Jasper Vale (The Edens)

Eloise’s towel lay puddled on the kitchen floor as she padded for the stairs, every inch of her naked, glorious body on display.

That woman carried an invisible leash.

Where she went, I willingly followed.

Fucking hell, I’d missed her.

So much I stopped moving, needing a moment to soak her in. The smooth skin. Those slender curves. Her chocolate hair and her soft lips. The mouth I loved to kiss.

She noticed I wasn’t following and glanced over her shoulder. Those dazzling blue eyes were as stormy as the weather. Frustration. Lust. Defeat.

Our reality was inevitable. It hung over our heads like the current thunderstorm.

Eloise stretched out a hand.

I took it.

We’d ignore that reality for another night.

The moment we reached the loft, she lay on the bed, her wet hair splaying across the pillows. Her gaze stayed locked on me as I undressed, tossing my clothes into a pile beside my discarded shoes.

Then I climbed into the bed, settling on top of her, and without any fooling around, I slid inside her wet heat. And for the first time in days, I could breathe.

She hummed, that sound of ecstasy music to my ears. Her legs wrapped around me, holding tight as I encircled her with my arms, burying my face in the crook of her neck to draw in the vanilla and spice and earth.

Eloise.

She’d ruined me. Somewhere along the way, she’d ruined me for any other woman.

Maybe that should have bothered me.

We moved in tandem, like practiced lovers who’d had years, not months, to learn each other’s weaknesses. Our eyes stayed locked, our limbs entwined.

This wasn’t fucking, not tonight. It was too intimate to be considered fucking. But I wouldn’t put the other label on it, not even for myself. Instead I drowned in Eloise, and when she shattered, I followed her into the oblivion.

Neither of us shifted until our hearts had stopped pounding, our breaths no longer ragged. Then I rolled to my back, taking her with me, positioning her on my chest, knowing she’d want to stay close.

Beyond the balcony door, the thunder boomed, followed seconds later by the flash of lightning. Rain prattled on the tin roof.

Eloise’s finger traced lazy circles on my skin, first on my shoulder, then drifting to my pec before she flicked my nipple and her touch trailed up my throat.

It wasn’t foreplay. This was just her. She touched, constantly. Aimlessly.

I’d missed this touch, so much so that I’d changed my plans in Vegas, cramming what I’d planned to do in days into hours. After my interview, I’d stopped by my old gym to see a few friends. Then I’d gone to my house, packing the few things I’d brought along so that yesterday morning, when I woke at dawn to hit the road, my stuff would be ready.

Pulling into the A-frame last night, finding Eloise’s car missing and a dark house, had been a punch to the face.

Fifteen hours on the road, and I’d been so desperate to see her. To climb in bed beside her and finally get some sleep. Apparently, I’d gotten used to the cuddling. Without her, I hadn’t been able to sleep.

Last night had been restless too. I’d stayed awake most of the night, waiting for her to get home, wondering if she was working at the hotel. Worrying that something had happened to her.

I’d finally had enough of the worry that I’d gotten up, put on some sweats and driven into town. But she hadn’t been at the hotel’s front desk. Through the gleaming windows, I’d spotted the night clerk reading a book.

Rationally, I’d known she was probably with her family. Maybe at the ranch with her parents. But that hadn’t stopped me from driving by the two bars on Main, searching out her car. I’d swung by Willie’s too before finally returning home.

Then I’d waited. And waited. And fucking waited.

All goddamn day to see my wife.

Yeah, I should have texted her. Or called. Except that would have been too real. Too revealing.

So I’d gotten pissed. Not even a few hours with Foster at the gym had helped me relax.

Then she’d come home and well . . . I’d missed her.

I wasn’t supposed to miss her.

Fuck, but I was tired. Tired of holding up my hand, keeping her at a distance. Tired of pretending that sex between us was our only connection.

“El.”

“Jas.” She propped her chin on the hand over my chest while the other kept drawing those circles. Across my jaw, then over my cheekbone to my eyes. She skimmed my lashes, then flitted over the line of my nose before tracing my lips.

The defeat and frustration were gone from her gaze. Another flash of lightning brightened the room, making those blue irises flare.

She’d asked me to talk to her. To try.

I loved that she knew it wasn’t easy for me. And for that, I’d try.

