“Why wasn’t I told about this sooner?” I ask, focusing my attention on something other than the fact that my husband bought and remodeled an apartment without me knowing. Betrayal consumes me but oddly, I feel numb to it. As if I’d known all along. As if I’d turned a blind eye. It’s not naivety or trustworthiness. It’s me being stupid. All the late nights at the office, all the weekend trips … My skin pricks and a numbing tingle goes through me. He told me it was just once when I found him in bed with another woman. I try to breathe in easier, but my throat is closing.
Disbelief is outrageous. He didn’t. He wasn’t cheating on me. There’s no way.
“You were given the paperwork, Julia. You signed everything after the funeral.”
I look up at Allen, feeling betrayed by him just as much as my husband. I want to question him, scream at him. But at the same time, I don’t care. I had this coming to me.
I didn’t know about this debt. I didn’t know about the apartment. I didn’t know about a damn thing because I trusted them.
“I was mourning,” I say and I can barely get out the words. They’re cold and stagnant. Just a lame excuse for my ignorance.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Anderson.” He starts to say something else but I rise from my chair, a bitter taste in my mouth as I bite out, “Don’t call me that.”
He cocks a brow at me as I start to leave. “You need to sign these, Julia,” he says matter-of-factly, speaking to me like my father does. Ignoring my emotions and simply telling me what I need to do.
My shoulders shudder as I open the door with my back to him and grip the cold brass knob for dear life.
“Email them to me,” I tell him. “Email everything to me.”
“I suggest you read them quickly,” he says to my back as I walk through the door.
I nod my head but I don’t verbally respond; I don’t trust myself to speak. I don’t look back at him and I don’t even breathe until I’m in the elevator. I can’t relax though, even in the empty, closed-off space. I want to sag against the wall, gripping the steel handles. I want to hit the emergency button and give in to the pathetic emotions of sadness and betrayal.
More than any of that, I want to see this apartment and I want to see how the hell my money was spent. I need to get myself together and figure out how deep of a hole I’m in and more importantly, how to get out.
Mason
Knock. Knock. Knock. My knuckles rap against Jules’s door quickly. A second passes and I take a look around, shoving my hands into my suit pockets. The Upper East Side screams old money and is far more traditional compared to downtown where I live.
My father’s home is only a few blocks from here.
Jules’s street is different from where I grew up, though. The cream stone and intricate carvings have history to them. Real history. I glance back at the small iron picket fence and gate in front of her house. The city sidewalk is just beyond it, littered with people walking by.
I rock on my heels and knock again, wondering what they think of this house.
It looks like wealth and with the well-maintained garden, it only adds to the beauty of the old house.
I’ve been inside Julia’s home a handful of times now, and it’s odd that I feel nervous about being here now. It’s because I’m coming through the front door in daylight. I smirk at the thought, but it’s true. My forehead pinches as I knock again, using the large iron door knocker this time.
The door swings open and there’s my Jules, but she doesn’t stay there long. She leaves the door hanging open and disappears inside, claiming that she has to get something, but I didn’t hear what.
“Jules?” I call out after her, placing a hand on the heavy red door and peek inside after her. The door creaks and I second-guess going inside after her, but she doesn’t answer me.
Taking a few steps inside, I flick on the light switch to my right before shutting the front door. A large crystal chandelier lights up the large hallway. The ceilings are taller than they seem at night. Paisley wallpaper in shades of pale blue and cream covers the upper half of the walls with a deeper blue painted below the chair rail.
It’s modern and updated with a feminine and elegant touch, definitely not my taste, but it still holds the classic beauty of the home. A mix of modern and traditional. It’s all Jules.
“Jules,” I call out again, pocketing my keys and wiping my shoes on the mat before stepping onto the plush area rug in the foyer.
“I’m sorry,” I hear Jules say through the hall before I see her. She rounds the corner of what looks like the dining room, both hands on her left ear as she slips an earring into place. She’s barefoot, wearing a navy blue dress with white polka dots and a skinny white leather belt at her waist. She’s gorgeous as always, but something’s off. Something’s wrong although I can’t tell what.
“Everything okay?” I ask carefully, staying right where I am as she bends down to slip on a pair of navy blue heels.
“Fine, just fine.” She shakes out her hair and stands upright, taking a step toward me before turning on her heel and heading back the way she came.
I follow her into the dark dining room. It doesn’t look a damn thing like a dining room, though. The furniture is all here, but stacks of papers cover the table, along with a laptop. On top of the buffet is a printer. She’s using the room as an office.
“Sorry about the mess.” Her voice is dampened as she turns around. “I just need my purse.” She starts to walk past me, making her way to the door, but I put my arm out, my palm against the doorway and wait for her to look at me.
When she does, my heart drops. Her eyes are rimmed in red. Although her makeup is flawless, she can’t hide that she was crying. Not from me.
“What’s wrong?” It comes out as a question, but it’s more of a command.
