The Other Side: The Affair, Companion Book 3

by Jaimes, Aidèe

  My eyes still focused beyond her, I say, “Hi, Momma. Neither of you answered your phone all day and I got worried.”

  “Oh, Boey, I’m sorry. Now what did I do with that durn thing. Dan, you seen my phone?” she yells out, even though he’s standing beside her.

  “It’s all right, Momma. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay, well, I’m sorry, darlin’. But at least you get to meet the girls.” She scrunches her nose at me, a movement I catch from the corner of my eye before she reaches out to pinch my forearm. “Behave,” she mouths, turning and going into the main room. “Girls, Jess, Cris, this is my son, Bo.”

  I see Cris on the floor in the midst of a strange battle of wills with her daughter as she tries to get up.

  I walk directly to the object of my obsession and stop right behind her. No point in beating around the bush. Her little girl sees me first, letting go of her mother’s shirt and hiding between her legs. Cris finally stands awkwardly. She turns her head to me, then her eyes slowly travel up my chest and to my face. Her breathing hitches as her honeyed gaze meets mine.

  It pleases me to no end to know that she’s as sexy as I remembered. Exactly as I remembered. It pleases me more to know that I have an effect on her too.

  “It’s nice to officially meet you, Cris,” I say, stretching my hand to her.

  She looks at it before giving me her much smaller one to shake. The warmth of her skin nearly burns me, but I don’t let it go. I want to feel it.

  “I’m sorry?” she asks distractedly, as if she didn’t hear me.

  “I met Jess. But I think you left before I got your name.”

  “Cris,” she says, even though I just called her that.

  “So you girls have been keeping my mom pretty busy, huh? I can’t tell you how glad I am that she has you all. She’s moved onto the perfect street.”

  She nods, averting her eyes. I’ve played this scene in my head over and over again, imagining what I’d say if I had the chance to talk to her. In my mind, she flirted, but seeing her search for an exit is almost as fun. I like that I make her feel nervous. She makes me feel that and so many other things I can’t put into words. Heat, desire, excitement. A need to make her mine and mine alone.

  “Well, come on, girls. Let’s chat while the cornbread bakes.” Momma settles into a chair in one of the living rooms, the not-so-fancy-so-it’s-okay-to-sit one that’s not going to be turned into Dan’s man cave.

  I take a seat beside her, figuring Cris will go to the couch.

  The girls follow us in. Their kids find a spot in the corner to play, but to my disappointment, only Jess plants herself on the couch next to Dan, who’s sleeping. Instead of sitting across from me, Cris pulls up a chair behind us.

  As Dan snores away the afternoon, my mother goes on and on about something, but I have no idea what. All I’m aware of is that she’s behind me, and the fact that I can’t see her is completely unacceptable.

  I don’t get the idea Cris is normally this anti-social. Not according to my mom, anyway. And the brief glances her friend keeps giving her say a lot about the strangeness of the situation. So I decide that I’m the one who’s going to have to do something about it.

  If I’m making her squirm, I want to be able to see it.

  I stand without a word and walk between my mother and Jessica, moving to a wingback chair that’s set at an angle. Incredulity written all over her face, Cris watches me as I sit in it, facing her. Her cheeks redden and she quickly looks away.

  But I keep my eyes on her and take her in, every bit of her. The messy hair that makes me think of rumpled sheets, the full lips that beg to be bitten. The way the tops of her breasts swell over the neck of her spaghetti strap shirt. I don’t think she meant to look so damn sexy that I’d want to devour her. But she does.

  She chews on that plump lower lip and I nearly groan because it should be my teeth nipping at the skin there. They’d travel over her mouth and to her chin, then I’d gather that messy hair back and expose her throat to me. I’d bite her there too as my hands snuck under her skirt and pulled down her panties. My fingers would find the wetness between her legs and—

  “Bo, where are you?” my mother interrupts my wet daydream, waving her hand in front of my face.

  Cris’s eyes snap to mine, and she visibly swallows. “Excuse me, I’m gonna check on the kids,” she says and moves away.

