Possessed By You (The Consumed Series Book 3) Read online

  “You told me that you didn’t work for a month.”

  For the first time, his eyes leave mine, settling on my throat. They close when my fingers travel over the sharpness of his jaw onto freshly shaved skin. It feels good to hold him beneath my hand, powerful.

  “Everything you’re thinking I felt, I did.”

  “We’re together now,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says and looks at me, finally.

  “What made you want to go back?”

  “My sister. She showed up, kicked me into shape. My assistant voiced her concerns to Rebecca, who flew over and eased my wounded ego enough to put on a suit and leave the apartment.”

  “I really like her.”

  “She’s always liked you.”

  “Even now?”

  “Especially now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because only you can evoke those kinds of emotions from me. I’d never been in love…and she knew that.”

  Despite the countless times he’s told me of his love, I’m somehow still caught off guard. For most of our relationship, my love for him was at the forefront of every action between us, every conversation. And after he admitted it, we began to slowly accept the verbalization of it. He makes it look easy now.

  “We can get back there, Ben. I know we can. We aren’t beyond repair.”

  “We will get back there. I intend to do everything in my damn power to get us there.”

  He snakes his arm around my hip, bringing me closer. We both sigh, and I watch his eyes close before I allow mine to do the same.

  “Is that what this is all about? This trip?”

  “That’s exactly what this is about.”

  I hide my smile. “Where are we going?”

  “Bali.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Take my hand,” Benjamin says as we file out of the airport among many other bright-eyed tourists. The Indonesian air is so thick I can hardly breathe. I take his outstretched hand, knowing if I don’t, there will be a very probable possibility I’ll lose him on the way out of here.

  We’re lacking the security we’d usually have following us on a trip of this magnitude, which is worrisome, considering how present he and I have been lately in the news. But Benjamin’s made it very clear he intends to have me to himself, with no distractions. Dimitri had to sit this one out.

  We approach a short man holding a sign with Benjamin’s name on it. “Hello, Mr. Scott. I’m Farel. I will be your chauffeur for the duration of your visit.”

  “Pleasure, Farel.” They shake hands, and Ben gestures to me. “This is my girlfriend, Darcy.”

  “Welcome to Bali. Right this way. The car is parked just outside. Is this your first trip here?”

  “Second for me. First for her.”

  Like a stupid teenager, I’m stuck on the word girlfriend, pleased to hear him say it to a stranger. The drive to the villa is long and draining, considering the lack of sleep and jet lag, which has descended upon us both. When we finally arrive, Benjamin ushers me from the car with apprehension, waiting for my reaction. Which is stupor. I whip my head from the monstrous resort home to his face in disbelief.

  The private villa is entirely encased in crystal clear glass, surrounded by lush green vegetation and tall, straight palm trees. A narrow stone path leads us to the whitewashed French door. He lets me race ahead of him first, obviously savoring my reaction. There seem to be endless rooms. The main living spaces are spacious, teeming with flowers and fresh fruit. Colorful mimosas are laid out on the table for us. My mind implodes at the sight of the plunge pool, which has an entire side of glass dedicated to overlook the ocean, just a few paces of sand away.

  “So, good choice?” Benjamin asks warmly, informing me he’s been watching me spin in circles.

  “This is unreal.”

  “This is our reality for the next four days. Ultimate seclusion. No one here but you and me.” He circles my waist with his arms.

  “I like that idea.”

  “Are you tired? I know the flight was brutal.”

  “I can survive if you have something you want to do.”

  “No, get some sleep. Everything will still be here when you wake up.” He kisses me, offering a seemingly unending supply of tender care. His gentleness is disarming but appreciated. This trip feels like a force of nature, the remedy to our problems. We’ve only just arrived, and I’m reassured we’re going to come out of this stronger than going in.

