Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Read online

  “Fuck, baby. You’re forgiven.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  In order for a couple to achieve harmony when driven by the Manipura chakra, they need to work very hard on themselves to overcome their high expectations of the future. Both parties must communicate and commit to one another’s goals and ambitions evenly to find mutual success in life and love.

  ATLAS

  Mila lay spent on my chest, her breathing labored pants against my skin, warming my nipple. We’d just had the best makeup sex…well, the first makeup sex I’d ever had.

  I nudged her arm. “Hey, have you ever had makeup sex?” I asked, twirling my fingers through her hair.

  She shook her head and then licked my nipple. It hardened instantly. I groaned in reply. Damn wildcat was going to make me hard again, even after the wild romp where I’d given her my all. Rest was needed, badly.

  “No, never been in a relationship long enough to fight.”

  That comment had me cracking up. My chest rumbled as I held her close and laughed into her hair. “We’ve been fighting since day one.”

  She tilted her head. “Then maybe all we’ve ever had is makeup sex.”

  I played with her hair and then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Then what was it that we just had?”

  Mila worried her bottom lip. “Normal relationship sex?” She grinned.

  “If that was normal, we are so going to last forever, wildcat.”

  She snickered and kissed my chest. “I really am sorry about earlier. What I did…”

  “You mean what you were trying to do?”

  “Yeah, that. I was being foolish. But you’re right in the end. I don’t want to paint what they want me to paint or whatever everyone else is painting. I want to paint what’s in my head and you, curly, are definitely in my head.” She straddled my hips more fully and leaned up enough to grace me with a long, tongue-tangling, wet kiss.

  I moaned and curled a hand around the back of her head, delving my tongue deep, enjoying her humming at the back of her throat when I sucked on her tongue. “I told you, I forgive you.”

  She picked up the key around my neck and moved it back and forth, the beads clacking with every move, kind of like unzipping a pair of pants. “Yeah, but it wasn’t cool. I love being with you. This relationship, it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. I can’t believe that meeting today had me so fucked up I almost ruined it.”

  I ran my hands up and down her thighs. “You couldn’t ruin it. Remember, you dazzle me, baby.”

  She grinned. “Oh, do I? I thought before it was love.”

  Instead of saying what I knew she wanted to hear, I hedged around it. “That too,” I offered.

  She chuckled but didn’t push me, nor did she say it back. I didn’t request that of her, either. The last thing I’d want was for someone to say they loved me just because I’d said it first. I wanted her to say those words to me when she couldn’t not say them. I’d not been with a woman long enough to hear those words said to me. I planned on being fully in the moment when it occurred, but I definitely wouldn’t urge her to say it when she didn’t feel it. I had a sneaking suspicion she did feel it, just as deeply as I did, but was too afraid to go there. That was fine. We had lots of time to solidify what we had with one another.

  While my mind wandered off, I came to, realizing Mila’s concentration wasn’t on me. She kept flipping the key that I’d worn for two decades, over and back, lifting it to the light. She squinted and got really close to the metal surface.

  “I know what this opens,” she remarked nonchalantly as if she’d just said it was raining outside while looking out the window.

  Five words. Five words that had the power to knock me on my ass. I’d been wearing this key for twenty years, and I had absolutely no idea what it opened, nor had I ever found the lock that it went to.

  I tightened my grip on her thighs. Mila squinted and looked at me.

  She set the key over my heart and then gripped my hands where they dug into her cinnamon-colored flesh. “Let go.” She petted my fingers until I loosened my hold. The room kept going from color to black around the edges. My heart pounded so hard and so loud within my chest, it obliterated all other sound. Before I knew it, I was gasping for air.

  Mila hopped off me and ran to the bathroom where she grabbed a glass of water.

  “Here, Atlas, drink this.” She ran her hands through my hair as I pushed up, leaned against the headboard, and drank the water. “Now breathe in for five beats, good…now slowly out for five.” She breathed with me as the tightness I felt in my chest started to dissipate. I focused on her eyes and her chest moving in my periphery. She’d tossed on my T-shirt when she went to get the water, and just in my tee I wanted to throw her down and have her again. At least when my heart wasn’t about to pop out of my chest.

  “You okay?” she asked, and I nodded, still caught in the clutches of my anxiety.

  She nodded and then got up. I grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her from moving. “Don’t leave me,” I muttered, not recognizing my own frightened voice.

  Mila ran another hand through my hair and then cupped my cheek. “I’m not. I wouldn’t. I’m just going to get something in that box on my dresser, okay?”

  I glanced at the jewelry box she pointed at and nodded.

  She rushed across the room, her bare ass peeking through the bottom of the shirt when she bent over to rummage through the jewelry box. “Ah-ha! Got it.”

  Now at the end of the bed, she crawled up it and straddled my hips. “This okay?” She settled her bare ass on my thighs.

  I locked my arm around her waist and pressed her even closer, rubbing my hardening shaft against her moist center. “Very okay. Sorry about that. I don’t know what happened. It’s just that you mentioned the key, and you don’t know what it means.”

