unForgivable (An inCapable World Novel Book 2)

by Sara Hubbard

  “There are a lot of ways to deal with this—healthier ways.”

  “Like what? Tell me, because I can’t think of a single one.”

  “Focus on what you still have. What’s right in front of you.”

  Right in front of me? Like Damien? How easy would it be to forget all the noise in my life? To let myself have a moment’s peace? I need it more than I need to breathe right now, because the tension inside me has my stomach in knots and my muscles sore.

  I reach out and take his hand while staring into his eyes. He stills and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I stand and release his fingers, letting mine trail along his forearm as I walk away. I can feel his eyes on my back and the delicate space between my legs starts to burn and my nerve endings flutter. I grab the hem of my sweater and pull it up and over my head, tossing it on the roof. Shyly, I look over my shoulder to watch him push out of his seat and adjust himself before stalking toward me as if he’s about to pounce. It gets me hot, makes my breasts swell and my pulse race. His hooded eyes connect with mine and I can see his desire as he licks his lips. My muscles clench, anticipating his touch.

  What will it feel like to have someone like him drive deep inside of me? Someone who sees me as more than a quick fuck? When I reach the grass, I bend over and slowly slide my pants down over my legs. His hands caress my curves as I straighten and step out of my pants, kicking them aside. His breath is in my ear, his now-bare chest pressing at my back. The small patch of his chest hairs tickles me and makes me shiver.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to touch you like this.” With the back of his hand, he marks a path from the side of my chest to my waist. I let out a quiet moan and lean my head back to rest on his shoulder.

  He unclasps my bra and his hands palm my breasts, squeezing them to hit the delicious point between pleasure and pain. And if he wasn’t getting me hot enough, he slowly moves his left hand over my stomach to dip under my panties and slide between my lips. “Shh,” he says, his voice almost a purr, and I bite my lip to hold back my moans. I’ve never come without penetration before, but with Damien I’m hopeful. Other men I’ve been intimate with are all about me touching them and pleasuring them, but he’s focusing on me.

  He’s unselfish. Sensual.

  His breath is in my ear and his nose is against my cheek and I raise a hand to cradle the side of his face. He kisses my hand and I lean my head back and sigh.

  “What are you doing to me?” he asks, now planting soft kisses on my shoulder. “As if I didn’t want you enough.”

  “You said to focus on what’s in front of me.” My voice is quiet and breathless. “And I don’t want to feel or think about how messy things are right now.”

  His fingers move slowly, circling my clitoris and my slick entrance. With his other hand he grips my hip and pulls me back against him so his swollen cock is between my cheeks. I brace against him, moving just enough to force him to whisper my name. He pants and pushes harder while his fingers continue to work me. I imagined he’d be big and thick and he’s certainly delivering. I’m going to be sore in the morning—sated but sore.

  “Damien,” I breathe.

  He slides a finger inside of me and then another. He moves them in and out with ease. His fingers are electric. They send waves of sensations from between my legs to spread through the rest of my body. Every inch of me wants him—all of him. I beg him to work faster, to plunge deeper. I beg for release, but he won’t give it to me. And when I utter the word, “please,” he stops and firmly says, “no.”

  I almost come right there. Getting me hot isn’t enough, he wants to give me all he has, and perhaps more still.

  “Not yet,” he whispers.

  He pulls his hand away and I spin around, unzipping his pants. His cock springs out and I wrap my hand around it, teasing him the same way he teased me, stopping just short of his release.

  I lower myself to the grass, the cool blades pressing into my back. He lowers himself but I crawl away on my behind, trying to tease him and make him want me more. He clutches my ankle and yanks me forward, crawling on top of me to fist my panties and rip them free of my body in one swift motion. I swear I almost orgasm right there and I cry out into the night, my sounds echoing off the brick buildings.

  He covers me with his warm body and I expect him to take me then, to drive into me hard and fast and collapse when it’s over, but he doesn’t do that. No…he does something I’m not used to and something I’m not prepared for. He smoothes my hair out of my face and looks deep into my eyes as he smiles at me. “You’re so beautiful,” he says and I avert my eyes. I’ve been told this before but never in this exact way…like he’s admiring me for something much deeper than my looks. It makes me blush.