  “Sorry, Momma, what was that?” I shift my attention to her, but my eyes remain glued to Cris.

  “Never mind,” she tells me, and I don’t follow the remainder of the conversation, not that I’d been a participant in any of it. Lunch is much the same, with Cris avoiding me at every turn, which only serves to encourage me more.

  I’m disappointed when it’s over, not having had a real chance to talk to her. To connect in some way. I follow her, Jess, and the kids to the door as we all make to leave, my mother trailing close behind us.

  “Oh, wait! I didn’t pack any cornbread for you girls to take home. And I’ll get some for you too, Boey.” My mom heads toward the kitchen.

  Jess turns to walk back with her, stopping Cris when she begins to follow. “You get the kids; I’ll get the cornbread. Sorry!” Then Jess lets out a small laugh.

  We stand in the foyer, and Cris pretends not to be affected by me, but I know she can feel me as much as I can her. The atmosphere is practically vibrating with electricity, particles dancing off my skin at her proximity. She’s so damned close that I could reach out and touch her. And something tells me she’d let me.

  As she inspects the pictures on the buffet table, many of which I’m in, I think, Turn. Turn and look at the real me. But she doesn’t. Not right away. Instead, her breathing pattern changes, telling me she’s consciously controlling it. Or trying to, at least.

  Then when it all but stops, she looks up. Her eyes lock with mine, daring me to glance away. I don’t. I want her to know there’s no mistake about what I want. Her.

  My lips pull up and I grin because in her face, I read the truth. She wants me too.

  As if she’s seen the devil in my eyes, she takes the kids by the hand and bursts through the front door, leaving me to stare after her.

  “Where’d Cris go?” Jess asks as she approaches me.

  “Something must have scared her off,” I tell her.

  “Hmm,” she responds with a knowing look on her face. “Well, guess I better go too. Thank you, Mrs. Jensen, for an amazing lunch.”

  “All right, sugar. We’ll see you later.”

  The moment Jess leaves, I turn to my mother. “I’ve also gotta go. Thanks for— Ouch! What was that for?” I ask, rubbing the sore spot on my arm from where she’s pinched me.

  “I warned you about this obsession you have with that girl. What are you playin’ at, Bo?”

  “It was innocent flirting.”

  “Innocent? Bourbon Street is more innocent than those looks you were givin’ each other.”

  “So you saw her looking at me too?”

  She whacks me this time. “Yes, I saw. Cher, what’s gotten into you?”

  “I don’t know, Momma. When I’m around her, I can’t think straight.” I press my fingers hard against my temples. It’s true. Cris overrides my brain so much it hurts.

  “Then I suggest you don’t come around her anymore. She’s a married woman, and I love you, son, but you’d be nothin’ but trouble for her. You could destroy her life! If you like her as much as I think you do, consider that.”

  I want to argue with her because it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone as much as I do Cris. If ever. Every part of me rebels against the idea of her already belonging to someone else. But my mother’s right. I’d destroy her life.

  “Okay, Momma.”

  “You’ll stay away?”

  “If she’s happy, I’ll stay away.” This time I make the promise I intend to keep. If she’s happy.

  “Good. She is, Boey. She’s very happy in her marriage.”

&
nbsp; 4

  I was told not to come around her anymore. To avoid Cris at all costs. She’s a happily married woman.

  Easier said than done when everything I am is pulled to her like some powerful magnetic attraction I can’t fight. It’s a biological thing, I tell myself. Our chemistry is undeniable. Our nature is to procreate with the best match to our body’s makeup, and she’s mine.

  Which is why, when I see that she’s in her garage as I park at my parent’s house, I watch her. From where I stand, it appears as if she’s working on a table, painting it. She’s alone, her daughter nowhere in sight.

  I should turn around, head into the house and forget she’s there. But I can’t.

  Instead, my legs move of their own accord, crossing the street and walking up her driveway. She peeks up at me from under long lashes, her hair piled on her head in a loose bun with long strands framing her face.

