Love Drunk (Broken Lives Book 4) Read online

  “That’s why, what?” I asked, hoping it was more memories of me.

  He reached out, running the pads of his fingers over my cheekbones, then his thumb over my lower lip. “Why I felt so attracted to Kara.”

  I stiffened. I’d thought he was going to say he’d remembered something lovely about me, a piece of the past he’d lost but had now found in my presence, but to hear another woman’s name fall from his lips... It was like he’d struck me.

  He continued, “You look so much like her, just a li’l slimmer. But you weren’t in the past. You were as curvy as Kara back then, and with similar long blonde hair. It’s pro’bly why I wuz so attracted to her. Cos of you.”

  I started mentally praying this wasn’t a brush off, a ‘You’ve made me realise how much I want her’ speech.

  He didn’t stop, totally oblivious to how upset he was making me. “You created my type. Before you, I liked Pacific Island girls, but ever since I had you, and lost you, I’ve been searching for women who look like you, just without realising it.” His face softened. “I may have lost my memory of our time together, but deep down, I must’ve retained enough to remember what you looked like. The blonde woman in my dreams... I’d been searching for her, had thought I’d found her in Kara, but I wuz wrong. I haven’t found her until now. Until you.”

  He stepped in closer, making me suck in a breath, my upset instantly vanishing, his words beyond anything I could’ve asked for.

  He ran his palm down the side of my face, then cupped my cheek, leaning forward to press his lips against mine. It wasn’t like the hot passionate kisses from earlier. It was gentle, tender almost, as though he was trying me out, tasting me for the first time, nothing at all like our first kiss nine years ago. That had been full of heat. While this one was a getting to know one another kiss, reacquainting ourselves, familiar, yet still new.

  I reached out, placing my hand against his cheek in return, holding him in place as I kissed him back just as tenderly as he was kissing me. Tears prickled my eyes, ones of joy, of hope that all my suffering would finally be over.

  His lips left mine. I opened my eyes, not remembering having closed them, just losing myself in the moment, like I used to lose myself in Dante’s embrace when we were younger.

  He nudged my cheek with his nose. “Are those tears of joy or sadness?”

  “Joy.” More tears fell, laying a path down my cheeks. “So much joy.”

  He smiled. “You are so sweet. I’ve never had sweet, only sour. Did we have this when we were together?”

  I nodded, remembering the times he’d spoken softly to me in bed, his words of love filled with a sweet wonder I would never forget. Like the time he’d traced my face with his fingertip, saying that no artist could create someone as beautiful as me.

  He brushed more tears away with his thumb. “I want more sweetness. I think I deserve it.”

  “You do,” I said. “Because you’re wonderful, Dante. So wonderful. So talented. So perfect.”

  Sadness filled his eyes. “I’m not perfect, far from it.”

  “All I see is perfection. And if anyone tells you differently, don’t listen.”

  He bit his lip, seemingly pondering what I’d said, then he shook his head. “It’s hard not to listen. Beth used to make me feel so stupid. She talked down to me all the time, while Kara...” He exhaled. “She also put me down, constantly berating me for not doin’ what she wanted. She made me feel small. I always bit back, but I also believed what she said.” He looked away, seemingly embarrassed, his expression wrenching my heart.

  I took hold of his cheeks and forced him to look at me. “You are not stupid. Those women are the stupid ones.”

  He didn’t reply, the upset on his face telling me he believed his exes, not me.

  “You. Are. Not. Stupid. Say it.”

  A small smile prickled at his lips. “You may not be a teacher anymore, but you haven’t lost your touch. It feels like you’re gonna gimme detention if I don’t do as I’m told.”

  I let go of his face. “You’re not stupid, but you are naughty as hell.”

  He started laughing, the infectious sound setting me off too. It felt good, like I was expelling all the heartache I’d kept in for the past nine years.

  His laughter grew softer, a wide smile lighting up his entire face. “I can live with naughty.”

