Inhale, Exhale

by Matthews, C. L.

  Instead of arguing, I head over to my house, the one that makes my heart hurt as much as it heals.

  Opening the front door, I’m met with those beautiful blue eyes. Like Toby’s, they’re wide and awed.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he greets on a long exhale.

  His warm voice washes over me. The simple compliment has my legs weak. His voice is deep and husky and all I would love to hear forever.

  He eyes me with interest, a predatory one that hints at where his mind is at.

  My mind is there, too. Whether hormones, everything I’ve gone through, or the simple fact that Jase looks like a fucking snack, I’m needy.

  Squeezing my thighs together, I stare at him. He notices the movement, and his gaze ignites, like pouring gasoline over a flicker of an ember. He makes his way over to me, his hand going to the nape of my neck, stroking up and down. My hair is at his mercy when he slips his fingers through it and tugs, exposing my throat to him.

  “You’re so fucking sexy, Peaches, so fucking mine.”

  I moan as his mouth trails the pulse point at my throat and groan when he bites there. He kisses until I’m mad. He touches until I’m delirious, and he grinds until we’re both panting.

  He lifts me with his palms, and I wrap my legs around him. We don’t even make it to the bed before he has me pressed against a hard surface, trapping my small frame between him and the solid coolness of our wall.

  He takes my mouth with his, biting when I don’t give immediate access. I tease, licking his bottom lip but then deny him entrance again. Growling, he bites my throat then kisses it better. His nose trails the thick vein, inhaling me with each breath.

  “Peaches. Always smelling like goddamn peaches. So delicious.” He kisses my ear, nibbling the lobe before his lips are back on mine. This time, I give him what he wants. This time, it’s a war of tongues, and I’ll be the conqueror.

  He drags us to our bed, the one I haven’t seen or slept in since we fucked last. It’s clean, made, and the room is almost perfect, like nothing ever happened. It takes everything in me not to cry at the sight. He did this for us. He fixed everything.

  After a moment, he grips my chin, forcing my focus on him and only him. It’s not hard. He’s always on my mind, imprinted on my heart, forever stamped to my soul.

  Laying me down, he hovers above me, kissing me over and over until I’m a whimpering mess. He takes his time with each area of my body, focusing on my shoulders, ankles, and inner thighs. His hand trails up my body as his mouth teases me restlessly.

  “This is wrong, Jase,” I moan while he grips my left breast and kneads the right simultaneously.

  We weren’t supposed to do this. It’s not the best choice, not when everything is up in the air.

  He glares at me, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. He mesmerizes me, challenges me, and he’s truly the only man for me. Even after everything, I know this, but it won’t hurt to make him grovel or continuously try to make it up to me.

  This thing between me and Toby will never go anywhere, not after I’ve already cut it off, but hurting Jase like he hurt me only feels fair. No matter how big of a bitch that makes me, he deserves the pain. And me staying with Millie while Tobe is there makes Jase hurt, too.

  “What?” he mocks. “The fact that you’re trying something absolutely unacceptable with my brother or the fact that you want me to fuck you, to own you once again, and show you where you’re meant to be? Huh, Peaches?”

  He taunts me, licking his bottom lip before lowering his mouth to my throat and nipping there. His teeth dig into my sensitive flesh, and in return, my back curves off the bed into his chest. He smells like sweat and Jase, and when he comes back to nip me again, I lick a long trail up his throat, tasting him.

  “Now, tell me, Peaches. Tell me how wrong it is to want to fuck my wife?”

  “I-I... W-We...” I’m stuttering breathily, staring into his lust-filled eyes. “We’re separated, Jase.”

  It’s all I can think to say. What do I say? No, we shouldn’t do this. I fucked your brother and might be pregnant with his baby. No, because that wouldn’t be entirely true. This thing between me and Tobe is unexplainable. He will never be Jase—the man I love, the one I’ve made a family with, the man who owns every part of me and has ever since that party. The baby might not be Tobe’s, and it might be Jase’s, and everything is a fucking mess.

  Jase owns me.

  Every piece of myself is his.

  The one who calls me Peaches.

  The one who shredded my fucking heart and now wants to take it again without ransom, without a promise of keeping it safe.

  This is so fucked up.

  Why does he still want me?

  “The only separating happening here is your legs before they undoubtedly cross behind my back.” He spreads my thighs apart, bringing his palm to my hip. “And believe me, baby, when I’m fucking you, I’ll be the only man on your mind and the only name on your tongue. And when my brother’s dick won’t bring you the pleasure mine will, you’ll come back to me.”

  Fuck. He’s been crass since he admitted to his affair. I think I love it. No, I know I do. It’s what I’ve missed all these years. He used to be this way when we first started dating, but then he got into that routine like me, and we forgot to keep it.

  “Because, Peaches, I’m the only fucking man for you, and you’ll realize it really fucking soon.”

  I forcibly shut my legs. The defiance is new, but he likes the challenge. He gives me a quirked eyebrow, the oh, really? expression. His hands slide up my thighs. Then, his mouth follows the path. He kisses my hips and my stomach where my stretch marks reside, licking each one.