  I wake a few hours later, not because I’m ready to. My curling stomach has flipped and forced me out of my comatose state. Jet lag has descended, and the only way to get rid of it is a cold shower. Shedding my nightgown, I step into the shower with hopes that the nausea will miraculously disappear. However, within minutes, I’m jumping out of the glass fully drenched, just making the toilet to heave violently into the bowl that reeks of strong bleach. To make sure I’m done, I lay on my knees, my burning cheek against my arm propped on the seat. When it’s clear that my stomach has stopped turning, I pick myself up off the puddle I’ve created and reenter the shower, hoping it doesn’t happen again. After brushing my teeth vigorously, I drape on a delicate blue sundress and exit the room, in search of the mogul I’m in love with.

  I find him barefoot on the patio in jeans and a white t-shirt, leaning against the railing on the phone, always working. I slide the door open, hit by a wave of boiling heat, and smile when I catch his eye. He holds his arm open, and I walk into him, glowing at this picture.

  Benjamin and this backdrop.

  “Yes. Yes, tomorrow. No exceptions. Yes. Goodbye.” He hangs up, leaving his phone on the laptop set on the wood railing. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just a little sick from the plane, I think. I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You want to lie down some more?”

  “No, I’m fine, really. What have you been doing?”

  “I spoke to a few people, Rebecca included. She told me to say hello to you.”

  The mention of Benjamin’s sister, the only member of his family who can stand me, is welcome. “How is she?”

  “Pregnant.” He chuckles fondly at my gaping.

  “That’s so wonderful! How far along is she?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  “I’m so happy for her. That’s amazing.”

  He nods, kissing my forehead. “I had a surprise for you, but I don’t know if we should do it now.”

  “I’m fine, Ben. What is it?”

  “Come with me.” I take his outstretched hand, following him down the beaten path. As we near the water, my feet sink into warm white sand.

  A table is isolated under a towering canopy, blocking the scorching sun from the feast on display. The sight is a dream, organized and staged to perfection. I smile widely, squeezing his hand. He raises it, pressing his lips to my knuckles.

  ***

  I sip my second glass of sangria, completely unwilling to take my eyes off the man in across from me.

  Benjamin lifts himself up from the seat abruptly. “Aren’t you hot?”

  With a dizzy grin, I nod. I’m drunk. Stupefied, I watch as he reaches behind his back and grabs the top of his shirt. The white fabric falls to the sandy floor, and he reaches down and begins unbuttoning his jeans.

  “Ben! Someone could see you!” I set my drink down with a thud.

  “Private beach, Darcy.”

  He discards the pants too, leaving him scantily clad in black briefs. I admire his toned body, frozen in my seat.

  “You coming?”

  He sheds the remainder of his clothes en route to the water. Despite his assurances, I sweep the area thoroughly, searching for other people. Benjamin is unperturbed, waist deep in the water. Mirroring the mixture of colors in the sky, the water is relatively calm and inviting.

  I take a deep breath and cross my legs, admiring him from afar as he dives under the waves. He surfaces and raises his arms, smoothing his hair back, knocking the breath from my lungs. Jesus. He’s stra
ight out of a Harlequin novel.

  Standing, I remove my dress and undergarments on the trek through the mounds of sand, fully aware his eyes are on me. Thankfully, the liquor is making me brave. I stop at the shoreline hesitantly. “Isn’t this feeding time? The sharks are going to get us.”

  He laughs, swimming forward to me. “The only thing that’s going to get you is me.”

  “Is that so?” I giggle as his arms entrap my waist, dragging me to him. “Oh.”

  He isn’t kidding. The proximity of our nakedness and the rushing of the waves shoving us together have made my skin tingle and his body rise to the occasion.

  “Yes, oh.” He tilts his head up to meet my lips. We connect passionately, his arms keeping me afloat. I wrap myself around his neck, his wet hair soaking my palms.

  “I want you,” he breathes the moment he breaks away. He shivers beneath my searching caresses before reaching up, fisting my hair in a tight grip. I cling to him as he straightens, walking toward the shoreline with me in his arms.

