by T. K. Leigh
My confession hung between us, my heart racing at what I’d just admitted.
“Because he has the power to destroy me in a way I’ll never recover from.”
How could I say that? How could I admit my feelings for Drew so freely? Sure, I didn’t come right out and admit I was talking about him, but he had to know. Would he use this information to hurt me all over again? Was this all just part of whatever sadistic game he liked to play with my heart?
Before I could say anything to dampen the impact, Drew’s strong hands cupped my cheeks, his eyes filled with sincerity. He pressed his lips to mine, causing my entire body to momentarily stiffen. I’d dreamt about his kiss since that summer ten years ago. I never thought I’d have the opportunity again, not after watching him date woman after woman, then come home and announce he’d married a hockey groupie he barely knew. Now, I finally had another taste, but for how long? Was this going to be just like last time? Would he avoid me for months, years, then pretend it never happened?
“Kiss me, Brooklyn,” he whispered against my lips when I remained unmoving. “I’m so sorry about everything. How I...” He trailed off. His fingers grazed over my face, a stomach-clenching shiver rolling through me. “Please. Help me feel again.” The raw emotion and vulnerability in those words cut me in two. It was so different from the cocky, self-assured man he’d turned into these past few years.
“Oh, Drew…,” I exhaled, pressing my lips against his, our kiss warm, tender. I thought he was a good kisser all those years ago, but he was even better now, the way his tongue tangled with mine making it so I never wanted to be apart from him again.
I no longer obsessed about the possibility that this would be a repeat of ten years ago. That I’d give him my heart, only for him to shatter it. All I cared about was this moment, of enjoying everything Drew was willing to give me, regardless of how fleeting it may be.
Deepening the kiss, I ran my fingers through his hair. It was the off-season, so he kept it relatively short, the usual facial hair he sported during the hockey season replaced with a bit of two-day stubble. It was rough against my skin, but in a way that made me burn for him even more.
I hooked my legs around his waist, moving my hips with the rhythm he set as he kissed me so reverently, like he needed my lips on his to breathe, like he’d hungered for me for years, like his heart was made just to love me. In that moment, lost in the sensation of his mouth on mine, his body on mine, his fingers interlocking with mine, keeping my arms secured above my head, I felt it was.
“Brooklyn…,” he moaned, moving from my mouth, down my jawline, nipping on my neck.
“Yes,” I breathed, lightheaded, dizzy, the room seeming to spin around me, despite only having consumed one beer the entire evening. I was drunk on the man on top of me, thirsty for more of his intoxicating kisses.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve thought about this moment? About how you would feel, how you would taste, how your body would respond to mine?”
I quivered, my core tightening, my soul singing.
“It’s been so long,” he continued, his tongue drawing a lazy line along my collarbone. “I’ve tried to stay away, do the right thing, fulfill the promise I made.”
His fingers found the hem of my t-shirt and raised it slightly, exposing my stomach. I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but as he slithered down my body, a hunger I hadn’t experienced in years swallowed my words. I tried to keep my breathing and heart rate under control. It was damn near impossible, especially when he reached my belly button and glanced up, meeting my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Brooklyn.”
He brought his mouth to my stomach, his kiss tender against my skin. Wanting to imprint everything about this to memory, I closed my eyes, focusing on his lips exploring my body. They were smooth, supple, unyielding.
“For too many years, I’ve imagined how your skin would feel, would taste. How your cheeks would blush with a desire you couldn’t hide. Because I know you, Brooklyn...”
My eyes opened, meeting his that were dark with a wanton desire. He carefully lifted my shirt even more, exposing the bottom of my breasts. Every inch of me tightened in anticipation as his tongue unhurriedly made its way north.
“As much as you’ve tried to hide it, as much as you’ve tried to deny it, you can’t. Not anymore. You want me. You never got over me. Just like I never got over you.”