“My ex-wife. Her name is Samantha.” This was either the best or worst place to start explaining the disaster that was my family and first marriage. “My parents are close friends with hers, so I’ve known her since we were kids. And I loved her for most of that time too.”

Eloise stiffened. The tracing stopped.

So I clasped her hand, drawing the circles for her until she took over again.

“I grew up in Potomac, Maryland. My mother is in politics. She’s an advisor to some powerful officials. And she works on campaigns. During election years, Mom was practically a ghost. The one year when the senator she was advising lost, well . . . let’s just say she stayed in her wing of the house, and I stayed in mine.”

“Your wing?” Eloise’s eyes widened.

“My father is in political fundraising, but he comes from money.” Extreme money. That money had paid for their lives, though both had well-paying jobs. “Because money was never the issue, they work because they love to work.” And the notoriety. They craved the spotlight.

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.”

“Unless you’re their son. And you were born out of obligation, not love.”

The tracing stopped again, but this time, I didn’t make her start again. “What do you mean, obligation?”

I shrugged. “Rich, powerful families have heirs. Heaven forbid all their money go to someone who might actually need it.”

Instead, their fortunes were spent on properties across the globe. On homes like my childhood mansion, which was thirty times the size of what three people might need. I hadn’t been back to Potomac in years. If that red-brick monstrosity with its sprawling green lawns and sweeping gardens ever became mine, I’d gladly sell it and donate the proceeds to charity.

“It’s not that my parents were cruel,” I told Eloise. “I can’t remember a time when I was reprimanded by my mother or father. They didn’t abuse me. They didn’t resent me. They were just . . . disinterested.” Wholly and utterly disinterested.

“How could they be disinterested? You’re their child.”

“They just were.” I understood the confusion on her face. For a woman like Eloise, who had a family like hers, it was hard for her to comprehend. “You know how at that dinner at the ranch, there was barely a second of space in the conversation?”

“Yeah.”

“Imagine the exact opposite. That was my childhood.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

“Mom and Dad are both eloquent people. Put them at a gala or in front of a journalist, you’ll see two well-spoken people who will charm anyone in minutes. You wouldn’t think that if you put them at a table with their only son, that would be different. But it’s like they have on and off switches.”

“And for you, it’s off.”

“Yeah.” The pain in her face, the sympathy, made my heart ache. “Don’t be sad, angel. I had every luxury in the world as a kid.” Nannies to dote on me. Tutors to ensure I was at the top of my class. Chefs to make me whatever food I desired.

“Luxury is not a replacement for love, Jasper.”

“No, it isn’t.” Money wasn’t affection. “But until Samantha moved to Maryland, I didn’t know any better.”

Eloise shifted, like hearing Samantha’s name made her uncomfortable. I held her to me, needing to feel her skin against my own after too many days away.

“Samantha’s father is also in politics,” I said. “They moved from New York City to Potomac when I was ten. Dad and John met through work and became friends. Mom and Ashley hit it off too, and from then on out, if there was an activity or function, our families did it together. I preferred it that way. When John and Ashley were around, my parents were flipped on. And I had Samantha. She was my first everything. Crush. Kiss. We lost our virginity to each other at fourteen.”

Eloise dropped her gaze, staring blankly over my shoulder to the pillow.

“What?” I asked.

“Just . . . jealous.”

Fuck, but I loved that she could lay it out there. That she didn’t hide it from me.

If our positions were reversed, I wasn’t sure I could hear about her past lovers. Hell, the day at the ranch when she’d told me about the guys she’d brought home had been hard enough.

“Are her parents like yours?” she asked. “Disinterested?”

“Yes and no,” I said. “Ashley is a surgeon and constantly at the hospital. John works even more than my dad. I don’t doubt that they love Sam. But she was always second priority. We had that in common. We gave the attention we each craved to one another.”

We’d filled that void. The moment our families would get together, Sam and I would disappear, not a parent concerned with what we were doing. Even as teens, either our parents hadn’t known or they hadn’t cared when we’d vanish to a closed bedroom and fuck for hours.

Sam was the first person I’d ever loved. The first and only person who ever heard me say I love you. I’d given that woman all I’d had. And it still hadn’t been enough.

