Thirty Days: Part One

by Belle Brooks

  “Abigail.” He turns and glares at me with pure anger. “Get back in that car, you’re going home.” The back of his black suit faces me once more as he takes a step.

  “Oceans are just a large body of rough water that separate two places from one another. True love can defy all waves, storms, and rips. Eventually the ocean that separates us will become smaller and smaller until it’s just a puddle of water beneath our feet. One day you’ll be mine again. I just have to wait until our ocean becomes nothing more than a puddle. We are one, Abigail. I will wait for you,” I blurt out in hope.

  Marcus stops dead in his tracks. “Say that again,” he replies, his voice shocked.

  I say each word with conviction that this is a memory and something he hoped I’d remember one day.

  “Did you remember that?” His voice trembles with his back still turned to me.

  “Yes.”

  “Those were the last words I said to you before I left.” Marcus turns to face me. His eyes glisten with moisture as his lips curl upwards. “When?”

  “Last night in my dreams. I heard your voice as plain as day.”

  “Just a puddle now,” he whispers, closing the small gap between us.

  My stomach rolls like a wave crashing the shore as his fingers brush against my cheek.

  “I waited. I kept that promise,” he confesses.

  “Kiss me,” I offer. My breath stutters as his lips connect softly against mine. The passion, want, and lust he has for me is evident as his minty tongue swirls with mine. It’s a kiss that steals your breath and it’s like something that’s only seen in a movie. Marcus kissed me like it was the last time he would ever get the chance to kiss me. I remembered the last words he spoke to me before I forgot him. But why did I forget?

  Hope

  “Take her home, Grady,” Marcus says when our bodies part.

  “You’re still sending me back to the Sunshine Coast?”

  “To the manor.” He smiles. Relief tingles through my limbs as his smile illuminates my heart.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay,” I exhale before Grady escorts me back to the car, and Marcus disappears from sight.

  “I don’t know what you remembered, Abigail, but thank Christ…” He stops mid-sentence as liberation floods his face.

  “Can you tell me now, Grady?” I ask before he closes the car door.

  “No, but you will know soon enough.”

  I smile the whole way back to the manor. Whoever Marcus was to me, I’m going to find out, and for some reason there is no fear or panic present, only hope.

  As I place my bag onto the kitchen table where this morning I ate breakfast in a white lace bra, I look at the time on the stainless oven, 9:52 a.m. I have no idea what time Marcus will be coming back, but I do know that every minute is going to seem like a lifetime.

  “Abigail, I have to go. Please promise me that you will not leave this house for anything. Not once. Do not even go outside. Can you promise me that?” Grady’s eyes narrow as he waits for my answer.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m serious. If you do, you will be on the first plane out of here.”

  “I understand, Grady. I won’t leave.”

  “Good. There’s food in the fridge, television in the main lounge, and a library on the other side of the kitchen.”

  “Grady, I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” His dimple deepens with a smile before he exits.

  Alone in a house I’ve seen very little of since I arrived has me wandering. Behind the kitchen is a room that is closed off by a simple white door. Gently turning the handle, I’m satisfied to find a floor-to-ceiling library. It’s pristine and smells like knowledge, the only smell one can have when surrounded with literature. The books that sit on these shelves cover four walls. They look like they’ve never been opened or even touched, and as I run my fingers along their spines, I notice there’s not a speck of dust. Bizarre. Leaving each book where they’re shelved, I sit in awe of their beauty on a dusty pink chair positioned in the middle of the room. I’m not sure how long I stayed here, but when the door closes behind me I know that image will never leave my memory, even if Marcus had.

  Rubbing my palm across the banister leading to the upper level, I make a beeline for Marcus’ room. I pause before entering, but when I do my mouth gapes open. A room fit for a king was not an over dramatization on his part. This room is so large it makes mine down the hall look mediocre. The walls are covered in what looks like gold foil. The bed is exceptionally marvellous with many delicate carvings of horses and knights.