  “So fucking beautiful, Peaches.” He continues to make me writhe with his teasing, and eventually, my legs fall apart of their own volition. “Have I ever told you that your scars are what make you so sexy? Knowing that I planted my seed in that precious cunt of yours?” he rasps, tracing those very scars with his fingers.

  Shivers take over my body, pebbling my nipples. No, he’s never said that, and he doesn’t utter the word cunt on any occasion. There has to be a blush covering my face because the heat is unbearable. I feel like I just ran a marathon in ninety-degree weather. Yet, here he is making me only hotter.

  Shaking my head softly, I reach for his hand. When he pulls away, I pout.

  Giving in to his silent demands, I lower my arms, waiting for him to pleasure me.

  “I’m going to love you so good, Peaches. I’m going to fuck you until this bed is drenched with our sins.”

  I gape at him while he smirks back at me, knowing he’s won once again.

  I’m going to fuck you until this bed is drenched with our sins.

  Until we're purged of all our sins.

  That’ll be a long fucking time.

  But I won’t stop trying.

  And it seems, neither will he.

  chapter forty-eight

  Jase

  “I need you to back off,” I tell Toby the next day while Lo’s still asleep in our bed, filled with our shared release. He knocked on the door not even a minute ago, already demanding to see her. Whether it’s from her not going back to my mom’s last night or his inane fantasy that she’ll somehow pick him, he’s not seeing her.

  “Now? Now you want her? Years later, when she finally sees you for the prick you are, now you want me to walk away? You’ve got to be fucking joking!” Toby’s voice raises, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline.

  “No, I’m not joking. You owe it to her and me to try and figure this shit out.”

  “I owe you nothing!” he berates, his face red.

  If he’s any louder, he’s going to wake up my girl.

  He pushes my chest. “I love her. I’ve loved her longer, Jason!” His voice is strained, full of pain and knowledge.

  He knows he lost, but he’s not giving up, not without digging that knife in deeper.

  “She loves me, too. She told me when she took my
cock.”

  Hearing it from him makes it real. She used it as a trigger to make me jealous when we fucked recently, but I didn’t realize it was true. His words are all it takes before I’m kicking his ass on my front porch. It only takes minutes before Lo’s rushing out of the house.

  “What the hell is going on?” she reprimands us both, standing between us.

  She looks at me, and when I don’t say a word, she turns to him. The guilt on his face must be enough of an answer for her because she turns toward me.

  “Jase,” she begins.

  My eyes close on their own accord and I only open them to show her my anguish. She doesn’t have to say anything, I know it’s true.

  “It was one time,” she explains, her face strained with regret.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  “You didn’t,” I accuse, sickness bubbling inside me. “Fucking Christ, Loren. Please say he lied.”

  “I can’t.” She shakes her head with the answer. “It happened.”

  “Fuck,” I sound out, fighting the nausea as my brother looks smug. “I need you to leave, Toby.”

  My voice is deadly, and he must hear it because he eyes Lo for a moment before turning away.

  She stares at me with guilt and acceptance. Instead of raging at her, being the hypocrite caveman that really is me, I hug her. I kiss her head.

  “I love you, Peaches. I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.”

  Because if she can somehow love me after all the shit I’ve put her through, I can learn to forgive her.

  “I’m pregnant, Jase.”

  As the words tumble from her lips, I’m both elated and devastated.

  Elated that my wife has a child, one I’ll love, cherish, raise, and protect, inside her.

  Devastated because it could be his.

  Yet, I still hold her.

  I still love her.

  I still hurt for her and us and for everything we’ve experienced together and apart.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Whether it’s his or mine, it’s fifty percent you, and that’s enough to make me never walk away. Like you always used to say, Peaches, everything falls into place when it’s meant to.”

  Her body shakes against mine. “I love you,” she cries.

  Holding her tighter with each sob that racks her frame, I wait for her to calm down.

  “I’m so fucking scared,” she admits, her voice cracking again.

  It’s then I realize we’ve been through something worse than a broken marriage. We lost a child. We mourned, and now she’s terrified of this round.

  “Me too,” I admit. “It’s all I’ll probably be able to think about, but guess what?” I nudge her chin, forcing her to peer into my eyes. “This time, we’ll do it together. No running away.”

  “No running away,” she agrees.

  I hug her until my arms ache, and she hugs me back until all her tears are gone.

  With each breath, we’re reunited.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Breathe.

  epilogue

  Seven-ish months later

  Lo

  “Jase!” Lo screams, her voice sending chills down my spine.

  Flashbacks of the day we lost Lilac thrum through my skull. Blood. So much blood.

  I had been sitting in my office, finishing up my last contract. Everything else will be done from home and the rest will be on the shoulders of my employees, including Sally. After Lo and I had a conversation about what never happened, she talked to Sally herself. By the time their discussion was over, Lo came back to me and told me to promote Sally. She’s now the team leader, and taking on a lot of my work.

  A lot has happened since that day. Lo and I have been in therapy, working out all the baggage and resentment. It’s a work in progress, but perfection only comes with time. She smiles now—all the time—and my kids seem better.

  We got married again. It wasn’t a big ceremony, but a small one, at the beach with our family.

