The Right Direction

by Kathy Coopmans

  She moans, her lips part, and I’m an asshole for taking advantage when her head has to be bogged down with all of this. I no longer care about anything except the way she feels underneath me.

  I have every right to kiss her as far as I’m concerned. She needs to let her guard down just a bit in order for me crawl inside and push out some of the hurt stored up that she didn’t give me a chance to help with when she needed me the most. It might cause more damage at first. I no longer care about that, either. I only care about her.

  She doesn’t flinch when I snake my hand down her ribcage, bunch up her dress, and palm the bare skin of her ass. Suspected she was practically naked under here. Her ass was always an unquenched thirst I could never shake.

  “Roman, this is wrong,” she whimpers.

  “No, it’s right. You know it, and so do I.” I rotate my hips as I press into her and lean my forehead on hers. I squeeze her ass one last time then slide my hand to her face. My thumb begins caressing the softness of her cheek. I want to kiss her again. Devour her. I want to inhale her fucking body. Take over her mind. Claim her more than I did years ago.

  My voice is desperate when I tell her, “I know you never asked for any of this, Joslyn. I promise you, though, these people don’t care about anything but themselves. They thrive on this. They won’t give up until they either break you or have you losing control the way I did. I’ll lose my mind if you're not in my sight. If you go home, or even to work, they’ll hunt you down. Let me protect you, please?” Her eyelids flutter before she lets out a shaky breath and shakes her head.

  I force myself to move off her when all I want to do is pull down my jeans, slide the garment that’s covering her pussy aside, and slide her down on my cock.

  “I have clients who are relying on me. This is going to ruin my life. You just got divorced, Roman. They are going to blame me for that. I should have never agreed to this. Do you get it now, what this means for me? They are going to slaughter me; that’s what it means.” Her upset voice pushes on my igniter, setting off a torpedo that aims straight for my heart. Shards of pain are cutting me deep. The last damn thing I want her thinking is any part of me will ruin her. Son of a bitch.

  I wait in stunned silence for her to sit up, right herself, and smooth down her dress. She goes right back to staring out the window, moving further away than she was before.

  I want her with me the same as I did when I moved out here. The same as I did when she miscarried. I didn’t force her then when I should have, but I’m sure as fuck forcing her now.

  Fuck Hollywood. I know the truth, and so does she.

  Chapter 4

  Joslyn

  How dare he trap me this way. I’m not something he can covet and possess in an attempt to make up for what we lost.

  “Kidnapping is a felony. Unlike earlier, I don’t think you’d get off as easily. You would not want me on the opposite side of you, trust me. I believe you’ve underestimated the kind of woman I am, Roman. I’m far from scared of what they can say about me. It’s just… God, this is frustrating. I have nothing to hide. It’s the stories they could make up about us. They could twist what we shared into whatever they want. Harass my secretary. Drag my friends Caroline and Chad through the mud and ruin everything they’ve all worked for.” Especially Chad. He does not need this in his life. The man has been through enough with his own divorce.

  I wish I could turn and look at him. To gauge his reaction to what I’m trying to make him understand. Except, every time I stare into his eyes, I want to melt right into his arms the way I used to.

  I’m afraid if I do, the stimulated places that are smoldering already will surpass my ability to contain them. I haven’t been touched in a long time, and truth be told, the few men who came after Roman didn’t make my body go up in a cloud of smoke by simply touching me.

  My lips are on fire. My core is flaming, and my breasts want to be free from the confines of my bra. My sexual senses are stirred enough that I’m all too aware of the chemistry between us smoldering more powerfully than before. One kiss, one touch, and one grind of those hips I used to watch move when he performed have me more frustrated than him bossing me around.

  Roman being back in my life at any point is going to have me weakening and sleeping with him, regardless if I’m isolated with him or not. I just can’t do it without talking things out with him first. I have no idea where his heart lies or how he feels about his divorce. I mean, I’ve heard all the rumors. Seen the tabloids with their speculations. But neither he nor she have spoken about it. Especially him. He’s like a vault that no one can open. All of these reasons are why we shouldn’t be sequestered in his home. And let's not forget it’s a home he shared with her. A woman who wasn’t me.

  “You’re right. They probably will. If you and this Chad guy have nothing to hide, and if he cares about you as much as you obviously do him, then he’ll be fine. So will everyone else you care about. The same as you will be. Stories like this change on a dime, Joslyn. They come and go the same way these scavengers will. Surely you knew what you were getting into when you decided to help me?” I’m sure they do. Until then, I’d like a moment to myself to prepare.

  I see right through him, too. He is egging me on to tell him about Chad and me. If I weren’t so damn mad at those idiots back there, I would double over in laughter at his childish behavior.