Her lips are the same dark red shade they were when I first met her and as she parts them, my eyes are drawn to them. She doesn’t say anything though, she merely licks them and turns away from me. For the first time since we met, she’s deliberately disobeying me. Hiding from me.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pushes my arm away, to leave me and deny me again, but I’m not letting this go. I grip her hip tight enough that she stops and looks at me.
“That’s not how this works. I told you, if you’re with me, you’re with me.” Her hard expression vanishes as I speak to her, replaced by nothing but hurt.
“You don’t own me.” She bites out the words meant to make me mad, meant to destroy the ease between us.
“It’s not about that, Jules.” My voice is low as I release her. She doesn’t walk off; she stands there waiting for my next move. She has to know how good this is between us. She knows whatever the hell it is, I’ll take the burden from her.
“I don’t like seeing you upset.” I bring my lips closer to hers. “Tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it.” I open my mouth to give her a reason not to push me away, to tell her that she can trust me. That I care for her, to tell her everything I know she wants to hear, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Luckily, I don’t have to.
She moves her hands to her face for only a moment, her expression crumpling before she falls into my chest. She gives in to me so easily. It’s addictive. I wrap my arms around her, feeling her shoulders shake and shudder with a soft sob.
“I didn’t want to cry again,” she says into my chest, muffled by the suit jacket and her hands still covering her face. She inhales deeply as I bend down, running my hand up and down her back in soothing strokes and kiss her hair repeatedly.
“It’s all right, whatever it is, I’ll take care of it.” I don’t know why I promise her something I know I may not be able to accommodate. It’s stupid of me to say it and it gets the reaction it should from an independent woman like Jules. She pushes away from me, wiping under her eyes and taking a shuddering breath.
“It’s nothing you—” she stops to close her eyes and calm herself. “It can’t be fixed.” She glances at
a photograph in a silver frame behind her on the wall and then wipes under her eyes again, walking to a large mirror on the far side of the dining room.
I only catch a glimpse of the photograph before turning my back to it. It’s from her wedding day and he’s in it. Obviously. He was her husband after all.
Panic races through me and a sick feeling churns my stomach. “It’s about your husband?”
She peeks over her shoulder, looking guilty. The fucking irony. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” My steps are just as careful as my words as I walk over to her, placing a hand on her delicate shoulder and watching her in the mirror. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” she answers quickly and sniffles once. She’s already fixed her makeup and looking as though she’s back to pretending nothing’s wrong, but then her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Her baby blues are filled with anger and an unforgiving chill. “He had an apartment,” she says with certainty. “A place for his mistresses or one-night stands or whatever they were.”
I attempt a look that expresses shock, but none of that is news to me. I wasn’t sure if she knew. For the first time since meeting her, I feel guilty for not telling her. As if somehow I could have saved her this heartache if I’d given her a piece of the truth. Only a piece.
She laughs something wicked and sad, a mix of both as she shakes her head and says, “You think I’m pathetic, don’t you? A housewife who had no idea what her husband was doing behind her back.” Her voice is strained toward the end of the statement and the strength leaves her with each word. I hate how she does this. How she blames herself, belittles herself. She’s stronger than she knows. And worth so much more.
“What he did is a reflection of himself, not you.” Taking another step closer to her, I stand behind her with her back touching my chest, just barely. “You aren’t pathetic, Jules.” I kiss the side of her neck, my eyes on hers in the mirror as I say, “I’d never think that.”
“I do,” she says. “He cheated once. He was so upset. He cried and swore up and down he’d never do it again. And I believed him.”
My heart beats erratically and I’m desperate to ask who he cheated with. to see if Jules knows her name. I keep my mouth closed and wait for more from her.
“I believed him.” The pain comes through in her words as she turns in my arms, placing her small hands on the lapels of my jacket. Her eyes travel along the buttons of my shirt, her fingers soon following. “I really thought he was good to me.”
I pull away slightly, taking her wrists gently in my hands and getting her attention. “I’m sorry,” I tell her with true sympathy but it comes out rough and short, shocking her.
She pulls away from me. “I am too,” she says to the ground, turning around and brushing the hair out of her face. “I think maybe tonight—”
I can hear the excuse already, I can see her pushing me away and I’m not going to let it happen. There’s no way I’m leaving until I know she’s still mine.
Each time she questions me or what’s going on between us, I feel the need to hold her tighter.
“Come here,” I command her. She stops in her tracks, peeking up at me through thick lashes with a question in her eyes. She doesn’t ask whatever it is though, she obeys me, taking two small steps back to me in those heels.
“He was a fool to cheat on you.” As I speak, I brush my thumb along her delicate jaw.
She huffs a small laugh at me and I didn’t expect that. I narrow my eyes as she says, “You’re a well-known player, Mason.” The humor vanishes and her smile fades to nothing as she adds, “You don’t have to pretend to care. I’ll be fine.”
My chest tightens with anger. She can have an attitude about him all she wants. But there are boundaries when it comes to us. I won’t allow her to demean our relationship. “Bend over the table.” I grit the words out between my teeth. I don’t even think twice about it.
She merely blinks at me, shocked. She should have known better.