  I smiled back. “Naughty is nice. Naughty is sexy. Naughty is you.”

  His smile disappeared, a serious expression taking over. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making me feel good, and for making me feel like I’m worth more than a fuck. Even though we just had sex, it wuz more than that to me. It wuz how sex should be. Not cos you want my body, but cos you want who I am.”

  I stepped in closer, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’ve always loved who you are.”

  “And I want to remember loving who you are. I look forward to gettin’ to know you again, Clara.”

  I beamed at him, knowing I couldn’t ask for more.

  23

  Dante

  I woke to a warm body pressed against mine. I opened my eyes and looked down at the pink-haired woman who’d changed my life within such a short space of time. She was snuggled up against my chest, fast asleep. One of her arms was wrapped around me tight, as though she was scared I’d take off while she slept. It made me smile. The simple gesture speaking volumes.

  She loved me.

  Just thinking that blew my mind. She fucking loved me. And it felt like the deep I’d die for you kind of love. Or more like, I’d go to jail for you, which she had.

  My gaze shifted to her back, to the shank scar marring her pale skin. I ran a finger over the bumpy, jagged scar, wondering who’d done it and why. Was it because of her crime or was it to do with something else? Either way, it hurt knowing she’d been stabbed because of me, the woman a sweetheart.

  She snorted softly in her sleep, making me smile, the sound similar to her strange snorting laugh. I brushed her hair back to get a better view of her face. It still got to me how much she resembled Kara—or Kara resembled her, since Clara was older. I must have fallen hard for Clara for her to have created my type. It was almost as though she’d hardwired my brain from a young age, steering me towards women who resembled her, only Beth being the exception to the rule. But Beth could never match up, not to Kara, and definitely not to Clara. Our relationship had been doomed from the start, unlike the one with Clara, because, even after all these years, and with all the obstacles thrown at us, we still ended up together. There had to be something to it, some soul-mate shit that drew us to one another. I grunted, disgusted with myself for even thinking that. Soul-mates, my arse. That shite only existed in Beth’s shitty romance novels, the type I used to relentlessly tease her about, where the dude had a dick the size of a baby’s arm, yet the virgin could still take it. I looked down at my dick, thinking no virgin could take mine unscathed.

  Clara stirred, mumbling something in her sleep. She let go of me and flopped onto her back, baring her tits, the sheet only covering her lower half. I ran a finger around one of her pink rosebud nipples, causing it to tighten and my cock to twitch. But instead of sucking the nipple into my mouth, I stayed focused on her face, thinking she could easily pass off as Kara’s older sister.

  Clara murmured something else in her sleep, again too garbled to understand. She kicked off the sheet, exposing herself below. My eyes ran down her flat stomach, settling on her pussy. Unable to help myself, I dipped a finger between the crease, playing with her opening. She stirred, murmuring more words, but stayed asleep, the woman hard to wake. I smiled, keen for my mouth to wake her up to a very good morning.

  I climbed between her legs, spreading them wider. She moaned my name but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  She moved her hips up in answer. Taking it as an invitation, I went to go down on her, but stopped as she lowered a hand to her pussy. My cock twitched
again at the sight of her masturbating, what I was seeing so fucking erotic I groaned myself.

  She lifted her other hand to her head, gripping onto her hair as she continued to play with herself. I watched open-mouthed, my eyes glued to what she was doing, so fucking turned on that I didn’t know what to do: whether to remove her hand and enter her, or to help her out, licking her below.

  “Dante,” she said again. “Please, more, please. I need you.”

  “Hell yes,” I said, no longer able to hold back. More than willing to give her what she needed, I removed her hand from her pussy and went down on her.

  She cried out, “Simon!”

  I instantly jerked my head back, shocked to hear another man’s name on her lips. But instead of looking back at me with guilt, she was thrashing about on the bed. Her eyes were still firmly shut, making me realise she was having a nightmare, not awake like I’d thought. Then no’s fell from her lips, the cries full of distress.