  “Where can one find these things,” I mutter, stalking over to an upright cupboard that almost touches the roof in height and spreads metres across the side wall. It’s the same colour of wood that is in my room, the same marksmanship. Pure amazement. There’s a sliding door not far from where this cupboard stands and as I slide it back, I’m shocked, yet amused, to find a bathroom made for the gods. “Shared space my arse,” I tut, my feet tiptoeing across blue/grey marble flooring. “Magician.” I smirk.

  Hearing a noise downstairs has me sliding the door closed and leaving the room with haste.

  “Hello,” I call. “Grady, did you forget something?”

  There is no reply. My skin tingles when I realise I’m still alone. “I hope that noise was in my head, because I’ll be fucked if I can go through what I did last night,” I spit, taking the stairs with hesitation. Too scared to go any farther into the house now, I take the laptop out of my bag and open the silver cover. “What have you got for me, social media?” Chatterbox opens. “Not much going on today,” I gripe as I wade through post after post. Pictures of my friends fill the screen, and posts of both bad and good days weave through my mind as a distraction, but nothing really turns off the swirl of thoughts that plague me, not even the latest hits playing lightly through the speakers. “How can one truly get lost in a world that exists only inside a screen?” I sigh, closing the program down. “God, I’m thirsty.” My feet lead me cautiously into the kitchen. Why am I so on edge? Taking a bottle from the fridge, I push the door closed and turn to make my way back to the table. The bottle drops from my hand and bounces across the tiles. I’m frozen.

  “Marcus, what are you doing here?”

  He doesn’t answer. He just stares at me with eyes that explode with desire. Reaching for the knot of his lavender tie, he loosens it and then removes it completely, letting it drop to the floor.

  “Marcus,” I whisper as my heart soars into my throat. Each arm slides with ease from his black jacket and that too finds the ground as his look grows even more intense and the colour of his eyes darkens.

  “I want you, Abi,” spills from his lips before he lunges forward and his mouth devours mine with need. “Abi,” he breathes, taking my hands in his, forcing our bodies backwards until we collide heavily against a vacant wall. Lifting my arms above my head and holding them in place with one hand, he allows the other to skim smoothly over my skin. First along my jawline, then down my neck and finally over the soft silk of my blouse at the breast. “Your skin, your face, your breasts. Perfect,” he compliments before his mouth crashes to mine and his body presses against me, firmly. Every thought that held me ransom washes away with this torrent of desire.

  “I’m yours,” I declare when his mouth leaves mine for air. My hair automatically falls free from its bind when the clip holding it in place is removed.

  “You’re mine,” he groans as his erection digs into my stomach.

  Throwing the clip to the floor, his hands run up my torso, stopping when he reaches the top button of my blouse. I wait for him to begin undoing each one, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rips the blouse open like an animal. The shock and pure control of this action has me moaning with a need so strong, I’ve no idea how I can feel so many emotions at once.

  The pulsating between my legs is unbearable as I jump up into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Please,” I beg as our eyes conn
ect.

  “My pleasure.” His eyes close briefly as the corners of his lips arch. “My fucking pleasure.”

  Enfolding my arms tightly around his neck, my lips suck his earlobe between my teeth. “Marcus,” I say quietly before kissing his neck.

  One hand grabs securely at the base of my head as the other supports my bottom. The stairs pass quickly and my breath hitches as I hear a door slam hard against the wall. Falling down, I’m swallowed by soft bedding.

  “I couldn’t wait any longer,” he confesses as he pulls my skirt from my hips until it’s freed completely. “You remembered me.” He smiles, leaning on top of my body.

  “The ocean is only a puddle now,” escapes my lips before my mouth is filled with the taste of mint once more.

  Two bodies in complete nakedness embrace each other as one when Marcus pulls me upwards and I sit straddling his waist, enjoying every swirl of his fingers against my skin.

  “Protection, Abigail,” he moans before I raise my bottom upwards and proceed to slide down his shaft until I’m filled completely. A noise of euphoria expels from my throat.

