Page 15 of Winter Beginnings
Her hands pressed into my shoulders, nails digging slightly. We found a rhythm that left us gasping, sweat beading on our skin. My senses drowned in the taste of her, the smell of her, the heat of her body clenched around mine.
A crescendo built. My heart pounded, ears ringing. She arched beneath me, eyes fluttering shut as her release took over, a broken moan hitching in her throat. The sight alone triggered my own climax, my mind whiting out with euphoria. I clutched her close, feeling every muscle shudder, waves of ecstasy pulsing through me until we both collapsed, panting.
We lay there, hearts hammering, limbs entangled. Slowly, the world returned—her breath brushing my cheek, the faint glow of the bedside lamp flickering across her sweaty brow. My chest felt oddly full. I brushed a lock of hair off her face, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. She met my gaze, eyes soft, before letting them flutter gently closed.
I rose to flick off the lamp, returning to her side. She murmured a soft sigh, curling against me under the heavy blankets. I stroked her shoulder, trying not to think about the morning. I shouldn’t have done this without telling her who I really am. But it was too late, and she seemed content for the night. Slowly, I allowed myself to join her in drifting off to sleep.
Dawn light seeped through the curtains, stirring me awake. Rory still dozed, hair fanned across the pillow. My chest clenched at how peacefully she rested. I brushed a kiss on her temple beforesliding out of bed, tugging on my boxers and shirt. Guilt gnawed at my insides. I need to tell her. I can’t keep lying.
As if sensing my turmoil, she stirred, blinking awake. A smile curved her lips. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I murmured, forcing a half-smile in return. My conscience roared. Do it. “Listen, Rory, I…We need to talk.”
Her smile wavered. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. “What’s wrong?”
Heart pounding, I sank onto the edge of the bed. “I…there’s something about me you don’t know. I’ve been avoiding it, but you deserve honesty.”
Worry flickered across her features. “What do you mean?”
I inhaled, arms tensing. “I’m adopted…kind of like Bramble.” My attempt at lightening the mood fell flat, as she just stared at me, waiting for me to get to the punch line. I swallowed heavily before continuing. “My folks couldn’t have kids of their own, but they gave me a loving home. They worked blue-collar jobs, never had much money, but gave me everything that mattered.”
She watched me warily. “That’s not a bad thing, Cass.”
I swallowed. “Right, it’s not. But the thing is…my biological father was Cyrus Barrington. A 23andMe test matched me to him a few years back. I moved to Wintervale to confront him, but I never got the nerve before he died.”
Shock blanched her face. “You’re…Cyrus’s son? His heir?”
“Biologically, yes,” I said, chest tight. “My parents were told by the adoption facilitator that my birth mother was pregnant with me and in her third trimester when a car accident took her life. The doctors were able to save me, but the agency said that no one came forward to claim me, so that was how Iwas put into the system and later adopted. I discovered, through the DNA test, that my biological father was Cyrus Barrington. Obviously, he never wanted anything to do with me. I didn’t claim the property or anything. I let it go to foreclosure, then Edna and Theodore fought over it, and eventually it landed in your hands.”
Rory’s eyes blazed with confusion and a hint of anger. “So you’ve known all this time about your connection here yet took the contracting job anyway?”
Cheeks burning, I nodded. “I was curious, okay? About the man who didn’t want me. I wanted to see the house he’d let decay. But I kept quiet because I don’t want to be linked to the Barrington name. Besides, what would a bachelor like me do with a huge Victorian mansion?”
She reeled, hugging the blanket closer, betrayal flickering in her gaze. “You slept with me last night,” she said, voice trembling, “knowing this secret. You couldn’t tell me first? You didn’t trust me not to spill it?”
My gut twisted. “I wanted to tell you—I was going to, but everything happened so fast. I worried you’d see me differently.”
“Of course I see you differently,” she snapped, tears pricking her eyes. “Why hide something so huge? I would’ve kept your confidence if that’s what you wanted.”
I raked a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I messed up. I wanted you…us…without the shadow of Cyrus in the way.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, jaw tight. “And now? Now it’s all in the way. Leave. I need time to think, Cass.”
Nodding miserably, I dressed in silence, pulling on my jeans. Guilt wracked me. I should’ve told her before we made love. When I dared meet her gaze, heartbreak mingled with anger. I stepped toward her, but she turned her face away, tearsthreatening. My chest ached as I recognized how badly I might have wrecked this.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice breaking. She said nothing, staring at the wall. With a final, heavy sigh, I slipped out, snatching my coat from the floor.
Descending the stairs, each step felt like a hammer blow. Bramble watched from the foyer, tail wagging uncertainly, but I couldn’t muster a smile.I’ve ruined everything.I opened the door, letting icy air blast my face, then trudged to my truck.
Driving away, shame consumed me. The mansion shrank in my rearview mirror, leaving me with a hollow sense of loss. I’d found something real with Rory, but I’d let the shame of who I was overshadow it. Now, I had no idea if I’d ever win back her trust.
Chapter Seven
Rory
I awoke to find myself alone beneath the covers, my body still humming with echoes of the night I’d shared with Cass. My clothes lay strewn across the bedroom floor, a tangible reminder of how we’d yielded to passion after so many near-misses and hesitant touches. But the flush of memory quickly gave way to a hollow twist in my stomach when I remembered why I was alone. Cass left—because I told him to, I reminded myself, the ache in my chest intensifying.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I pushed aside the blankets and forced myself to dress. My jeans felt scratchy on skin still sensitive from his caresses. At the first hint of a teardrop, I bit down hard on my lip, determined not to cry. I’d told him to go, but that didn’t mean my heart wasn’t breaking.He’s Cyrus Barrington’s rightful heir, I repeated inwardly. He hid the truth—shared himself with me physically before I even knew who he was. Anger and longing clashed in my chest.