Beauty From Pain (Beauty 1)

I decide I’m done wondering. “Tell me who Blake Phillips is.”

She pales as she freezes in place. Her words come out as a whisper. “Why would you ask me that?”

I don’t like the way she’s affected by a question about him. “Because he called while you were in the shower.”

She busies herself with adjusting her bra to avoid looking at me. “You answered my phone?”

“The ‘Sex on Fire’ ringtone sort of caught my attention. I answered it because I want to know who the hell Blake Phillips is and what he wants with you.”

She stares blankly at me. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to tell me who he is or because I’m acting like a possessive Neanderthal. “I’m not used to this, Laurelyn. You know everything about my previous relationships. Everything! Including what a stretch this is for me, and I know so little about yours. I want to know who he is to you.”

I’m almost certain she’s going to tell me and then I feel a pang of fear. Maybe this isn’t something I want to hear, but it’s too late. “He was my record producer.”

I toss her phone toward her onto the bed so it lands screen side up featuring an affectionate picture of them together. “Does everyone kiss their record producer like that?”

She shuts her eyes and turns away from the phone. “Blake and I were spending a lot of time together while we were working on my album. One thing led to another and we started seeing each other. He told me it wouldn’t look good for him to be in a relationship with someone he was representing, and I believed him. It sounded like a legit reason to me, so we agreed to keep our relationship secret to protect our careers. I later found out he wanted to keep us secret because he was married with three kids. I was devastated. And I walked away from all of it. Him. The record deal. The music career I’d worked so hard for. Everything.”

Now, I really hate the motherfucker. “When did it end?”

“Early December.” That was only a couple of weeks before she came here—not near long enough for her to be over him if she was in love with him.

“How long were you together?”

“Three months.” Almost the same amount of time she’s been with me.

I lean over with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. “Do you love him?”

She doesn’t answer right away and my throat tries to eat my heart. “There was a time I thought I did, but that was before I knew the truth.” I want her to reach out and touch me as a sign of reassurance, but she doesn’t. “I loved a lie, and the truth shattered anything I felt for him.”

I want to look up at her, but I can’t. I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “So, you feel nothing for him now?”

“No. I can’t love a lie and that’s all we were.” Her words are sobering. Hadn’t I asked her for a relationship based on a lie? He tricked her into being his dirty little secret, and I outright asked her to volunteer as mine.

I lift my face to see her standing in front of me, but her eyes avoid mine. That’s when I know it. I’m a motherfucker just like Blake Phillips.

I slide off the bed to my knees in front of her and wrap my arms around her legs. “I’m so sorry for not treating you the way I should have, Laurelyn.”

She strokes her hands across the top of my hair. “What are you talking about? You’ve never treated me poorly. You spoil me rotten.”

I gaze up at her from where I’m on my knees. “I asked you for a relationship based on lies. I kept you as my secret from the world until I decided I needed you when Dad got sick. I’m no better than he is.”

43

Laurelyn Prescott

Jack Henry is in front of me on his knees, talking about things that aren’t true. He presses his face against my stomach and I twirl my fingers in his hair. “No, that’s not true at all. Don’t ever compare yourself to him.”

I take his hands and tug on them. “Get up from there.”

He stands and reaches for my face. “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t understand what he means. “Stop this. You’ve never hurt me the way he did.”

He’s stroking his thumbs over my cheekbones. “I’m sorry for all the secrecy, for making you feel like you weren’t important enough to know the real me. But I’m most sorry because I have f**ked you—I don’t know how many times—and never made love to you.”

I realize I’m crying when he uses his thumbs to catch tears as they roll down my face. “Please, don’t cry. I never want to be the one to cause you tears.”

He leans down and tenderly presses his lips to mine. I open my mouth and he slips his tongue inside to meet mine for a familiar yet new sensual waltz.

We’ve shared countless kisses. They were almost always heated and demanding, but this one is entirely different. It tells me things he can’t or won’t say because it goes against everything he intends for our relationship.

Jack Henry cares for me. If his kisses don’t tell me, his touch does. His caress is so tender. He handles me as if I’m a precious, delicate treasure.

We move onto the bed and his mouth feathers kisses lightly down my chin and throat. His mouth continues traveling lower as he puts his fingers inside one of the cups and finds my nipple. He rubs and rolls it, causing it to stand at attention for his touch before he pulls my bra down and takes it in his mouth.

I love the feel of his tongue against my sensitive nipple and something between a moan and the sound of his name escapes my mouth as I lace my fingers through his hair.

When his mouth leaves my breast, he unfastens the bra clasp and frees me from my lace entrapment. I grasp his shirt over his stomach and push it up because I want to feel his flesh against mine. He grabs it by the neck and pulls it over his head in one swift motion before he lowers his head and takes my other nipple in his mouth.

It doesn’t matter where he makes contact with my body. Each touch sends a wave of sensation directly between my legs, and I grow wet for him.

His mouth glides lower down my belly and then to my hipbones. He kisses each of them and everything in between before he pulls back on the waistband of my panties to bury his nose inside. I hear him inhale deeply. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Kneeling between my legs, he grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls downward as I raise my hips. He lifts my feet off the bed to free the lace from my ankles and then tosses them to the floor next to his shirt. I sit up to slip my loose bra from my shoulders and add it to the growing pile of clothes.