  “We’re safe, don’t worry,” I confess as my hips begin to rock, causing his head to jolt backwards.

  “Holy fuck,” he groans as my tongue traces his jawline. Marcus’ arms embrace me in a way that tells me he has held my body many times. “I’ve waited so long,” he cries out as my fingernails press deep into the flesh on his back, without thought.

  My body stops moving as an image flashes through my mind.

  “Abigail.” Marcus’ voice fills with concern.

  Taking quick breaths, panic begins to bubble within me. “I’ve done this before, haven’t I? My nails, your back?” I’m scared of his answer. Because something tells me my nails have marked his flesh on more than one occasion.

  “Yes,” he replies with a wicked grin and eyes that burn in a devilish way. “Mark me, Abigail. Make me yours again,” he instructs, laying me down as he stays between my legs.

  “We’ve slept together before that night on the Coast, haven’t we?”

  His head nods slowly.

  “But how? We couldn’t have. No, it’s impossible. When?”

  “Mark me, Abigail,” he coerces, and I’m not sure what comes over me, but I do. He doesn’t flinch as my nails drag outwards from the centre of his back. He just stares with those devil eyes and that wicked, yet sexy as fuck, grin. We lie connected as we gaze at each other, me lost and confused, but Marcus’ eyes are filled with wicked intent. He doesn’t move, he just waits.

  “I…shit…Marcus, I can’t—”

  “Do you want me to show you what else we used to do?”

  My heart beats erratically in my chest as his words spill from his mouth. Get the fuck out of here, my head screams, yet my pounding heart tells me to stay. Clasping my lip between my teeth, I nod.

  That fucking smile on his face broadens before his index finger removes my lip from between my teeth. Placing his mouth feather-light against mine, he takes each arm by my wrists and lifts them above my head. “Hold the bars, Abigail.”

  I do.

  “Good girl. Don’t let go, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I say, my voice hushed.

  Digging his fingers into each of my hip bones causes them to tilt upwards slightly. I feel him pulling himself out of me, but he stops just before we part. Staring with such depth I fear he has reached my soul, Marcus lunges forward, pushing himself so hard and deep inside me I call out in shock.

  “Did that hurt?” His eyes gleam as he draws back out again.

  “No,” I puff.

  He smiles before doing it again and again and again.

  “Oh fuck,” I scream as my body begins to build to the point of climax. “Please,” I beg with need.

  “Not yet.” He chortles, releasing my grip on the bars before flipping me over onto my knees. Marcus’ fingers trace either side of my spine and when they reach my lower back, he bites gently into the soft tissue of my arse cheek. I don’t flinch. I only desire more. Splayed hands fan evenly across my back and move upwards until they reach the tips of my shoulders. One hand curls around where it stopped, sending goose pimples to invade my skin. The other makes its way to the base of my neck before sliding into the locks of my hair. Grabbing a handful of hair, he holds firmly, and just as I inhale a deep breath he re-enters me, hard. Each thrust becomes faster and so desperate, it’s hard to catch my breath as I’m faced with sensations I’ve never known to exist.

  “Holy crap,” I moan as my knees begin to buckle. “I’m yours, Marcus.”

  He groans in ecstasy, which only heightens the intensity to the point I almost can’t stand it. With one last thrust, I collapse into a heap from a moment so orgasmic it forces tears to spill from my eyes.

  Panting, I manage to find my equilibrium once more, but the tears don’t stop. They keep flowing freely.

  Holy shit. Mike was never my first. It was Marcus.

  Hell Hath No Fury

  Standing at the bottom of the stairs, showered and redressed, my head whirls with the realisation that somehow, at one time, Marcus and I were a thing. But why can’t I remember? My legs quiver as if a boulder weighs heavily in the pit of my stomach. I need to get out of here.

  Stomping towards the front door, I cringe when I hear Marcus clear his throat.

  “I’m sorry, Abigail.”

  “What for, Marcus? Lying to me? Tricking me? Or both?” I spit with my back still turned.