  I’ve completely lost the unease at the thought of others by the time we’re on sand. The air suffocates us between our persistent mouths while he lays me down on the soft, moist sand. With a good idea of how messy this will be, I pull him down on me, giggling when the water hits us, causing us to awkwardly collide.

  He shakes his head, chuckling. “This seemed a lot better in my head.”

  “I like it.” I press my lips to his. He drags his fingers over my heaving breasts, and my blushing nipples stiffen against the feather-light touch. He continues further down over my ribs, the dip of my waist. I’m trembling when he passes my pelvic bone, aching for him. He slides two fingers through my clenching apex with intent to relieve. I tangle my hands into his sand-soaked hair.

  “I want to feel you inside me,” I profess, not interested in foreplay. His eyes sparkle at the confession, digging my own impatience. Obliging me, he spreads me out with the weight of his body and enters me slowly, his mouth gaping in pleasure. His next thrust triples in strength, forming a familiar rhythm neither of us can resist.

  “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he says darkly, adoring my jaw line.

  I cling to him, unaware of water or sand or the setting sun. “I feel so close to you.”

  He laces our fingers together, digging both our hands into the ground, continuing to plow right through me, determined to propel us to infinity. By the time we slow, trembling around one another, the sun is long gone.

  ***

  Humming, I tilt my head back into Benjamin’s skilled fingers. He’s been massaging coconut shampoo into my hair for about five minutes now, and I’ve reveled in every second. I lean my body into his, calm for the first time in weeks…months.

  I knew we needed this, but sitting here, without either of our cells disrupting the serenity, I almost lost the aspect of seclusion, of intimacy.

  “I’m really happy we’re here,” I say when he motions for me to rinse.

  “This place is amazing.”

  The shower water washes the suds of fragrant shampoo from my hair. “No. I mean, yes, it is, but I meant us. I’m happy we’re here…together.”

  His eyes swim with warmth when I tilt my cheek into his outstretched hand. “We always will be.”

  “And you’re so sure of this how?” I grab the loofa, squirt a healthy amount of body wash onto it, and drag the small, foamy bundle of material over his shoulders, moving along the curve of his collar bone.

  “Because I love you,” he says, his voice echoing against the glass. “We always come back to each other, Darce. There’s no staying apart. I’ve come to that realization by now.”

  His words ignite something deep inside of me, something pushed into a forbidden crevasse. The past year without him, the past month with him…we haven’t been the same. Part of me wasn’t sure we’d be able to recover what we’d lost in our time apart. When he notices how my eyes are shiny with water that isn’t a result of stinging soap, his face etches with concern. I’m more fragile than I’ve ever been. I thought jail would make me harder, make things seem uncomplicated in comparison, but I’m disoriented. My whole life seems disoriented.

  Benjamin gathers me in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been so scared that we…that we wouldn’t be able to get past what happened.”

  He pulls back, taking hold of my face. “You’re not going to lose me. You never did, even when you were gone.”

  An overwhelming rush of solace drapes over me.

  You’re not going to lose me.

  Already surrounded in his grip, I lift myself, circling my legs around his hips.

  “Never.” I shake my head, my lips to his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw. “Never.”

  He plants a steady hand to the wall of the shower, and my back feels the chill of the tile.

  His face is buried in my neck, his breath short. “Jesus Christ. Darcy.”

  We caress each other with longing, our movements searching. His eyes twinkle when our noses, pressed so close, nuzzle, his breath sweet and hot against my lips.

  “Marry me.”

  I freeze against him instantly, positive I heard him wrong. “What?”

  He meets my gaze of shock with a serious swallow, and I stop breathing altogether.

  “Marry me, Darcy. I…I want to. I want this, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

  I open my mouth hesitantly. “You want to marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?” I say, completely disbelieving.

  “Say yes,” he orders with a nervous smile.

  “Yes!” I respond, the word slipping through my lips at lightning speed. “Fuck yes.”