  “Yes, I did know. I just didn’t think I would get blasted about my past inside a place that’s like my second home. And what do you mean by stories like this? I’ve never gotten over our story, Roman. I hurt every day over what we lost. Not just the baby but each other. I… I made the worst mistake of my life when I deserted you. One day, I hated you for what you said, the next I hated me for not stopping to think about how shocked you were to hear I was pregnant and then for me to turn around and tell you what happened. I’m pissed off they meddled in our business the way they did. You're used to them poking around. We aren’t. Caroline, she’s my best friend, Chad is my fifty-one-year-old boss, and Travis, my secretary, mean everything to me. I love them all as if they were my family. I can’t lose them over this,” I exclaim. Panic floods my voice. Fear of the unknown slides into my veins just waiting to filter through my bloodstream, and yet like the coward I was back then, and the coward I portrayed perfectly in the courtroom, I still can’t look him square in the eye. Such a shame for a woman who appears to be strong.

  “You love them. Good to know. Fuck me pretty much, then, right? You show up to help me out, walk away, and all hell breaks loose, and I’m just supposed to let you go on with your life and forget that our someday might be upon us. Fat fucking chance, sweetheart. Our story stopped abruptly in the middle. We have a chance to finish it together. I don’t give a fuck about the media. They won’t hurt you or your friends unless you let them. Trust me when I say that they will walk away the minute the next big story breaks out. That's how they work. What happened to you today was a fluke. That shit doesn’t happen, Joslyn, ever. We are talking, and that’s how it’s going to be. You better be getting me now, or do I have to strip you down and blister your behind? I’m about two seconds from doing it. My hand is flared up and ready to go.” I’m sure it is, you bossy man. I’m also quite sure I’d love it, too.

  My head whips around to glare at him so fast I’m surprised it’s not snapping in half. “That is not fair. You had to bring someday into this, didn’t you? If what happened today doesn’t ever happen, then why did it happen, huh? I’ll tell you why. It’s because you're you and they got wind of me. I couldn’t care less what they say about anything, except for what you and I shared. It’s sacred to me, Roman. You need to listen to me. I don’t know who you are anymore. Your head has to be messed up over getting a divorce, and who knows where your heart is. Oh, and let’s not forget the obvious here. I wasn’t that hard for you to find. If you’d wanted me, you would have found me. I would have done the same. We both screwed up. But it’s over. It has been for a long time. Would I h
ave eventually given in to stop watching you on television and eventually come to you? I wanted to, so many times. Then you got married. Those are the things I think we should talk about. I get you want to protect me, but you have to let me make a choice on how. We’ve barreled into each other’s lives like a freight train, and God, Roman, if you take anything away from what I’m saying, please take that when I saw you behind those bars, I wanted to demand they let you out so I could jump into your arms. Now, though, your hasty overprotectiveness and this sudden want to fuck me isn’t the way to go about it. I think it’s best if we both simmer down. Enough has been said and done for the day.” I draw in a shaky, winded breath when I’m done. It physically hurts to lay my heart on the line. And the pain is not from the words tumbling out of my mouth; it’s from hearing them.

  Chapter 5

  Joslyn

  Roman hisses and starts rapping his fingers on the seat next to me. I’ve hurt him when I didn’t mean to. His glare is burning through my skin, and it’s scorching me until I can barely breathe. While my brain, she’s doesn’t know what to think or do. Should she press the engine to the floor and plow right through the barriers I’ve protected my heart with or idle in neutral and wait this out? One thing’s for sure; I made a promise to myself after a relationship I had a few years ago that I would never make choices that will hurt me or anyone else when I’m not in the right state of mind. Why can’t I ever get my life to steer in the right direction? I’m so upset right now over everything that my head is ready to explode.

  “You seem to have it all figured out, don’t you? I’m not messed up over my divorce. I wanted it. My ex-wife isn’t the woman I thought she was. My divorce doesn’t have a thing to do with me and you or what happened in there today. What we shared goes bone deep, Joslyn. There isn’t a person out there who can scrape away our memories.” He may as well have struck me with that first and last sentence. If he only knew how wrong and right he is. I have nothing figured out. He most definitely lives inside of me; and that right there is the problem. His divorce and how he feels about her is on him; or me if I stop to think he wouldn’t have married her in the first place if I hadn’t left him in the dust.

  I choose to ignore what he said about him and me for the time being and carry on with trying to reason with him. “Roman, I need time to adjust to this. I can take whatever they have to say if I’m prepared for it. I just… I need to calm down. To soak this all in. They’ve brought up something I ran away from. Something that hurts us both deeply. It’s been years, and I’ve never been able to forgive myself for giving up on our someday. I’m still raw over what happened and the way I went about it. So, forgive me, please, if I’m not okay with any of this.” He’s right about his divorce, too. I need to stop using it as a crutch to deny how this is all shaking me up.

  I sigh when he doesn’t acknowledge me. I can feel his heat rolling off him in angry, silent waves. I get this is a lot for him, too. I showed up out of the blue, shocked the hell out of him, and then he’ll plowed us both over.

  Truthfully, the media doesn’t scare me at all. They can say whatever they want. As long as they leave the people I care about alone, they can talk all they want.

  I turn my head just as I hear him shift in his spot. The suffocating quiet is enough to drive me deeper insane than I feel I am, but I need it, if only for a few moments to get my head on straight.

