Lost In Us (Lost 1)

"Thanks," I snap and start walking. He grabs my arm as I pass him. In a gentle way that says I can still walk away if I want. But I decide not to. If I could take Natalie earlier, I can deal with him now. I have to deal with him. This is why I came here, after all.

"Let's go in here." He motions to the double doors behind him. "To talk."

I bite my lip, pondering whether being alone with him is really such a great idea. But then again, our talk will be the kind that is best kept away from other people's ears.

"Fine," I say.

He opens the doors, gesturing for me to go first. The room is dark when I step inside, but I find the switch by the door, and light assaults my eyes within seconds. A much smaller version of the room we were having dinner in lies in front of me, though the tables are completely empty—no tablecloth or anything else, and there are no chairs. I lean against the nearest table. James remains in front of the doors, a few feet away, his arms folded on his chest.

"If you didn't want to come tonight, you didn't have to. But showing up like this, with Parker… I don't remember you being this cruel."

"And how long did you wait to call Natalie?" I spit, keeping my eyes firmly on his shoulder.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You can't come alone to these things. You might not have noticed, but no one is unaccompanied tonight."

"Why did you call her of all people?"

He doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice seems to have dropped an octave. "Because I knew it would hurt you the most."

"I thought I was supposed to be the cruel one."

"Let's not act like we're sixteen anymore, Serena." He walks over to me and lifts my chin with his hand until I have no choice but to look him in the eyes. "I want you to forgive me."

"That's very hard to do if I keep bumping into Natalie."

"You won't see her anymore. I won't see her anymore."

"You can't say that. She owns part of your company after all."

"I can freeze her out. I'll do whatever it takes for you to be mine again. I need you."

It's not his words that turn my

knees weak and my determination to dust. It's the desperation behind them, thinly disguised in his whisper. I can't give in. I remind myself why I came here tonight. It wasn't only to torment him. I wanted to prove to myself that I can be around him and not feel… this. Part of me still wants to prove that.

"Say something," he says. "What are you thinking?"

"That I'll never be enough for you."

"What are you talking about? You're more than enough, you're…" His voice trails away, his hand cupping my cheek. "Serena, I haven't been with another woman since that night in the factory."

"Don't lie to me," I whisper.

"I'm not. I haven't been with anyone. I don't want to be with anyone except you."

He presses his forehead to mine, and for one paralyzing second, I think he will press his lips to mine. Those full, soft marvels that have the power to set every bit of me ablaze. They haven't touched any other lips, he says. His hand still on my cheek, he peruses my shoulder with his lips, gently. Hesitating. I know he's expecting me to pull back. But I don't. I can't. I need his lips and his touch. I dig my hand in his hair, tugging him ever so close to me. His lips cover mine in a fierce clash that sends me over the edge, every ounce of will I might have had left, vanishing into thin air. His hands travel down my hips in a rough ride, as if he'd like nothing better than to rip the fabric of my dress apart. My own hands have somehow landed on the buttons of his elegant white shirt, desperately trying to undo them. I think I might really rip his shirt apart. I need to feel his skin under the tips of my fingers.

"God, Serena, I want you," he breathes when we break off the kiss. "I need you." He curves an arm around my waist, lifting me onto the table behind me. His moist lips plant a kiss on the hollow of my neck, and the blood in my veins turns to liquid fire. A scathing fire that engulfs all of me, one that only James can extinguish. His other hand slides under my dress, trailing his fingers over the skin of my inner thigh until they reach my panties. He gives a low groan against my neck, pressing his fingers against my most intimate spot. My entire body quivers, and I involuntarily arch my back. I search his lips, begging for another kiss. When he finally indulges me, the outpouring of gratification I was craving doesn't come.

The fire in my veins turns to ice, and my body quivers again—not with pleasure, but with agony. A painful lump starts forming in my throat. It's like my body is trying to remind me that nothing good will follow after this. When our passion is consumed and his body rests on top of mine, I know what will happen. Nothing between us will have changed. He'll still be plagued by the past he resents so much and his old commitment issues. A few weeks of abstinence don't erase a habit refined in years of whoring around. Natalie is, as always, close enough to remind me of that.

So when his hands travel up my back, and start undoing the zipper of my dress, no moan escapes my lips. Instead, tears stream down my cheeks, until the salty moisture reaches my lips. It's James who breaks the kiss. He touches my cheek, catching my tears on his fingers. His eyes widen. "Serena, what's wrong?"

"I don't… I can't, James." A violent wave of hiccups overcomes me, and I am not sure my next words come out in a coherent way. "It's… I know you'll hurt me again and I don't think I can make it through that once more." I jump down from the table, pushing him away with remarkable ease.

"No, no. Serena, there won't be a next time, I promise—"

"Don't m-m-make promises you can't keep," I stutter. James is rooted to his spot, watching me rearrange my dress. I stand up straight when I am finished, and look him straight in the eyes, wiping away my tears. My voice has such a steadiness to it when I speak, that I can't help but feel proud of myself. "I want to leave."