  Blissful by my reply, he crushes his mouth to mine with a low moan, reminding me of his fear of commitment that has miraculously disappeared with those words. I want to be all over him, all at once. We scratch and claw, soaking in the surprise. His hands travel over my flesh, and yet I can hardly feel it. My skin seems unattached to my skeleton, my nerves and veins conjoining together to blow me apart.

  “Tomorrow, Darcy,” he mumbles into my mouth. “I want to marry you tomorrow, here.”

  I nod, hardly listening to him. I’d do anything right now.

  “Yes?” he gasps, eyes wide.

  Marry him. Here. Tomorrow.

  Even when I force myself to think about it, the answer remains unchanged.

  “You don’t even want to think on it? I mean, we’re eloping…on our own. Do you want that? Are you sure you want this?”

  I smile brightly, enamored by his vulnerabilities. “I don’t care where or when we do it, Benjamin. I’ll marry you anywhere, any day, under any circumstance. Now kiss me.”

  “God, I love you,” he whispers, closing the short space between us. I can’t stop smiling even immersed in his kiss, not surprised that my speech has suddenly failed me.

  ***

  The steam clears my skin, the water draining over my body as I stand beneath the nozzle, letting the warmth relax my tense muscles. Last night was sleepless, and for a good part of the morning my eyes remained locked on the ceiling.

  I’m getting married. Today.

  My inkling is that this trip was premeditated and for this one purpose. Benjamin’s phone call on the porch makes complete sense now, when he was demanding for someone to have things ready by today.

  He knew I’d say yes. I’m not sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed, wondering how enamored I must be of my love to give him so much assurance. I’m going to marry him today, in some dress I packed and devoid of guests. We’ve stuck to only one tradition: last night Benjamin slept in a separate room, despite my complaints, not wishing to tempt luck.

  I’ve known this man for nearly two years, and for most of that, his idea of love was a prison sentence, a mistake to all parties. His role models for love were traumatically poor, his mother and father having ruined the concept with their distaste for one another’s presence, and Benjamin f
elt it all. The fact that he even wants to marry me now is a shock. Maybe it’s the reason I’m so fearful, now that the initial high has settled, and part of me is expecting him to change his mind.

  I try my hardest not to nick myself with the razor as I roughly go over my necessary body parts. My hands won’t stop shaking. By the time I’m done grooming, it’s been over an hour. I wrap the towel around my body, tucking it into the top to secure it, and walk back into the room.

  Lying on the mattress are a clear clothing bag and a floral bouquet.

  He didn’t…

  I unzip the bag, revealing a white wedding dress. I pull it out and hold it up. It drapes to the ground in soft satin, a flowing material that will ripple against the wind off the ocean. I admire the design, the low dip in the back, and my pre-wedding jitters reach an all-time high. I’m reminded that Benjamin dropped this off and is here somewhere, also getting ready, likely overthinking like I am.

  Refusing to spend my entire morning in reflection, I apply a shimmer to my eyes and a minimal layer of lipstick, deciding natural is the best way to go. My hair will remain down and, God willing, will not become a knot on the ocean breeze. Standing in only a pair of white lace panties, I stare down at the dress and swallow hard.

  Doris is going to kill me.

  I slide the dress over my head, letting the material glide over my skin, caressing my curves until it hangs, ending just above my ankles. The straps are delicately thin, the v-cut neckline descending down onto my breasts tastefully. The moment it’s on, my mouth feels like cotton. Blood is speeding through my veins.

  This is all real.

  Distracted by a distant noise from outside the room, and recognizing it instantly, I’m unable to sustain control. The noise is Benjamin, and I can’t stay away. Knowing I shouldn’t, I peek through the light curtains, needing the glimpse of him.

  He’s pacing barefoot on the new walkway that has been added for the ceremony, his phone to his ear. He’s dressed in cream-colored slacks, a white dress shirt tucked into them that hugs his defined physique. The material of the shirt waves against the wind. His arm sports the watch I gave him, gold and black onyx, and his hair is wild and untamed in the wind, but he isn’t focused on it.