  The gold of her irises is enhanced by the white patches of paint smudged over her cheeks. She’s a mess, and she’s absolutely perfect. Even those jean overalls that look like they’ve come straight from the bayou don’t take away from her sex appeal.

  “Hi,” she says breathily.

  “What’re you making?” I ask her.

  “It’s a little side table for my daughter’s playroom.”

  “Looks good.”

  “Thanks, I made it myself.” She grins at me proudly.

  “You make a lot of things yourself?”

  “Some. I’m very good with my hands.”

  At that, my gaze goes to her lips, and I have to wonder if she’s as good with that mouth as she is her hands.

  Longing to take my shirt off to dispel the sudden rise in temperature, I clear my throat and say, “Where’s Mia?”

  “She’s at Jess’s house. Bo?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I have a table just inside that’s too heavy for me. Would you help me move it out here?”

  I glance at the door that leads into the house, then back at her. Her breathing is shallow, and when she swallows hard, I can tell she’s nervous.

  “Your husband can’t help you with it?” I ask, hoping she hears the real question.

  “I’d like you to.”

  Nodding, I follow her in, closing the door behind us.

  “Where is it?” I ask her.

  “It’s—”

  I’m on her before she can finish.

  There’s no damned table to move, and if there is, I don’t care. Digging my fingers into her thick hair, I kiss her the way I’ve been dying to. Her fervent response as I urge her to open her mouth for me only stokes an already raging fire.

  I press her against the kitchen counter, forcing her up. Her legs wrap around my waist and I feel the heat of her core through my clothes.

  Releasing her full lips only to trail kisses over her jaw and to her ear, I whisper, “Cris, if you want me to stop, tell me, because I won’t do it of my own will. I know you belong to someone else, but I don’t care.”

  “Don’t stop, Bo. I’ve wanted you too.” Her mouth is on mine once again. She tastes like sin. She is sin. This is sin. And it’s going to damn my soul, but I can’t pull away. Not now.

  Her hands are under my shirt, nails at my back as I grind my erection against her. When she moans into my mouth, I breathe her in. Then she tugs my shirt over my head.

  I unbuckle her overalls and they fall to her waist, exposing her beautiful breasts to me. It’s not until now that I realize something’s off. How could she have been out there without a shirt? But I choose to ignore it because I want this too much.

  My shorts drop to the floor and when I look up, she’s lying on the counter, naked, her hair fanned out around her face. Ready for me like a damned feast, and I’m starved. I trace my fingertips over her smooth skin, from her toes, up her legs, and to her hips. I bend down, gently kissing her naval. Letting my tongue do the trailing now, I drag it up her stomach and run it along the underside of her breast.

  Her breathing becomes erratic as I get closer to her nipple. When I take the firm peak into my mouth, she moans. The harder I suck, the higher her hips lift. Then I move to the opposite breast that’s just as full and beautiful. I nip the crest, all the while brushing my fingers over the other one. Wouldn’t want it to feel left out.

  Cris’s cries get louder. She reaches down, her hand wrapping around my shaft and squeezing. I angle my body so that she’s able to stroke me while I kiss my way to the juncture between her legs. But the moment her scent reaches my brain and the taste of her fills my mouth, I realize this won’t last long. The inner beast I’ve kept at bay is set loose and is completely out of my control.

  I pull out of her hand and position myself between her legs so I can see her better, feel her more, and eat her the way she deserves. Fuck that. The way I’ve wanted to eat her since the day I first saw her.

  My lips press against her, and I touch my tongue to her clit, just the tip at first. When she begins to writhe, I suck it completely into my mouth, and she spreads her legs wider. Then I ease up before starting again.

  I insert a finger into her channel and moan when I realize how tight she is. Shit. My dick twitches. She’s going to fit me like a glove.

  She tugs at my hair, and when she pulses around me and I know she’s coming, I stand, unable to wait any longer.

  Climbing onto the counter, I push her knees back and watch as her eyes glaze over when she notices what I’m about to fuck her with.