He raised my t-shirt the final few inches, exposing my alert nipples. Pausing, he leaned back, staring at me, not saying a word. My breaths filled the room, the only other sound that of an occasional barking dog in the neighborhood where we grew up. The pounding of my heart seemed to echo against my eardrums, the intensity of Drew’s gaze unhinging me.
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, never feeling so vulnerable and exposed as I did at that moment. I wasn’t fooling myself. I’d seen the women Drew had dated. While I had an ample chest, it was nothing compared to what he was used to.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he crooned lazily, the effects of the alcohol obvious. He brought his forefinger and thumb to one of my nipples and tugged.
Sparks shot through me, a carnal need for his teeth to do the same thing filling me. I arched my back off the bed, having trouble making sense of these unique sensations overwhelming me. I’d been intimate in the past, but they were all boys. Drew was a man. The only man I wanted.
“I’m a fool for hurting you, for not saying fuck it and giving you my heart.” He lowered his mouth to my breast, his motions warm, reverent, loving, at complete odds with the fiery desire in his eyes. “I’m a fool for not making you mine a long time ago.”
I moaned, needing more. More of his words, more of his touch, desperate to experience every inch of him. It was the only way I’d know I wasn’t dreaming, because this was all so surreal.
“God, you taste better than I imagined. And I’ve certainly imagined.” He lightly pulled on my nipple with his teeth. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. The fire that had been burning for him the past few years…hell, decades…was growing out of control, washing over me, desire turning into uncontrollable desperation.
“Drew, please,” I begged, my hips thrusting against him. My brain no longer catalogued all the reasons this was a bad idea. The only thing I cared about was feeling Drew on top of me, his lips scorching my skin, our bodies joining so I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.
“Say you need me.” He lifted his eyes to mine, a vulnerability in his gaze.
“I need you, Drew,” I breathed. “I’ve always needed you.”
“I’ve always needed you, Brooklyn.” He returned to me, his mouth poised on mine. His warmth tickled my lips, my nerves standing on end as I braced for his kiss.
He ran a light finger down my face, a chill trickling through me. The anticipation was killing me. If I didn’t feel his lips on mine, didn’t lose myself in him soon, I feared I’d perish.
Finally, he pressed his mouth back to mine, his tongue exploring me once more, as if discovering something new with each kiss. One hand digging into my hair, his other journeyed a torturous trail down my body before landing on my hip. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my core clenching at the heat of him between my thighs. Then he slid his hand along my hip bone and between our two bodies. With incredible expertise, it disappeared into the leg of my sleep shorts. I loosened my grip around him. He leisurely lifted the line of my panties, a moan escaping my throat when his fingers neared that spot I wanted them, that spot I’d only dreamed he’d touch ever since I’d developed hormones.
“Drew,” I begged again, my heart racing, my chest heaving, my brain fuzzy. “Please. I need you.”
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to hear those words come out of your mouth,” he murmured against my lips, kissing me at the same time his finger landed on my center, both of us moaning. “Damn.” He pulled back slightly, his fingers spreading my slickness all over me. I’d never been this turned on, this rea
dy to fall apart in a matter of seconds. “You’re so wet.”
I bit my bottom lip, gripping the sheets in my fists as my body climbed higher and higher. My breathing grew labored as I did everything to think of something other than how perfect, how right, how fucking wonderful it was to have Drew’s hand between my legs.
“More,” I murmured in a throaty voice, then flung my eyes open. I reached for his neck, urging his lips back to mine. “I need more of you. I need you inside me.”
He groaned, slipping a finger inside me, massaging me. “And I’d love nothing more than to be inside you, Brooklyn. You have no idea how much I’ve fantasized about this, imagined the look on your face as I make you come over and over again until you beg me to stop because you can’t take anymore.”
I moaned louder, every muscle in my body clenching as I loomed closer to the peak.
