I'd figure this out. I'd keep her close, and I'd make it right . . . somehow.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lydia
I hummed softly, stretching my body and then turning over, burrowing back into my pillow. With the light in the room already bright, even behind my closed lids, I cracked one eye open as memories of what had happened the night before streamed through my mind. "Oh my God," I breathed, sitting up slightly and then falling back down on my pillow, my eyes wide open now, staring up at the canopy above me.
Brogan was gone, but it must have only been recently that he'd vacated the bed because when I glanced at the pillow he'd slept on, the impression of his head was still there. I smiled at the memory of his arms around me, his feet tangled with mine, something I noticed each time I half woke throughout the night. I had never had that, but I had loved it. Loved being held. Cocooned.
When I thought about what had happened before that, I squeezed my legs together, feeling the slight ache where Brogan had been. Butterflies took flight in my belly. Did I feel embarrassed? Regretful? Maybe I should, but I didn't. I only felt deliciously sore and wonderfully satisfied, my limbs like jelly. And I felt . . . peaceful, despite no resolutions to life's problems. In fact, if anything, I'd learned that things were more complex and challenging than I thought they were.
I cringed slightly when I remembered bawling in Brogan's arms, but he'd been right. I'd just been so overwhelmed by the intensity of what we'd done, by all the mind-bending orgasms, all the pent-up emotions, all the long-held worries and problems that finally broke free in a flood of tears. I'd never cried about any of it, and the pressure had been building for years. The power of our lovemaking had finally broken the dam. And I was just a little embarrassed about that part, but I also thought it was the main reason I felt so good, cleansed. Even stronger somehow.
I swung my feet out of bed, glancing at the clock, my eyes widening when I saw it was almost noon. Walking naked to the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and tried to smooth my hair into some semblance of normalcy. Realizing it was impossible, I turned on the shower and got in, sighing as the hot, pelting water relaxed my muscles even further. After washing my hair and shaving everywhere, a small thrill went through me when I wondered if I'd sleep with Brogan again tonight. I wanted to. God, I really did.
But I was also a little nervous about where this left us, and I still had the worry for my brother hanging over my head. The only thing I could hope for was that Brogan was able to buy Stuart some time and that Stuart would see this as a sort of wake-up call to get his life together. I felt relieved that Brogan was willing to do anything to help Stuart at all. I knew he wasn't doing it for Stuart, I knew that. He was doing it for me and that filled me with warmth and gratitude. And I'd help Stuart in whatever way I could, too, but if truth be told, maybe Stuart wasn't cut out to be a businessman. I'd never thought he derived much pleasure from it. He'd never seemed to really enjoy the business aspect of De Havilland Enterprises. What he'd enjoyed were the financial benefits—the ones that, eventually, he'd all but made certain would completely dry up.
Perhaps there was something else that would make Stuart happier anyway. In some ways he'd never been given an alternative—it had always just been expected that he'd run the family business when our father passed. I had to wonder now if he'd been given more of a choice, would he have chosen to do something different.
Standing in my bra and panties after having just blow-dried my hair, I heard a knock on my bedroom door and called, "Come in." Brogan came into the bathroom a few seconds later and stopped in the doorway, his eyes roaming my body. My heart lurched and a tingle started between my legs. He was wearing another pair of worn-looking jeans, resting low on his hips, and a white T-shirt with some bar logo on it. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my body, leaning down to nuzzle my neck. I bent it to the side to give him more access, shooting him a small smile in the mirror. I let my eyes linger on the way we looked together: him so tall and dark, me blonde and—though I'd never been called short at five seven—so much smaller in comparison. In so many ways we were opposites, and yet, in so many ways, we seemed like the perfect fit. We always had.
"How are you this morning, or . . . afternoon?" he asked, kissing my ear again and inhaling against my hair. A thrill shot through me. He didn’t seem to be regretful. I needed that. His happiness, too. How many years had I gone without happiness? And when had I stopped noticing?
I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck as he brought his arms lower on my waist. I tipped my head back to gaze into his face. "Very relaxed," I said. "I guess I needed the sleep . . . among other things. You sure do know how to treat your employees, Mr. Ramsay."
He chuckled. "I suppose you are still my employee, for now. Good thing there're no rules against fraternization at my company."
I raised a brow. "How convenient for you."
"Very," he murmured, bringing his lips to mine. He kissed me slowly once before pulling back. "It's killing me to cut this short, but unfortunately, I have a meeting in the city, and I have to get you all set up at my place there. Another game of war later?" He cocked a dark brow.
I laughed, letting go of his neck and scooting past him. "I thought we made a peace treaty last night."
"Is that what that was?" he asked. I heard something in his voice that caused me to turn, my shirt held to my chest. The look on his face was troubled.