  “Tell me then.”

  I inhaled slowly and pushed her curls away from her pretty face. “It’s the last thing my dad gave me. He told me that it would change my life. Only he was so far gone on drugs and his leaving that he neglected to tell his eight-year-old son what it opened. I figured I’d either find out one day or not, but honestly, I hadn’t thought about finding out what it opened in a long time. Then you said what you did… Uh, did you mean it?”

  She smiled and looped her hands around my neck. “Yeah. I know what it opens. It just dawned on me now when I was looking at it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a key just like it.” She opened her palm, and in it was a similarly shaped key, the same color, with the same two letters but three different numbers etched into its side.

  I held the key and looked at it as if it were not a simple key, but the answer to all that ailed the world. “What does it open?”

  She smiled huge and looked me right in the eye. “A safe-deposit box, baby!”

  A safe-deposit box. I jerked my head back and bumped against the headboard. What the hell?

  “What the heck was my father doing with a key to a safe-deposit box, and how am I going to find out what bank and what box?”

  Again, my girl grinned, only this time it came with a little bounce in her booty. She was getting excited, and along with her, my cock took notice every time she bumped her pussy against it. I held her thighs in lockdown. “Wildcat. Seriously. I want to know what you have to say, but can you do it while not bouncing on my dick, unless you’re properly going to bounce on my dick?”

  She laughed and lifted the key that was around my neck, putting the letters directly in front of my face. “See that SF and the three digits?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re the same as mine.”

  “Okay, so?”

  “That means the SF means San Francisco and more specifically, if it’s the same as mine, it’s San Francisco International Bank.”

  “And the three digits?”

  “The box number, silly!” She once again rubbed all over my cock, still not
being able to contain her excitement. “Let’s go open it tomorrow!” she squealed in straight-up glee.

  I didn’t know how to respond. Of course, I wanted to know what was in the box, if this key did, in fact, open a box, but I wasn’t sure I was ready. Instead of telling her all the thoughts running through my head, I lifted her up and planted her on her back with me hovering between her thighs. “We’ll see, hotness. We’ll see. For now…I fuck you.”

  She made a point of pursing her lips in thought but then breaking into a gaggle of giggles when she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Okay!” she said and wrapped her arms and legs around me, both of us getting lost in the other’s body once more.

  Only I still had the key on my mind, never too far away. Tomorrow I’d know what it meant. Twenty years of waiting and I’d finally know what my father left me that would change my life.

  MILA

  “I’ll have to verify your identification. May I have your ID and social security number?” the banker in a bad suit requested of Atlas as we sat in front of a boring oak desk in a really old bank.

  Atlas handed over his social security card and his California driver’s license. The bank manager left us and entered a room off to the side, presumably verifying his information.

  I rubbed my hand down Atlas’s thigh. “You okay, curly?” I was trying to lighten the heavy nature of what could possibly be in a safe-deposit box that his father left him over twenty years ago.

  He looked at me, his one blue eye looking icy, and the one brown seeming dark. “No, I’m not.” He lifted my hand and kissed the back. “But I will be.”

  I gave him a small, sad smile. I knew this had to be killing him softly. His dad had meant a lot to him, and when he’d been abandoned, Atlas had lost faith in all people. Last night, after several rounds of lovemaking, we shared in the dark. He spoke about his dad, how much it had hurt when he left, how he and his mom had struggled to pay the bills. They’d even had to move in with his mom’s sister for years until he was old enough to work himself and contribute to the homestead monetarily. That was when he and his mom got a little apartment. Now, his mom had her own place, mostly because Atlas still helped chip in for her rent. I loved him more for that.

  Yes, I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with Atlas Powers. The annoying, overconfident, arrogant, combative jokester who was also an intense lover made me laugh constantly, appreciated my art, was a talented musician, and more than that…he loved me back. No man besides my dad had ever loved me.

  Men had only been in my life to scratch a sexual itch, not participate in anything of value. Now though, I couldn’t image not having Atlas in my day-to-day life. He had so easily interwoven himself into the very threads that were the fabric of my existence. Moe and Lily adored him and he them. The instructors and owners of the studio all knew we were an item and, believe it or not, thought we were cute. Cute. I was in a relationship that people thought was cute. Atlas’s friends seemed to dig me, and he’d even gotten on a level with my buddy Nick.

  The bank manager brought back something for him to sign, confirming that he was the Atlas Powers who was the only other individual approved to access this box. “There you go. I can take you in now.”

  I stayed seated as the two men stood up.

  Atlas held out his hand. “Will you go with me?” His eyes held such hope I’d have never let him down. If he needed me, I was going to be there.

  I stood up fast and grabbed his hand. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  “I need you,” he admitted, his voice filled with an unshed emotion.

  Sometimes I wished men weren’t men. A woman in this situation could cry and carry on and no one would care. Hell, they wouldn’t even pay attention. A man, though, no, he had to be tough. Had to “man up” for fear that he’d be considered weak for showing any real emotion. Except, Atlas showed real emotion all the time, though I would admit, he mostly only did it with me and within the confines of one of our bedrooms. There he could let himself be free…with me.

