No Inhibitions (The Sinful 3)

Unfortunately, his track record with the two closest women who’d once been in his life—his mother and ex-wife—had proven differently, but Remy wasn’t ready or willing to discuss the first woman who’d completely shattered his heart. He’d thought Rachel was different, that she’d accepted all of him—the good, the bad, and the ugly. He’d believed he could give her everything she wanted . . . but clearly she’d found him lacking, as well.

“How long were you married?” Tempest asked, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

“Seven years. I met her our third year in college. We came from similar backgrounds,” he said, not stating that Rachel had also been through foster care and had been searching for acceptance and love. And for a while, they’d had that bond, had shared similar goals about having a family and future together or else Remy never would have married her.

“When we graduated, we got married, and she worked as a secretary at a law firm while I started my own construction business, which I built from the ground up,” he went on while Tempest ate her fries and listened avidly. “We struggled for a few years, as most newlywed couples do, but eventually the company took off and we were doing really well financially. Except the more money I made, the more money Rachel spent . . . and it never seemed like enough to keep her happy.”

Finished with his burger, he wiped his fingers on his napkin, tossed it onto his plate, and pushed the dish aside before leaning back in the booth and finishing his story. “Seven years into the marriage, at the point where I thought we’d be starting a family, I instead found out that she was having an affair with an attorney in her office, while I was out working my ass off to build this business and give her everything I thought she deserved.”

Tempest gave him a sympathetic look, which he hated. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel sorry for him.

“So, after claiming fucking neglect, Rachel filed for divorce,” he said, unable to keep the bitter tone out of his voice as he recalled that shocking and false accusation. “And with the help of the law firm she worked for, she managed to take most of our savings, and I was forced to liquidate all the equipment I’d bought for the construction company to satisfy her settlement, which left me in a position of starting over.”

“What a bitch,” Tempest muttered. “I hope I don’t ever meet her in person because I’d scratch her eyes out.”

Remy chuckled and shook his head. “Though I appreciate you coming to my defense, she’s not worth the time or effort,” he said, and meant it.

The waitress came up to their table at that moment, and Remy was grateful for the interruption. While he took care of the bill, Tempest excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. As Remy watched her go, he had the fleeting thought that he wished he’d met her instead of Rachel all those years ago. Maybe then his future would have turned out differently. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so jaded and damaged as a result of a gold-digging mother and a selfish, narcissistic ex-wife who’d destroyed any hope he might have had of being unconditionally loved by someone.

Chapter 9

As Tempest left the restaurant with Remy and they strolled back toward his place in companionable silence, she was very much aware of the subtle but promising changes between them. They’d walked into the pub a few hours ago as two guarded people with walls around their emotions and a pact to have a no-strings-attached affair and ended up trusting each other with some of their most painful, intimate secrets and memories.

Two people didn’t just share deeply personal things like that and not come out the other side unaffected.

Now, they were leaving the eatery with a different view and understanding of one another. Tempest had never told anyone about her greatest insecurities or her need to be self-sufficient so she’d never let her brothers down. So they’d know she was capable and they could now, especially, devote their time and attention to the women in their lives who needed them the most. But what Tempest had kept close to her vest tonight was that wishful, romantic part of her that wanted to be loved just as unconditionally as her brothers adored Arabella and Elle. To be the center of someone’s world and for hi

m to be the same for her.

Remy had made it clear more than once that he wasn’t that guy for her, and while she respected his honesty and understood his reasons after hearing about his unpleasant divorce—and she’d told him she was too busy for a relationship—she’d always known that if the right man came along who saw beyond her façade and treasured her heart, she’d make room for him in her life.

She’d always wanted a happily ever after, and someday, when the time was right, she believed she’d find it.

But for now, she was content with Remy and their arrangement . . . and their new status quo. Everything about their conversations tonight had been unexpected but incredibly enlightening. And most notably, that push-pull tension that had been a source of frustration between them for the past three years was gone. In its place was just an easy, comfortable acceptance and friendship. The attraction was still there, the sexual chemistry always buzzing beneath the surface, but now there seemed to be a mutual appreciation that went beyond the physical desire that had originally brought them together.

Tempest was startled out of her thoughts when she felt Remy’s big, warm hand slide against her palm, and his fingers interlocked with hers. Her heart leapt in her chest at the intimate gesture, something she never would have expected from an unsentimental man like Remy who professed he was all wrong for her.

She turned her head and glanced up at his face, but he kept his gaze trained straight ahead, as though everything was completely normal. “You don’t have to hold my hand, Remy,” she said, teasing him. “This wasn’t a date.”

“I know it wasn’t,” he replied, and looked down at her with a warm smile. “Just keeping you safe by my side.”

Though the sun had set and the evening was cool, there were light posts along the sidewalk that illuminated their way back to Remy’s. There wasn’t anyone or anything around to threaten her. And even though her brothers had always protected her, this was different. Remy’s attention felt different. Dare she say . . . romantic?

Remy would undoubtedly scoff at that notion.

“Okay, whatever you say, Tramp,” she said softly, affectionately, this moment akin to how the scruffy male dog in the animated Disney movie had been protective of Lady when they’d been out on the streets together.

He rolled his eyes at her in a playful way as they neared the parking lot in front of his office, where she’d left her car. “What is with your fascination with fairy tales?”

She shrugged as she led him toward the Lexus coupe Maddux had bought her for her birthday a few years ago. “Growing up the way I did, I needed to believe in something good, and it’s a known fact that almost all fairy tales have a happy ending.”

“And you want that,” he said as they stopped at the driver’s side door to her vehicle, which automatically unlocked from the keyless remote in her purse.

His words weren’t a question so much as a statement. She already knew Remy’s stance on long term, that this time with him was a luxury. A temporary illicit affair that came with no guarantees or promises—hell, she’d agreed to their mutual terms.

But she wasn’t going to lie.

“Yes, I want that,” she said. “Someday.”