  “Clara,” I said, taking hold of her arms. “Wake up.”

  She thrashed about some more, seemingly lost in the nightmare.

  “Clara!” I repeated. “Wake up!”

  She jolted, my words finally getting through to her. Her eyes shot open, sleep and confusion clouding her grey irises. She stared up at me, her breathing ragged, her expression confused. She glanced around the room, then looked back at me. “A nightmare, it was just a nightmare.”

  I shook my head, what I saw more than a nightmare. “You yelled no to your ex. What did he do to you?”

  She didn’t reply, worrying me more.

  “Clara, why were you screaming no at that Simon prick? Did he hurt you? Is that why you jumped at my job without givin’ the rehab notice?”

  She opened her mouth, looking like she was struggling to say something, but couldn’t quite get it out, which only fuelled my concern.

  “What did he do to make you leave a job that you told me you didn’t wanna lose?” I asked.

  “I...” She grimaced. “It was just a dream.”

  I shook my head. “That wuz more than a dream. It looked like you were reliving a memory.”

  She pushed up onto her elbows. “It was a nightmare. Nothing in my dream really happened.”

  “Well, it obviously came from somewhere. You were terrified. What did your ex do to you to make you have a nightmare ’bout him?”

  She dropped her gaze. “It was a misunderstanding.”

  I took hold of her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. “Then, say it to my face.”

  She pushed my hand away. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  “Didn’t look or sound like it.”

  “Just drop it, I have.” She went to get out of bed.

  I grabbed her arm. “Clara—”

  She yanked free, yelling, “Don’t touch me!”

  I jolted at the venom in her voice, the shout coming out of nowhere.

  She swore and turned back to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She leaned forward to kiss me.

  I jerked my head back, upset that she wouldn’t tell me what he’d done. Just the thought of that creep doing shit to her, like people had done to me, made me want to hunt the bastard down and tear him to shreds.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she pleaded.

  “How am I lookin’ at you?” I asked, my upset growing. “Like Kara used to look at me when I screamed in my sleep?”

  She tensed.

  I fixed her with a firm stare. “What you just did...” I prodded my chest. “I did to Kara. I didn’t have many nightmares, but when I did, she tried to get me to talk, but I insisted that nuthin’ had happened to me, even though it had. And more than once, different names behind my nightmares.”

  Clara shook her head. “You can’t compare what was done to you to what was done to me. You were hurt so much more.”

  “So, you admit this prick hurt you?”

  “I’m not sure you could say he hurt me. I’m not sure I understand what even happened, whether it was a misunderstanding or...” her words trailed off.

  “Or what?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I talk in my sleep, and sometimes sleep walk. I’ve even had a conversation with someone while I was asleep, and they didn’t realise until a few sentences in.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re gettin’ at.”

  “I’m letting it go, so you should too.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m lettin’ go.”

  “Simon. He’s in my past. Leave it be.”

  I shook my head. “Not until you tell me what happened.” I indicated between us. “I want things to be open and honest. I’ve been told so many lies in the past, by my best mate, my dad, and most recently by one of my exes. We broke up cos of those lies, and she’s dying cos of those lies. I need the truth.”

  Clara squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then reopened them. “I had a dream yesterday morning, of you going down on me. I came, thinking of you, shouting out your name. Next thing, I hear another man shout. I opened my eyes, and instead of seeing you down there, I saw Simon. He claims I said yes, which I may have, but not to him, to you.”

  “You woke up to find him between your fuckin’ legs?”

  “Yes.”

  Fury shot through me, stone-cold fucking fury. I pushed off the bed and snatched up my jeans, wanting to fucking kill him.

  Clara jumped off the bed and grabbed my arm. “Don’t, Dante, it was a misunderstanding.”

  I jerked my arm free. “How the fuck can his face in your pussy while you were sleeping be a fuckin’ misunderstanding?!” I yelled, not having any of her excuses.