“But I want to be sober the first time I’m inside you...” He licked his lips. “You deserve to have all of me the first time I make love to you. Because this isn’t just sex. It would never just be sex with you. So tonight, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Tomorrow, when I wake up with you in my arms, I plan on making love to you, Brooklyn. Because I love you. I always have.”
“God, baby. You are incredible.” Wes’ voice snaps me back to the present, reminding me Drew isn’t here, that I made a conscious decision not to be with him.
“Harder,” I beg, praying the deeper Wes thrusts into me, the more I’ll want him. But it only reminds me of Drew. Of the way his arms enveloped me as we slept together that night. Of the way his eyes looked upon me as if I were the only person he saw. Of the way his breath mixed with mine in the most tantalizing of ways. Of the way he made me drop my guard and love him all over again.
True, deep, passionate love.
Consuming, hypnotic, unparalleled love.
Painful, tragic, unrequited love.
Ignorant of my fantasies about another man, Wes’ breathing grows more uneven, his hold on me tightening, and I know he’s close to unraveling. So I moan louder, making him think I’m about to lose all control.
“That’s right.” He drives harder and harder, frantic and unbalanced. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this.”
“I’m close,” I lie, wanting this to be over. Wanting to crawl into a corner and never come out again. Wanting to run away and start over where nobody knows who I am, nobody knows what I’ve done, nobody knows how ugly and black my soul is.
He reaches around, finding my center, his motions harsh and relentless, a complete one-eighty from the soulful and fulfilling experience when Drew gave me several of the most earth-shattering orgasms of my life. But I make Wes think I like it, my moans and pants coming quicker, faster, more intense, crying out as I pretend to come undone around him so he’ll stop touching me. That’s all it takes. He grunts, pumping a few more times as he finds his release.
I remain still, turning my head to stare out the windows, ashamed, like I just cheated on Wes by thinking of someone else during sex. Am I a horrible person because of that? Don’t people fantasize about other things during sex all the time? Isn’t that all sex is? Just one big fantasy?
“You drive me fucking crazy.” Wes leans down, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder blade as he slides out of me.
I go to push myself up and he helps me, my muscles sore and shaky. I avoid his eyes, not wanting him to see the truth within.
“Hey.” His voice is sweet. He lifts my chin, forcing my gaze to his. A small smile pulls on his lips. “Thank you.”
I furrow my brow. “For what? Letting you fuck me?”
His expression lightens briefly. “Well, as incredible as it was, that’s not what I mean. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to marry me.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?” I reply, but my words seem more like an argument I’m making to myself. “You’re caring, compassionate, loving. And you love me.” I place my hand on his cheek. “Out of all the women you could be with, you chose me. I’m the one who should thank you.”
“I don’t want a single day to go by that I don’t tell you how much I appreciate you. I know things have been crazy lately and we’ve both been busy. I promise I’ll never take you for granted. I love you, Brooklyn.” He presses his lips to mine, his kiss gentle, a stark contrast to the way he just screwed me.
If I felt ashamed for fantasizing about another man while having sex with Wes before, that’s nothing compared to the guilt I feel as his heartfelt words wrap around me. He’ll never treat me with anything but the utmost respect and adoration, never take me for granted.
Why am I so willing to throw it all away for a man who will?
Chapter 2
Drew
This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare. I’ll soon wake up to the sound of two small voices giggling as I pretend to sleep, just as we do every morning. But we already did that today. Then I walked them to school, just like every other weekday, and was about to leave for work when my entire world crumbled beneath me.
My stomach churns, my chest tightens, my lungs constrict, a fear unlike any I’ve faced in my life coursing through me, leaving me anxious, panicked, on edge. I didn’t know what else to do, so I hopped on the vintage Triumph motorcycle my dad left me and took off to see the one person I need, the one person who can hold me together when I’m minutes away from unraveling. I promised to give her space, but I can’t. Not now. Not after opening the envelope the process server handed me less than an hour ago.