“We went to the same private high school in Maryland,” I said.

Sam and I had spent our teenage years as bored, rich kids. With bored, rich kids. Three of my classmates had graduated with substance abuse problems. There weren’t many drugs Sam and I hadn’t sampled. Drinking had been a casual pastime up until my senior year, when I’d had someone pull my head out of my ass.

“Sam wanted to go to Cornell because that’s where her parents met. I wanted Georgetown. Mostly because I wanted to stay in DC.”

“Why?” Eloise asked. “You didn’t want to get away from your parents?”

“I did. But my senior year in high school, I started taking karate at a local dojo. It was like I’d found a passion, you know? It was the right place for me. I got attached to my sensei and wanted to earn my black belt. Moving to New York meant a different teacher, and I wasn’t about to change, start over. So Sam left, and I stayed.”

“Did you get your black belt?”

“Yeah. My sophomore year at Georgetown. I got my second degree about two years after that. Right before my sensei passed away. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” Eloise pressed a kiss to my heart.

“Me too.” I threaded my fingers through her hair, most of the strands nearly dry now. “His name was Dan. He changed my life.”

He’d taken me—an arrogant, spoiled brat—under his wing. He’d taught me humility. Discipline. Grace. Respect. He’d been the father I’d never had.

“He was a widower. No kids. So when he was going through chemo, I went with him a lot. Sat with him at the hospital while they pumped him full of drugs.” Toward the end, the doctors had been honest with us both. It had been terminal. But he’d gone to treatment anyway, never giving up hope for a miracle.

I missed Dan every single day. Would he be proud of the man I’d become? I wished he were here so I could ask him myself. I wished he could meet Eloise because he’d adore her. And he’d kick my ass for getting myself tangled in a fake marriage. He’d call me a turd.

I missed being called a turd.

“One day at the hospital, toward the end, I asked him why he picked me,” I said. “Why he gave me so much time and energy. What was so special about me. Why he treated me differently than his other students.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t answer.” The lump in my throat began to choke me. “He said that if I couldn’t look in the mirror and know the answer to that question, he hadn’t done a good enough job. Broke my fucking heart. So I went home that night and stared at the mirror for an hour. Still not sure what he saw.”

“Jasper.” Eloise’s chin began to quiver.

“Don’t cry, angel.”

She sniffled, her eyes flooding. “I can cry if I want.”

“Don’t cry for me. Please.” It only made this harder.

“Okay,” she whispered, blinking away the tears.

This was the most I’d spoken of my past in, well . . . ever. Not even Foster knew this much about my family. But Eloise had said she wanted to know me better than anyone. There wasn’t much I could give her, but I could give her this. And before we went to Sam’s wedding, she deserved the truth.

“Dan died a week after I graduated from Georgetown,” I said. “I was a wreck.”

My exams had been finished, thankfully. I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on a test. But I’d been totally lost without him. He’d become this anchor. This voice of reason. And suddenly, I was adrift, left alone with only the voices in my head.

And Sam’s.

“Sam and I stayed together through college. Did the long-distance thing. Saw each other when we could, but we were both busy. If I wasn’t at school, I was at the dojo. When Dan pulled back, after he got sick, I stepped up to help teach. And I’d wanted to broaden my martial arts skills, so I’d started doing some Muay Thai too.”

There’d been too many emotions stirring at the time. With school. With Dan. The only way I’d known how to deal with them was by shoving them aside. And it had always been easier to shut down emotionally if I was channeled wholly into something physical.

In high school, when my parents had overlooked me, I’d ignored that pain and, instead, gotten lost in sex with Sam. Then I’d started at the dojo, and martial arts training had become my joy in those days.

“Sam was in a sorority,” I said. “They always had functions, plus she had school demands. We’d talk every day, but it was shallow. We were both changing. Moving in different directions. Not that I realized it at the time.”

Hindsight was a bitch.

The red flags had been endless, but I’d overlooked each and every one.

“Did she know Dan?” Eloise asked.

“A little.” And though he’d never admitted it, he hadn’t liked her. Looking back, I could see that now too. Maybe if he’d told me, I wouldn’t have married her.