  The first thing I promised my wife when we renewed our vows was to allow her to go to work while I stayed at home with our newest bundle. Our rainbow baby.

  Now, I’m running down the hall, into the room, seeing her standing but shaking, the ground wet and her eyes full of terror.

  “My water broke,” she cries, her lip wobbling with anxiety.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I coo, walking to her, being as gentle as can be. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this. Let’s get the bag and head out.”

  Inside, though, I’m freaking the fuck out, praying this doesn’t happen again. We couldn’t survive it. For the last few months, we’ve re-bonded. She moved to my mom’s, and every day, like when we were teens, I asked her to be mine.

  It took time, just like before, and we built it up from there. Neither of us has seen or spoken with Toby since that day. He doesn’t even know she’s pregnant, and neither of us knows whose baby she’s giving birth to, not genetically at least. Either way, it’s mine.

  We’re stronger, our love and bond growing and fixing every single day. Jazzy is happy, and Ace is... Ace.

  Everything becomes a whirlwind of frantic activity. After six hours of labor, my wife pushes and pushes and pushes. She cries while I rub her forehead and kiss her, telling her she’s beautiful and strong and perfect.

  When our baby comes, my heart is suspended in the air.

  Then, there’s a scream.

  Lo cries in relief, and I follow suit. We share a look, knowing that this time we did it. This time, we’re together.

  “It’s a boy,” the doctor congratulates us, handing me the umbilical cord to snip.

  “Leviathan Alder Collins,” Lo says immediately. I smile at her choice and nod to the doctor.

  “Leviathan, it is.”

  After I cut the cord, the baby’s crying until Lo coddles him to rest. While we both break down in tears of joy, I don’t let either of them go. It’s as if the world knows we need this moment, realizing we handled every bad thing, and every obstacle thrown our way, just to get to here.

  Because even though we lost one another, she finally came back to me.

  Just like she promised.

  “Do you love me?” she questions, her eyes wet with emotion, all while holding our newest bundle to her chest.

  “I fucking do,” I confess, lost in the moment with the love of my life.

  The End

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of

  Breathe (Hollow Ridge #2)

  Prologue

  Toby

  Every day it’s like this.

  Run.

  Sweat.

  Weight lifting.

  Exhaustion.

  To distract myself from my problems, I run until I can’t. I workout until my limbs are heavy with exhaustion. I exert myself until my body shuts down. My mind works until it’s a heap of nothingness, too, because that’s easier than accepting the fate I’ve been given. The one I single-handedly served myself on a platter full of blood, guts, and bones, hoping for a better outcome than becoming a meal. But that’s what happens when you hope. You lose, and until you weigh the loss with the outcome, you’re bound to give up more than you bargained for.

  My feet stop at the Magic Bean, the shop Lo and I always went to after runs. The craving for a Danish—one I’ve bought her on many occasions—stabs through my stomach, reminding me how little I eat or indulge anymore. As soon as I walk through the door, the heat outside is replaced by a crisp breeze and the scent of my favorite beverage. Black coffee, no sugar.

  The clerk behind the counter isn’t someone I recognize, but of course not. A lot has changed in the three years I’ve been gone. Why not take my favorite barista too?

  As soon as it’s my turn at the counter, I see Alara. My favorite coffee shop employee comes out from the back. She eyes me almost like she’s not sure if it’s really me. As soon as her mind connects with my face, she smiles and moves the dude clerk away.

  “Tobias Hayes, is that you
?” she questions, her voice her usual cheery self.

  I grin back, happy to see a friendly face in Hollow Ridge. “Sure is. Can I get my regular?”

  “A black coffee?” she jests and laughs.

  She used to joke that only psychopaths drink coffee black. It’s not a bad assessment according to the people around me.

  I nod, giving her my card. As soon as I sign the receipt, giving her a nice tip, I wait for my coffee. It only takes thirty seconds before I have it gripped in my hand. When I turn around, my hand slips.

  Do you hear that sound? That’s my life fracturing in this moment. The room is silent, yet the coffee cup dropping from my grasp, spilling over, and toppling to the ground is like a large thump, mimicking my heartbeat. Everyone’s gaze lands on me, making me more aware of where I’m currently residing. Their expressions range from worry and confusion to annoyed and amused.

  I ignore them. They don’t matter in the end.

  My eyes go back to what made me drop my coffee, or rather, who.

  Years.

  It’s been several years since I've seen her.

  The pain is as fresh as a brutal collision. It’s as real as a moment of disaster in a beautiful package. It’s as damning as an end before it began.

  Her short hair is now long again, the tresses hitting her mid-back like then. But it’s not then. It’s now. It’s bitterness in a cup of whiskey. It’s distaste in a cup of joe with sugar. It’s heartbreak in a room of dead people.

  She’s even more beautiful now.

  Radiant.

  Delicate.

  Fierce.

  Her eyes light up, but the glossiness isn’t like before. Back then, they were always brimming with tears of heartache. They’re currently shining with affection, the vast difference between before and now is stifling.

  The affection she offers has everything to do with the russet brown-haired toddler begging for her attention. He can’t be older than two, but something about him triggers something in me.