  That thought had my protective mama bear side popping to the surface. The only other time I’d ever felt like I could take down a car racing at me at fifty miles an hour was when Moe had given birth to Lily, and Kyle had left her hanging to raise what was supposed to be their daughter, alone.

  While we walked, Atlas held my hand in a viselike grip. I rubbed his arm and matched my steps with his as best I could, making sure he’d feel me close at all times.

  We got to the back room where all the boxes were held.

  “Number five seventeen.” The banker pointed to a shoebox-sized black square along the wall and unlocked the bank’s lock, leaving Atlas to use his key to finish off the task. “Take as much time as you need,” he said, attempting to leave.

  “Wait!” Atlas stopped the guy with a hand to his elbow. “I have a question for you.”

  “Certainly.” He turned around and clasped his hands in front of him.

  Atlas licked his lips and frowned. “If this box has been here for over twenty years, that means someone had to be paying the fee on it, right?”

  “You would be correct.”

  “Do you know how and when it was paid?” Atlas asked.

  “I can look that up for you, and when you leave, I should have that information.”

  Atlas nodded. “Thank you, yes. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course, sir.” The banker turned and left.

  The room was cool, the air-conditioning pumping in the confined space. There were a couple of bright drop lights hanging from the ceiling directly over a set of high tables that ran down the center of the rectangular space. The walls were painted a dark navy, so the black shiny boxes looked ominous and foreboding, like liquid oil floating on the surface of the ocean.

  Atlas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then walked over to box 517. He pushed the key in, turned the lock, and pulled. The sleek box pulled out with the key as if it was on rollers. He hefted the bottom with his other hand until the box was clear. In total, the thing was around fifteen inches in length, ten inches in width, and another four or five inches tall.

  He set the box down on the table and then placed his hands on either side of it. His shoulders curved forward as if he was holding a heavy burden on his back.

  “Do you want me to leave, give you some privacy?” I asked, not wanting to intrude.

  He shook his head, his hair falling into his face. After a couple of moments spent listening to the air-conditioning and our ragged breaths, Atlas lifted a hand and popped the top up on the box. It had a hinge at the back, so the lid fell all the way at the hinge and slammed to the table.

  I gasped at the sight of the first thing I saw. Neat stacks. Money. Lots of it. By my count, there were ten total stacks, and they looked to be varying amounts.

  “What the fuck?” Atlas growled, lifting one of the stacks that was all one hundred dollar bills. “There has to be fifty thousand dollars in this stack alone. Where the hell did my old man get this money?”

  Now that was a good question. My bet would be drugs since Atlas had said he liked to partake.

  Atlas’s hands turned into fists as he stared at the cash. “Do you think he robbed something?”

  I shrugged. “Honey, I don’t know. This is so far out of my wheelhouse I’m swinging at foul balls left and right.”

  He sighed and lifted each stack, placing them outside of the box on the table. As he removed one and then two, it became clear there were several documents under the money. A five-by-seven-sized envelope sat on the top of the other full-sized pages.

  “Atlas” was scrawled on top.

  I pointed to the card. “Read that first. Might explain a bit more. I’ll…uh…I’ll count the money.”

  He smiled and chuckled a bit under his breath. He didn’t want to laugh, but at least I’d made him momentarily come back to himself.

  Atlas fingered the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. I could tell from the other side of the
table, where I’d finished pulling out the stacks of cash, that both sides of the page he held had writing on them. Instead of attempting to read the bits that I could see, I set about counting the money.

  Stack after stack I counted and then made notes of the amounts on my phone. When I’d finished, Atlas had already moved on to the other documents and was thumbing through them.

  “So?” I said noncommittally, uncertain whether or not to intrude.

  “I can’t talk about it yet.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “How much cash is there?”

  I swallowed and focused on my phone. “Let me add it up.”

  When I was done, I stared at the number. “Two hundred and sixty-five thousand.”

  Atlas braced himself on the table. “Fuck.” He scowled.

  The scowl was surprising. I mean, if I’d just come into two hundred and sixty-five big ones, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be scowling. Tossing it in the air and dancing in it like it was raindrops, sure, but definitely not scowling.

  He huffed. “Fucker couldn’t stay with mom and me. Had to chase his art, leave us hanging, poor and struggling. All the while, he had this money set aside for me. For me,” he growled.

  I came around the table and put my hand on his back, rubbing it up and down. “And you’re mad, because…”

  “He left us with nothing, Mila. Mom made very little money. She cleaned the houses of rich people while her husband gallivanted day and night with his artsy friends, did drugs, and sometimes helped out. I remember back when he was still with us he’d randomly bring home a thousand bucks. Those nights we’d eat good, and Mom and Dad would dance in the kitchen like young lovers. Mom would be so happy because that money would catch up the bills, and he’d swear to bring more so that they weren’t getting behind every month. Then we’d go months with nothing again, and whammo, more cash would appear. Until he left and didn’t come back.”

  I sighed and snuggled under his arm and plastered myself to his side. “Was he selling drugs?”