“She was there when I got the call that he’d died. She’d graduated too and had moved back to live with me. We got through the funeral, and she knew I was falling apart. She didn’t leave my side, just stayed close because I needed her close. I think it scared her, seeing me fall apart. So she planned a trip to get my mind off it.”

“To where?” Eloise asked.

I swallowed hard, knowing what was coming would hurt her. But it was truth time. “Vegas.”

She sat up, her body still draped across mine but her chin lifted, her shoulders stiffening.

Yep. This was going to fucking suck.

“It was just supposed to be for fun. A chance for me to clear my head. We went out that first night. Partied at a club. An hour later, we were at a chapel to get married.”

It had been Sam’s idea. If Dan hadn’t died, would I have taken her up on it? I’d asked myself that countless times. But that night, I’d just wanted to feel . . . loved.

“You got married in Vegas,” Eloise said.

I nodded.

“Which chapel?”

Fuck. “The Clover Chapel.”

“Our chapel.” Eloise sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Horror, betrayal, was written across her expression. “That’s how you knew where it was.”

“It was an asshole move, taking you there. I’m sorry. But when you were talking about that ugly horse drawing, how you covered it up with something beautiful, I wanted that. I wanted a new picture. I wanted to erase Sam’s ugly. And you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

Her jaw flexed, her nostrils flaring like they normally did when she was pissed. Like she’d done downstairs before marching out into the storm. “You’d seen me before that night.”

“Yeah.” I shifted, sitting up so I could lock my gaze with hers. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Which guarantees I won’t like what you’re about to say.” She rolled her eyes. “This ought to be great.”

Damn, but I loved that eye roll. That sass.

“I didn’t see you before that night.” I leaned in, dropping my forehead to hers. “I was focused on Foster. On his fight. On shifting my life to Montana, even temporarily. I wasn’t in a frame of mind to see anyone.”

Eloise sighed, and with that exhale, some of her irritation seemed to fade.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“Yup. Like when we were standing at. The. Altar.” She poked my chest, accentuating every word. “That would have been a great time to mention you’d been there before.”

“I’m sorry.” I captured her hand, squeezing so she couldn’t fold in that poking finger. Then I brought it to my lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry, Eloise.”

Another sigh. And from the softness in her pretty blue eyes, I was forgiven. “What happened then?”

I leaned back, dropping my gaze to the bed, still keeping her hand in mine. “Sam and I went home. Our parents were pissed, to say the least. Not that they hadn’t expected us to get married, they’d just missed the opportunity to host a party for their friends. To show off their perfect match.”

“What do you mean, their perfect match?”

“They took credit for us being together. Like it was something they’d planned from the beginning.” I’d always thought that was ridiculous. How my parents could give so little of a shit about me but, when it came to my marriage to Sam, be so angry to be excluded.

“Things with Samantha were . . . okay.” The changes I’d ignored had started to come to light. But I’d just kept on ignoring them. “I did my thing. She did hers. She’d gotten a job, but I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I kept working at the dojo and started training on the side. That’s how I got into it. Spent four years at Georgetown and haven’t once used my degree.”

“What did you get your degree in?”

“Communications.”

“Communications? You’re kidding.” Eloise snorted. “This is the most I’ve ever heard you speak. Ever. I think you need to call Georgetown and ask for a refund. Or maybe Georgetown is where you learned how to communicate with grunts and nods? Because if that’s the case, then don’t worry, babe. You use your degree every single day.”

I laughed. Loud. I tipped my head to the ceiling and let it roar. I let it free. I laughed like I hadn’t done in years, until all that was left was a smile.

Eloise had a smug grin on her face when I faced her. She knew she’d earned that laugh. She knew, without needing to ask, that it was rare.

“Anyway . . .” I pinched her rib, making her squeal and swat at my hand. “About six months later, I came home from the gym to find Sam had invited a couple over. They were people she’d met through a mutual friend.”

A friend I’d despised. Another red flag ignored.

“I thought she’d planned a double date. So I took a quick shower. Joined them to eat. They were nice. It was just a normal dinner. Until Sam pulled me aside later and asked if I liked the woman.”

“Wait. What?” Eloise sat ramrod straight. “Why would she ask you that?”

“Because she wanted to fuck the man and hoped I’d fuck the wife in the guest bedroom. That’s the night she informed me we were going to have an open marriage.”