t move.

“I’m flying Dr. Packer in once a week so Simone doesn’t have to start over with a new therapist,” he finally says. “When she determines that Simone is better, and that the time is right, you’ll, um . . .” He clears his throat, his lashes lowered and hiding whatever is in his eyes. “When the time is right, you’ll come back to me?”

My unguarded warrior. Never have I heard him more vulnerable, more exposed than he is right now. I reach up to cup his face, meeting his eyes with the force of my passion, my devotion.

“When the time is right,” I promise, my voice husky from the tears kept at bay in my throat, “I’ll come running, Mr. Ross.”

He bends and locks his elbows under my ass, picking me up and pressing his forehead to mine.

“No one touches you,” he says softly, fiercely.

“No one,” I agree.

“No dates.”

“None.”

“No flirtations or any of that shit.”

“None of that shit.”

He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “I’m serious, Lotus. We are not on a break. We are not seeing other people. You are not single.”

“And you can tell those groupies who hang around in the tunnel after games if they like their teeth in their mouths,” I say sharply, “they’ll keep their paws and their nasty little pussies away from my man. Do I make myself clear, Kenan?”

He grins, a flash of bittersweet against his mahogany skin that has my heart skipping beats and turning cartwheels, even as it breaks. “Crystal clear.”

43

Lotus

“Paris next year, Lo,” JP says decisively. “I want to show in Paris instead of New York.”

I nod, focused on the dress design I’ve been working on. “That sounds good.”

“Orders from the new collection have far surpassed our projections.”

“That’s amazing,” I reply, smudging the line of the shoulder with my thumb.

“And I think I’ll use that new model from Mars.”

“Love it.” I frown at the length of the sleeve, flipping my pencil to erase a half inch.

“And let’s open the fall show with an orgy.”

“Great idea.” I tilt my head and squint one eye at the hem. “Orgies are so hot right . . . “

My head pops up and I stare at him wide-eyed. “Wait. What?”

“I wondered how far I would have to go before you actually started listening,” he says, his grin teasing.

“Very funny. I was listening.”

“Oh, so you will be scouting on Mars for my next model, eh?”

“Va te faire foutre,” I mumble, and fight a smile.

“I think that’s the problem.” He accessorizes a suggestive waggle of his brows with a devilish grin. “You’re the one not getting fucked.”

My grin falls away, and I gather my sketch pad, phone and laptop.

“And on that note,” I say, standing, “I think I’ll go get some real work done.”

“You miss him, Lotus,” JP says. “It’s obvious how miserable you are without him.”

“I’m not miserable. I’m fine, and it’s temporary.”

“We only get so many days, ma petite, on this Earth. Why waste even one when you’ve found the love of your life?”

“What makes you think he’s the love of my life?” I ask, and head for the door to leave his office.

“You’re one of those creatures who only loves once and greatly, I think. So Monsieur Ross, he is it. Ai-je tort?”

I pause at the door, my hand on the knob.

Once and greatly. I’ve never been in love before, not even close, and I hope to never love anyone else. Only Kenan.

“Am I wrong?” JP repeats in English this time.

“No.” Over my shoulder, I give him a wan smile, softening when I find concern in his eyes. “Probably not.”

I close the door behind me and head straight for the backroom downstairs. Not only do I need privacy to work, but I also need some time by myself.

The last two months have been even harder than I anticipated, but I think we did the right thing. Kenan and I have spoken a few times. His schedule has been hectic, playing games every other day, sometimes back-to-back days, and constant travel. I probably wouldn’t have seen much of him anyway.

Even knowing it was the right thing to do, it was the hardest. I feel Kenan’s absence, not just from New York, but from my life, profoundly. Every part of me misses him. My body craves his touch—the way he’d push my hair back from my face or caress my fingers when we talked, or trace my spine after we made love. My soul aches for its interlocking piece. My heart is pressed to my chest with a glass, straining to hear the echo of his heartbeat, but it’s too far away.

I set my things down, ready to get to business.

“Where’d that pencil go?” I mutter, looking around. I pat the oversized pockets on the jumper I designed myself, and I feel a small square card inside. I go still for a second, then pull it out.

You populate my dreams. They are rich with the scent of you. Your heart is on my pillow, and I taste you in my sleep. – This one is all me

My smile wobbles. Once a week, I get a note in the mail. My weekly treasures are the brightest spots in my life, the barely-legible words he handwrites to me. It’s another card for my lunch box sewing kit.

“Here you are,” Yari says from the door. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I sniff and turn away to wipe under my eyes.