  I want to tell her I’ll go slow, but I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.

  Pressing the tip of my dick against her slick entrance, I close my eyes and thrust—

  My arms collapse as they lose their hold on her. Confused as shit, I gaze around to find the room I’ve slept in for years, yet I can’t comprehend it. Because only a second ago, I was in Cris’s kitchen, about to fuck her until we both lost our minds. Only, I’m not. There’s no kitchen, no counter about to be defiled. No Cris. Though there certainly is a boner.

  “Fuck!” I get out of bed, letting my dick lead the way to the bathroom for a cold shower.

  I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Sweat beads off my brow and my pupils are still dilated from the lust.

  One side of my mouth quirks up as I relive the dream. It may have been all in my mind, but I’ll never forget how she looked—like a goddess ready to worship. It’s a memory I’ll take to the grave.

  5

  “Whatcha think, Bobo? Bo? Boey-poo. Are you even listenin’ to me?”

  My “accidental girlfriend’s” voice pierces the very fabric of my brain. It’s not her. It’s me. It’s that I’m too damned aware that Cris will be here at any moment.

  We’re standing in the garage with several others, greeting everyone through the open door as we drink a few beers.

  No matter how hard I’ve tried to move on from the idea of Cris, I can’t. For over six months, I’ve let my mother keep me from seeing her, always making sure I’m not there when she is. If she sees her on the street, she pushes me into the house. If we’re already inside, she closes the blinds.

  But she can’t keep us apart today. Not when I’ve invited everyone she knows to her seventieth “Big Easy” birthday party at my house in Huntersville. The day I sent the invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Owen Roberts, my hand shook from tying her to another man’s name. Yet the thought of seeing her again in person after months of imagining her only in my dreams has me anxious. Crazed. There’s no room for thoughts of anyone but her.

  I look at Dawn, see her mouth moving. She’s just asked me a question, but I’ve been so busy watching as guests arrive that I have no idea what she’s saying. “Sure,” I reply.

  “Sure.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I shrug.

  “Sure what?”

  “Sure what you said.”

  “And what exactly was that?” Her arms cross and she taps a long nail against her forearm. “I knew you weren’t listenin’.”

  “Sorry. Tell me a
gain.” The moment I say it, there’s a commotion out in my drive, and once again, whatever Dawn has to say becomes nothing but background noise.

  A white Civic that I immediately recognize as Cris’s is doing some strange back and forth movement as she tries, but fails miserably, to parallel park behind a minivan. One of the attendants I’ve hired to help with the large number of vehicles I expect to be here is gesturing wildly at her.

  The edges of my mouth pull up as I watch the humorous display.

  Suddenly, the window rolls down and I hear, “Can I just leave it like this?” coming from her.

  One of the valets steps up to her. “Geev me yor kees. I move,” he tells her.

  She steps out of the vehicle, offering him the keys. From the back seat, she pulls out her daughter and a large gift, which she clumsily attempts to hold as she takes her little girl’s hand and walks over the uneven ground.

  Doing an awkward dance, she makes her way to the door, yet I’m so insanely attracted to her that everyone else, including my date, vanishes. There’s nothing but Cris in her formfitting black shirt that displays the shape of her breasts so perfectly, she might as well be wearing nothing at all.

  When she spots me, her step falters just enough for me to tell that seeing me has affected her. My smile broadens, and though I try to seem cool and collected while I sit on a lawn chair with my legs relaxed in front of me, I’m anything but.

  Come this way, I think. Come closer.

  But she doesn’t. Instead, she disappears around the corner, heading toward the front door.

  A slap on my shoulder makes me turn. Dawn’s brown eyes are spitting fire, her large chest heaving.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Let’s go out back.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. The party is exactly where I want to be. Large purple and green covered tables full of my mother’s favorite Cajun dishes—jambalaya, étouffée, andouille, and cornbread— have been placed on one side of the pool.

  “There’s your mom!” Dawn points with glee.