  “I told you I talk in my sleep. He thought my yeses for you were for him.”

  “He still had to start things for this to happen! That’s fuckin’ rape!”

  She tightened her grip on me. “It’s not, he didn’t penetrate me.”

  “He had his fuckin’ face planted in your fuckin’ pussy! I’ll fuckin’ kill him!”

  She started crying. “Don’t do this, please don’t do this,” she said, now trembling. “I’ve only just got you back.”

  I went still, the upset and fear in her voice throwing cold water over my anger, cooling down my temper rapidly. I cupped her face. “Nuthin’ is gonna happen to me.”

  She pushed my hands away. “Yes, it will!” she shouted, now the one angry. “I’ve just got you back, and you want to kill someone! They will take you from me! You can’t do that to me! You can’t! I spent over three years in jail, a further six years away from you, and you want to make it longer?” She bunched her hands into tight fists, her tears now falling freely. “I can’t go through that hell again, Dante. It drove me insane being away from you. I refuse to do it!”

  She turned away from me and brought a hand to her mouth, the sobs coming from her cutting me. I stepped in close and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sorry,” I said, giving her the comfort I should’ve given her straight away, not raged-filled fury. “I won’t fuck things up.”

  She turned in my embrace and stared up at me with hope. “You won’t?”

  I nodded, having no intention of fucking anything up. I was going to do shit right for once, get that fucker back for what he’d done to Clara. I just needed to go about it without getting caught.

  24

  Dante

  Jade nearly cried when I called to say I wasn’t coming in to the studio today. I was supposed to be working with L on my songs, but fuck! I couldn’t work after what Clara had told me. I needed to get things rolling on my plan before I ended up driving to the rehab centre and killing that bastard ex of hers. She was right, I needed to think before I acted, which was why I was heading for my bro’s place instead.

  I pulled up outside Ash’s new home, a cute-looking cottage with a perfectly trimmed bush fence. I parked my Mustang out front and pushed through the gate, heading for the front door. Everything looked pristine on the outside. The paintjob was perfect,
the lawn was cut to perfection, yada, yada, yada. The surrounding properties were also nice, middle-class houses, so different from the shithole Ash and his missus used to live in. I wondered what his white-bread neighbours thought of him, especially with the way he walked around like a gangster in his leathers and tats. Yeah, I was covered in tats too, but at least I smiled and charmed people. All Ash did was glare and bark at them, looking more like a serial killer than our dad did.

  I jumped up the front steps and went to knock on the door, but it opened before I could get a hand to it. Ash was standing on the other side, with a finger to his lips. “I just got Angelo to sleep,” he whispered, mentioning his ten-year-old son. “He’s home sick again, got another bug.”

  “’Kay,” I whispered back, although I didn’t see the point of it, since Angelo’s room was at the back of the house.

  I went to step inside, but Ash held out a hand, pointing at my boots.

  I rolled my eyes and kicked them off, muttering, “You’ve turned into a right house husband.”

  He glared at me, definitely not looking like one. Instead of his usual leathers, he was dressed in stained overalls, which were rolled down to his waist. He was also wearing a black singlet, Ash looking ready to head out to his labouring job.

  “I’m not married, so shut your trap and get in,” he grunted, as pleasant as ever.

  I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. I walked over to the couch and slumped down onto it, eyeing up his paintings and drawings. The lounge walls were covered with them, my bro a talented motherfucker, way more than me. Yeah, I could sing and write songs, but he could paint like a master, play more instruments than me, as well as sing just as good, which was why Jade had let me go see Ash instead of turning up to work. I’d bullshitted him, saying I wanted to talk my bro into doing some backup tracks. Not only did it stop Jade’s anger-filled rant about my unprofessionalism, but it had gotten him excited, the opportunistic twat thinking he could get Ash to sign a contract too. Little did he know that Ash had no interest in becoming famous, my bro a very private person.