  It’s quite obvious as I gaze out the window we're not heading to my apartment. I sigh and train my thoughts on the houses that seem to get larger with each one we pass. These homes are ridiculously huge. I don’t believe a single family can use up all the space inside. I suppose I could compare them to how much I have stored in my mind. Each little nook and cranny has its own category. They all serve a purpose. Depending on my mood, I can decide which one I want to enter, walk right back out of if I want to, but I can never escape what’s stored inside of me. Not like you can a room. As he said, bone deep. It’s remarkable how tightly rooted we are to each other.

  The car slowly crawls up a winding road, gradually coming to a stop in front of a tastefully decorated gray stucco home surrounded by nature’s beauty. Trees and colorful flowers are everywhere. I pause before exiting and drop my jaw on the asphalt as I round the car and follow behind him.

  “This is amazing, Roman,” I utter breathlessly.

  “It’s alright. Love the house. Hate the fucking town and most of the people in it,” he mumbles agitatedly. I stand behind him while he punches in a code and uses a set of keys to unlock the door. He pushes open the door and steps aside to allow me in.

  I jump when he slams the door behind us. My mind is on a shift of mental overload. Why he is angry with me when I should clearly be the one pissed at our current situation does nothing but fluster me more. Men, I swear at times they are only good for one thing, and most aren’t even good for that. Unless the man in question is the man you’ve loved as long as you can remember.

  I take a deep breath. Shake those thoughts out of my head and rub my aching temples waiting for him to make a move. He pushes past me then abruptly stops and stands with his back to me for the longest time.

  I watch his shoulders rise and fall. Sadness fills my heart with a heavy, sluggish weight.

  We had hopes and dreams. Planned a future together. I let the seeds die before giving them a chance to take root and grow.

  My feet are killing me, so I slip off my shoes and shove them along with my briefcase to the side of the light-colored hardwood floor where we stand. Roman starts walking. I feel foolish standing here gaping at his home. I start to follow him down the hallway leading to the back of the house. My eyes taking it all in.

  I pause briefly to peek into the living room. It’s been carefully done in deep green hues, overstuffed worn leather couches, a bar that runs the entire length of one wall, windows opening up to a pool, and a massive television is mounted on the wall. It’s clean yet homey. Refreshing and nothing at all what I would have expected out of his ex-wife. It’s all Roman. A modern-day bachelor pad in need of a woman’s touch.

  Stereotypically speaking, a house like this is filled with rich items, an exhibition of wealth for the owners’ guests. I would have suspected it to be that way by the manner in which Gwen paraded around in her designer clothes, jewelry, and cars. A woman who even I noticed loved to be the center of attention. I can’t stand the nasty skank. It’s because of her big fat mouth this has been one hell of a rough day.

  I suppose when it’s all said and done, I should thank her. If it weren’t for her divulging information, I might not have strummed up the courage to ever see Roman. Even though it feels as if I’m paddling against a heavy flow of freezing cold water right now, I wouldn’t give up seeing him for anything now that I have.

  “For the record, Joslyn, it’s good to see you, too.” I close my eyes, letting his words and the sound of his voice sink right into my bones.

  When I open them, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. I pause, nearly falling on the slippery wood when what I see nearly stops my heart from beating. Roman continues on as if he doesn’t care he has a guest anymore. His mood is obviously as somber as mine. He went from wanting to fuck me in the back of the car to nothing at all. I probably would have let him if he had kept going. I’m still aching all over from his touch.

  I should feel awful for blowing up at him when what’s clearly visible in front of me shows me the man I once knew is still the same. I can’t believe he got his hands on our most prized childhood possession. I’m shattering. Tiny little fragments of a devastating loss. I don’t want to move a muscle.

  I gaze through the window of what appears to be his office in some sort of shocking awe. What I’m seeing is caressing my skin like a warm summer breeze. It soothes my soul in its attempt to smooth away my jaded thoughts. But it doesn’t. What it does do is send fear shooting out of my veins and hitting my bloodstream in a rapid rush.

  “Roman, what have you done?” I whisper. Tears fal
l down my face. My heart is caught in eagerness to see it up close for myself, but my feet keep me grounded for what feels like forever until strong arms startle me by sweeping me off my feet. I begin trembling as I try to breathe in enough air to allow my cries to escape.

  Emotions stir inside of me. They always did whenever a frantic mingling of memories would whirl into my thoughts. I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Thrown back in time to where nothing mattered but him and me. How I wish it all were true.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, and I cry. I sob as if the sheer force of my wrongdoings could be undone. As if every tear I shed wilts away the hardships I’ve carried on my shoulders for the longest time.

  “Stop, sweetheart. It’s been an emotional twenty-four hours or so for you. I should have closed the door and showed you this another time. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Once again, I’m sorry.” I want to tell him these are the happiest tears I’ve shed since the day I found out I was pregnant. I just can’t get the words to come out. My sobs paralyze my thoughts and bring on a tremendous amount of unbridled fear when all I really want to do is breathe him in.

  I can feel the sun hit my back and the breeze blow my hair when he walks us through a door. The throbbing of my aching eyes rings in my ears as I open them to adjust to the sunlight. When Roman sets me down, my head follows the path to my feet. The dread of what I’ll see if I look at him, if I look at what he’s done, has me afraid my heart will slam so hard against my chest that it will tumble me over and crash me down with a heavy, aching clatter.