  “Neither. I’m sorry for this.” As the words leave his lips, the front door bursts open and a face filled with fury appears.

  “Sammy.”

  “Get out of my way, Abigail,” she snaps, brushing past me. “Marcus fucking Klein, you complete arse, get down here now!” she screams at him from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Samantha.” His tone is controlled and calm. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “What the actual fuck?” My eyes dart from him to her in confusion.

  “Stay out of this, Abigail. I’d like to say likewise to Marcus, but I think you can tell I’m far from happy to see you. Nice touch with the driver and the sign on my arrival. You think you’re too clever, don’t you?”

  Marcus grins before taking each step until he reaches the bottom. “I heard Abi on the phone with you last night, so I knew you’d be coming. It wasn’t hard to figure out which flight.”

  “You were supposed to remain invisible, you prick, but here you stand. Well…how much does she or doesn’t she know?”

  “Calm down, Samantha,” Marcus commands, the two of them now standing face to face.

  “I won’t calm down. What the hell are you playing at? You promised.”

  “She found me.”

  “Fuck off she did.”

  He chuckles before his hands run through his hair. “She doesn’t know much. She has only had one real memory.”

  Sammy twirls on her heel until her eyes stare into mine. “Abigail, I’m sorry.” Her tone is racked with guilt.

  “You know why I can’t remember, don’t you?”

  Sammy nods.

  “And it’s obvious you two know each other well?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers before her eyes narrow with anger once more. Watching her red face and tense body fills me with a sense of panic. One of her heels stomps loudly against the floor as Marcus moves to stand beside me.

  “Get away from her. Abigail, get your stuff. We are going home now,” she shouts, warding Marcus off with eyes that threaten the delivery of fire filled laser beams.

  “Babe, stop.”

  Mosby.

  “I won’t stop, Jackson. I’m seething. Why, you arse, why?” she demands, her attention back on Marcus.

  He doesn’t answer. He just stands still.

  “You, me, privacy now,” she screeches.

  “Right this way,” Marcus replies with a sarcastic tone. His finger points in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Stay here, Abigail,” Sam
my scoffs.

  “Like fuck,” I reply.

  “Jackson, please.” Her eyes beg him to help, and he offers a nervous half smile in return.

  “Abigail, come on, just let them talk this out, okay?” When his hand reaches for mine, I grab hold with every ounce of strength I have left.

  “Mosby,” I murmur, trying to keep tears that threaten to fall under control. Before long we hear the slamming of a door I believe to be coming from the direction of the library, and then there’s quiet.

  “I can’t breathe,” is all I say before my legs give out and Jackson catches me.

  “Come on now,” he murmurs as he cradles me in his arms.

  Tears burst from my eyes, and I cry, hard. I fight desperately to stop the feeling of utter doom, but I can’t.

  “It’s going to be okay. It will all work out,” Mosby offers in comfort as he lowers me onto the lounge.

  “It won’t, Mosby. Apparently, I have no memory of a chunk of my life, and nobody will tell me what in the hell is going on.” I’m so breathless that I suck in noisy mouthfuls of air.

  “Come on now, Abs, just breathe. I’ll find you a tissue.”

  “Okay.” I snort, trying to clear my nose. Letting my head drop between my legs, I will my breathing to slow.

  Jackson returns and sits beside me, rubbing small circles on my back in an attempt to comfort me.

  “How about we get those tears to stop and we talk this through some, hey?”

  “Okay,” I cry out, opening an even larger floodgate inside my heart.

  I’m not sure how long I cry, but by the size of the pile of tissues gathering in my lap, I’d say it’s been a while. Jackson stays quiet the entire time, never resting his hand as he continues the small circles on my back.

  “They’re coming this way,” he whispers before handing me another tissue and standing to his feet.

  There’s no longer any anger between Marcus and Sammy, and as I turn my head and watch their approach, I notice that their faces mirror each other’s and they both look exhausted.

  “Take care of my girl.” Marcus’ tone sounds distant. “I’ll be back soon.”