Part 18 (1/2)

But I tear my mouth away. ”Not in here.”

His eyes are so glazed that at first I'm not even sure he registers my words. But then he nods. He grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway to the back door.

The sun outside is blinding, but Ward doesn't give me a chance to adjust to the sudden brightness. The minute we're in the alley, he backs me against the brick wall of the opposite building and kisses me again.

The practical side of my brain reminds me that we're just outside of a church. Outside of his father's funeral. Even if you ignore those things, we're in an alley adjoining a busy street. Anyone could walk by and see us.

I pull away from him again. But this time I'm the one to grab his hand, and I pull him down the far end of the alley and around the corner. Now we're next to the fence we climbed over on our way in, and the church and everything it represents are hidden beyond the ma.s.sive brick building behind us.

This time when Ward presses me up against the wall, he's a little gentler. But the desperation is still there. I cup his face and pull his mouth to mine, and within seconds I've forgotten everything else.

There's a reason people turn to the arms of a lover when they're upset. It's not just the s.e.xual release. Or even the need for distraction. It's that in this-this meeting of bodies and souls-there's a profound beauty. That is what we really need.

Ward's mouth meets mine again and again. His hands run down my arms, then move to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He touches me everywhere, feeling me through my dress. I'm feeling him, too, letting my fingers roam wherever they can reach.

I don't mind the roughness of the bricks against my back when he's against me. And I don't object when he reaches down and tugs up the hem of my dress. I'm the one to push my panties down my legs and kick them off. I'm the one to pull at his belt.

I know what he needs. I needed it after my father's funeral, though I didn't get it until after I'd flown back to Thailand. I wrap my arms around his neck as he lifts me up. I hook my legs around his hips.

We don't have a condom. Not that it likely matters at this point. Ward doesn't know that, but he doesn't seem to notice. He loosens his grip on my thighs and lets me sink slowly onto his hard length.

And there it is-the flash of pleasure in his blue eyes as he buries himself inside of me. That flicker of beauty and hope and grace that he needs right now. I pull his face to mine and kiss him deeper than I've ever kissed him. Right now, he's the only thing in my world, and I want to be the only thing in his. I want all of his grief and anger and confusion to go somewhere far away, if only for a few moments.

We move together as hungrily as ever, but there's nothing frenzied about this lovemaking. Nothing wild. Instead, it's exquisite and heartbreaking, two bodies just trying to find peace and happiness. Two souls trying to twine together through our movements.

My fingers are in his hair. His press into my hips. I don't ever want to pull my mouth away from his. When I feel my climax approaching, I hold him closer. Kiss him harder. He groans and increases his tempo against me, and suddenly everything crests. I cry out into his mouth, and he's not far behind me. He pushes me against the wall a final time as his own release comes.

But he pulls his face back just enough for us to be able to look each other in the eyes. There's a calm in his expression-a real calm, not the mask-like emotion he wore during the funeral-and beneath that, there's something fierce and unrestrained.

”I love you,” he murmurs. ”I love you so much.”

”I love you, too.”

He leans forward and presses his cheek against mine. His lips touch my ear.

”You've had me from the beginning,” he says. ”You've had me from the moment you kissed me that first night.”

”This is real, isn't it?” I say. ”Promise me this is real.”

He kisses me just below the ear. ”This is real, and it's ours. No matter what else happens.” His mouth makes a path down my neck.

Maybe I don't need to wait to tell him about my possible pregnancy. This is the perfect moment, and neither of us is going anywhere. I'll tell him my period is late. Then we'll find a drugstore together and buy a pregnancy test with whatever change we can wrangle up. Whatever the results, we'll figure out the rest of it hand-in-hand.

But the minute I open my mouth, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye.

I turn, and Ward follows my gaze. There's someone else in the alley, just on the other side of the gate.

And he's got a camera pointed right at us.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

I notice quite a few things in those first couple of seconds.

First, that my dress is still bunched up around my waist and Ward's pants are still around his ankles.

Second, that the person on the other side of the gate looks rather comfortable-and he's partly hidden, which means he's probably been there for several minutes, if not longer.

Third, there's something familiar about him. I'm not sure whether it's his hair, or the set of his shoulders, or...

He moves his camera slightly, and my stomach sinks.

It's Asher Julian.

Asher Julian is the one who tried to blackmail me back at Huntington Manor. The one who first printed the story about Ward's connection to Edward Carolson only a week ago. He got his big break printing rumors about my brother and Lily. This guy owes his career to my family and the drama we've caused. I should have guessed he'd be here at Carolson's funeral. He's been chasing this story for weeks.

And now he's caught us like this. Violated this perfect, intimate moment.

”What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?” Ward asks. He helps push down my dress before yanking up his pants.

Asher smiles. ”I'm sure you're smart enough to know the answer to that question already.

My cheeks are on fire. ”You can't just take pictures of people when they're... after they've...”

”When they're in a public alley, they're kind of fair game. What did you think would happen? This funeral wasn't exactly a secret, you know. Or did you miss the swarm of wasps out front?”

”I want that camera,” Ward says. His hand has already curled into a fist.

”Or you'll what? Knock me out? No thanks.” He pretends to study his fingernails. ”I know about your record, buddy. If you hit me, I'll have your a.s.s thrown in jail. And unless I'm mistaken, there's no one to bail you out. Miss Cunningham here is completely broke and Daddy Dearest is dead.”

He's taunting us. He knows he has us cornered, and he's enjoying watching us squirm. I don't think I've ever wanted to sock someone so much in my entire life. Ward's livid. In spite of Asher's threats, he still looks like he's about to charge over that fence and send his fist into that smug a.s.shole's face. I put my hand on his arm, a silent plea, and though he relaxes slightly, he's still looks like he could snap at any moment.

Asher doesn't miss the small exchange. His smile widens.

”Look,” he says, ”I'm willing to make you a deal.” He looks between us. ”Will you let me climb over this fence? I'd prefer to discuss terms face-to-face.”

I glance up at Ward. He looks about as wretched as I feel. But I don't know what else to do. If this gets out-if Asher releases intimate photos of me and Ward right outside of Edward Carolson's funeral-well, every gossip outlet in the country will be talking about it for weeks. Maybe I could deal with that at this point in the game, but Ward... His father just died, right after the whole world learned about their connection. He needs time away from the public eye to figure things out.

”Fine,” I say before Ward can curse him out. ”We'll hear your terms.”

Ward's head jerks in my direction, but I don't look at him. I won't lose my nerve.

Asher climbs over the gate. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm hoping he'll fall-it wouldn't hurt him that much, but he'd probably crush that expensive camera against the pavement-but no such luck. He drops to his feet and turns toward us.

”I have quite a bit of footage of the two of you,” he says. ”You really should pay more attention to your surroundings before you start tearing each other's clothes off. If you really don't want half the world to know the intimate details of your relations.h.i.+p, you should probably teach yourselves a bit of discretion.”

I grit my teeth together. ”What are your terms, Mr. Julian?”