“Can I help you?” a short blonde asks as I continue past the reception area of the cramped office building.
When I don’t acknowledge her, she jumps up and chases after me. I’d like to see someone try to stop me today. I’ve never been so filled with rage, so ready to break down and scream.
“Sir, please! You can’t come in here unless you have an appointment!”
I storm down the narrow corridor past rows of cubicles and tiny offices, then round the corner, halting in the doorway of Brooklyn’s office. I could have found my way here blindfolded, her familiar aroma of lavender flowing from the room.
She shoots to her feet when she sees me, blinking repeatedly, her eyes darting from me to the receptionist and back again, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Drew?”
“I’m sorry. I tried to stop him,” the receptionist apologizes. “I can call security.”
“Please...,” I manage to say through the lump in my throat, my anger turning back to despair, to desperation.
Brooklyn’s gaze narrows on me as she surveys my disheveled appearance. My eyes are red and full of worry, distress covering every inch of me. My expression is slack as I plead with her to help. This woman has seen me at my highest of highs and lowest of lows. But I doubt she’s ever seen me so distraught, so out of sorts. She can’t refuse me. It’s not in her nature to turn away someone in need, regardless of how much I’ve hurt her.
When she remains silent, seemingly still uncertain about the reason for my presence, I throw the papers in my hand onto the desk in front of her. “I need you,” I beg, my tone shaky.
She studies me with curiosity, then looks down at the papers, instantly flinging her shocked gaze back to mine once she reads the caption. The same questions I had when I received this earlier are written in the lines of her face.
Her jaw grows slack as she shakes her head, struggling to say something. I know exactly what she’s going through. I was there an hour ago. Hell, I’m still there.
In an instant, she flips the switch and becomes the social worker I know her to be, spine straight, composing herself. “Natalie...” She returns her attention to the blonde. “There’s no need to call security.” She looks back at me, a peaceful air about her. Right now, I need to feel her soothing presence. It’s the only thing giving me hope. “Drew’s a friend who needs my help.”
“Of course.” With a smile, Natalie starts to close the door when Brooklyn calls out to her once more.
“And plea
se rearrange my schedule for today. I won’t be able to make any of my appointments. Do what you can to reschedule them for later in the week, even if it means after hours.”
Natalie shifts her eyes to me, then back to Brooklyn, curious. “I’ll update your calendar.” She closes the door behind her.
“A complaint for custody?” Brooklyn presses once we’re alone. Her expression is long, a slight tremble in her chin as she swallows hard.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, the ache in my throat becoming more painful. Hearing those words validates it, reminds me I’m not dreaming, that this is my reality. My crazy ex is trying to take my girls from me. And that’s not even the worst of it.
“What am I going to do?” I tug at my hair, pacing, unable to hide my emotions any longer. It’s a miracle I made it all the way here in one piece when everything around me seems to be spinning out of control. How am I going to pick up Alyssa and Charlotte from school today and pretend everything is okay? How am I going to smile, laugh, and play with them without my heart breaking over the idea I might lose them?
“It’ll be okay, Drew.” Brooklyn’s voice is strong, assertive, a complete one-eighty from the sorrow filling me. “We’ll fight this. You took care of those girls after she abandoned all of you. There’s no way you’ll lose custody. If worse comes to worse, you may have to share custody.”
I fall into a chair, burying my head in my hands. “What about Charlotte?” I slowly lift my glassy eyes to hers, my stare distant and empty, a vice squeezing my heart.
“What about her?” Her tone is cautious, as if she doesn’t want to hear the answer.
With a defeated sigh, I sit forward and shakily point to the second paragraph of the pleading. Brooklyn’s hesitant but eventually lowers herself to her chair, scanning the paper. After a few seconds, she sucks in a quick breath. Her gaze shoots back to me, her chin quivering, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Words seeming to escape her as she processes what she just learned, what I just learned, she silently pleads with me for an explanation. I wish I had one.