“Now, Jules.” My voice comes out hard and I almost take it back. But this is the man I am and this is what she’s going to get. There’s a war brewing between us, causing the air to suffocate me. I need Jules for the woman she truly is, not this version that the memory of her husband brought back.
She holds my gaze for a moment and my pulse flickers, thinking I’m going to lose her, but she caves before I even blink, submitting just like she wants to. Good girl.
She presses her hips against the table, slowly leaning down to lay her upper body against the tabletop. That’s the beauty of our relationship—she wants to give in. She desperately wants to trust someone and not be hurt.
“Lift up your dress.”
I hear her breathing pick up. “Mason—” she starts to say.
“No, no talking. No excuses.” I palm my dick but I have no intention of fucking her. This is all about pleasing her and showing her what she means to me. Showing her what I can give her. “Lift up your dress and show me your pussy.” I crouch down behind her as she slowly pulls the cotton fabric up her thighs and exposes her black panties.
My fingers trail up her thighs slowly to her ass, then up to the small of her back, pressing her down flat. I carefully push the panties out of my way, taking a languid lick of her pussy. My tongue brushes along the lacy material and I almost rip them as I pull them farther away, but decide to use my fingers for a better use.
I play at her clit first, gently running my nail across the swollen nub and then back to her entrance. Goosebumps travel along her body. It doesn’t take long before she’s glistening for me, her wet folds begging for my attention.
She hums as she relaxes on the table. It’s going to be a slow build for her. I don’t care about our dinner reservations. She’ll have to deal with being late.
I slide my middle finger deep inside her as I stand up behind her, keeping my other hand on her hip. Her eyes are closed as I fuck my finger in and out of her, loosening her up and testing her readiness. Remembering my anger I pick up my pace and slip another finger into her.
“Come on, Jules,” I say and kiss the back of her neck. “Tell me again how I don’t care.” A strangled cry leaves her as I press against her clit and she whimpers an apology, still struggling to get away from the intense pleasure.
I push three fingers deep inside of her tight pussy, stroking against her front wall right where that sensitive bundle of nerves is and I don’t let up as she moans. Her body writhes in an attempt to get away, pulling at the tablecloth and kicking one leg out, but I’ve got her pinned down to the table with my hip. One hand continues to rub her hard nub ruthlessly, while the other is inside of her dripping wet cunt.
“I would never cheat on you.” And then I tell her, “I’d never take advantage of you.” She has no idea how true those words are.
“Mason.” She cries out my name as she tightens around my fingers. My. Name. I want her to come undone screaming my name. To find her release with what I do to her all because she let me. All she has to do is give in to me.
“Tell me you understand, Jules.” I’m not letting her get off until I hear her say it. I swear to God I’ll stop it all if she doesn’t give me that.
I may be holding back the truth, but I’m not lying.
“Yes,” she moans out as she thrashes her head.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Mason.”
I smile into her hair, slowing my pace and making her whimper as she desperately rocks her pussy into my hand.
“Yes, Mason what?”
My heart thrums in my chest, but I need to hear her say it. I don’t want that shit with her husband having anything to do with what we have with each other.
“You wouldn’t do that.” She bites her lip looking back at me with a plea for mercy. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
I crash my lips into hers and fuck her cunt with my fingers, relentlessly pressing against her swollen nub. She cries into my mouth as her release hits her hard, her head banging on the tab
le as she tries to pull away from the intensity. I don’t let up, coaxing out every single bit of her orgasm from her.
Her back bows with tremors still rocking through her. This is how I want her, always.
No worries in her soft blue eyes, only a look of pleasure on her face.
A look that I put there.
My dick’s hard as a fucking rock, but this isn’t for me. She looks over her shoulder, still panting with her fingers gripping the cream tablecloth. She’s waiting for me to take from her. To fuck her right here and now. But that picture of her husband is right there.
Part of me wants to do it. To force that beautiful cunt to spasm on my dick in front of him. To show him how a real man would treat her. But I can’t. I need to get the fuck out of here.
I pull her hips back, her ass pressed against my hard cock.
Her lashes flutter and her wide eyes look back at me, waiting for whatever I have to say. “Dinner first, sweetheart.” I kiss her gently then brush her clit through her panties and smile as a tremor runs through her body and forces her head back against my shoulder.
I kiss the dip in her neck and whisper in her ear, “Tonight.”
Julia
Naive and stupid, this shit has to end.
What did I think? I can’t comprehend.
Mistakes belong where they’re made, in the past.
I knew better, I knew this wouldn’t last.
It left me numb, dead in the ditch.
Love is wrong and my heart’s a bitch.
I stare out the window of Mason’s car as the city lights flicker on, although it’s not even dark yet. Classical music fills the cabin and my body is still humming from the rush of pleasure he gave me moments ago.
But nothing is okay.
I need to end this. What’s the saying? Get over one man by getting under another? I’m not interested for two reasons:
I’m not over what Jace did to me.
I’m not ready for another man to do the same.
You Are My Reason (You Are Mine Book 1) Page 12
