Do Us Part (The Dumont Diaries (#4)) by Alessandra Torre Read Free Book Online

neck, and kisses me.

CHAPTER 12
    D amn . I never could hide from his kiss. The communication line between us hasn’t lost any of its strength during our time apart. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask my permission before pressing his lips to mine, my mouth opening instantly, my hands reaching up and gripping his shirt, grabbing the fabric with need, my desire to touch any and every part of him overriding my attempt to be passive.
    Everything I feel, everything I miss, goes into that kiss. I tell my story of heartbreak and need and desire with my tongue, with my begging strokes and carnal swipes. And his mouth speaks, with possessive, aggressive movement, his breath ragged, his mouth taking mine in a nonstop exploration and reclaiming of what was once his.
    A woman’s desperation is most clearly spoken in a kiss. And I’m afraid, in this moment, that I bare my soul to him. Everything that I have contained, held back, lied to myself about, comes to the surface, all of my emotions revealed at once, both to me and to him.
    I can’t take it, can’t take the memory of his touch reawakening. I can’t take my feelings laid out, naked before this man. I push on his shirt, breaking the connection of our lips, pressing hard with my fists until we are fully separated, his eyes tight on mine, desperation in their midst.
    He stares at me, his chest moving beneath my hands, his eyes almost accusatory in their intensity and dismay. “Candy,” he whispers, sliding his hand around and cupping my neck. “I had no idea …”
    I push, ripping myself from the seat and the burn of his hands, grabbing my purse and running for the door, passing through hallways and lobbies. I don’t stop and compose myself, don’t listen when the receptionist calls out my name. I have one focus, and I zero in on it. Get the fuck out of here and into the safety of my car.
    Damn the payment for our session.
    Damn the blonde bitch in the Range Rover who will see my exit.
    Damn Nathan and his fucking kiss.
    Damn the doctor with his questions and how he will react to what just happened.
    I don’t stop until I am several miles away, jerking the wheel sideways and bringing the rental car to a quick, shuddering stop in an abandoned strip mall. There, I put the car in park, drop my head to the steering wheel, and cry.
    I can’t do it. I can’t sit across from him in a courtroom and listen to a judge dissolve our marriage. I can’t see the two of them together, can’t see the look on his face when he stares into her eyes. I will physically break in half if I see them kiss, or see her smile, or if they embrace once the verdict is rendered. This should have been easy: a sterile environment with a doctor, a few easy questions, and we part. How did something so simple turn into something so terrible?
    Now he knows. He knows how I feel. He knows that while he was acting, I was sincere. He knows that I am weak and vulnerable, and that he has hurt me. Everything I have fought so hard to project — my cool, confident demeanor — just crashed and burned in that cramped office. Now he knows the truth. And I look the fool.

CHAPTER 13
    I don’t know that I will ever heal from Nathan. It has been three weeks since our kiss, and the cut is just as deep and fresh as it was that day. I have buried myself in activity, in an insane hope that I might escape his memory by spending money, doing crosswords, and shopping for a car.
    I rented an apartment a block from the beach, close enough that when I open my windows I can hear the faint sound of waves. I left my old life in storage, figuring that I can grab from there what I need, when and if I ever need it. I want to start fresh, to erase any memory of my Crystal Palace days, and any of my time with Nathan.
    His money makes that hard. I can’t help but be grateful every time I swipe my debit card, walk through my well-appointed apartment, or open the door to my barely used Jeep Grand Cherokee. I have dipped into my