  “No, don’t,” he says, forcing me to look back into his eyes. “Stay with me.”

  He rolls on a condom before pushing inside of me. I wrap my legs around his middle and pull him close. He pulls out, almost to the tip and pushes in again…slow and steady and it’s so intense I explode in his arms. Over and over, slower and slower, like he’s savoring every minute. It’s like…he’s making love to me as he presses sweet kisses to my nose and to my forehead and cheeks.

  I’ve never been made love to before. Fucked? Always. But made love to? Never. I don’t even know what to do with myself. Because sex with Damien is different. It’s not about rushing and getting off; it’s deeper because every touch feels personal. Like his body is speaking to mine.

  “Damien,” I whisper. “I…don’t…”

  “Shh,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “It’s okay to be scared.”

  I swallow a hard lump in my throat. He sees me. Totally sees me and it’s the single most amazing experience I’ve ever felt. Not because of the sex—which is amazing—but because I’ve never had this level of closeness with anyone.

  “You don’t understand,” I say.

  “Then you’ll tell me, but not now. Right now I just need to be inside of you.”

  Sighing, I nod and he pulls me in tight.

  Damien lays on the grass naked with his arm outstretched, my head on his bicep. He snatched a blanket off the hammock to keep us warm, but next to his body, I’m anything but cold.

  “That was…”

  “Yeah…” he says.

  We sigh in unison and then chuckle together. Sex with Damien was nothing short of all-consuming. The way he touched me, looked at me, savored me…it was as if I was the only person on the planet, like the rest of the world fell away into nothingness. For as long as it lasted, I was able to forget about Mona and Mickey and just breathe.

  He reaches over with his free hand and caresses my stomach and I close my eyes and enjoy his touch. Even with calloused hands, it’s delicate and soft, like he might break me.

  “We should go and check on Mickey,” I say.

  “Soon. I’m not certain I can move right now. My whole body feels like Jell-O.”

  His cheeks are still flushed and he has a glaze over his eyes that comes with the euphoria of satisfying sex. I can only imagine my eyes look the exact same and it makes me smile. Then it hits me. I’m developing a little bit of a crush. And it scares the living shit out of me. All my life I wanted something to feel like this—to feel right. But the timing is all wrong. It couldn’t be worse. My life might be in danger and his, too, if I continue to let him help us.

  He knows the risks and he doesn’t care, but I do. More than I’d like to.

  And what if this is it? What if the reality of me doesn’t compete with the fantasy?

  “Where are you?” he asks, leaning up and onto his elbow.

  “I’m here. I’m just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “About…I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking this was nice. But…”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” he says.

  “Damien.”

  “Look, I know things are complicated right now. We don’t need a label or to talk about
our feelings.”

  I tuck my hair behind my ears and bite my lip. Stay. Run away. Tell him how I feel. I don’t even know how to navigate myself with him because I haven’t felt this way toward anyone else. My feelings are raw but they’re new and they’re fragile. The trust I’ve managed to give him extends to my safety and Mickey’s. But trusting him with my heart? Well, that’s something else entirely and it’s too soon for me to know if I can give him that as well.

  “Does anything scare you?” I ask, looking at him from my peripheral.

  He laughs. “I’m not afraid of guns or bombs or men twice my size. I’ve seen death on a daily basis and some of it was horrific. I’ve no phobias. And I have dreams sometimes that jar me awake screaming. But I ain’t afraid of any of that. Now you?” He nods. “You frighten me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve wanted you since I had my first wet dream—which coincidentally might have involved you in a pair of Daisy Dukes.”

  I grin at him.

  “Now I’ve had you I’m not sure one night will be enough.”

  “Your timing stinks.”

  “It always has.”

  “Jimmy wants Mickey dead and I can’t know if Jimmy’s anger extends to me, but if it does, that means being near me is going to put you in whole lot of trouble.”

  “I suspect Jimmy wants Mickey out of the picture because he’s afraid of what he’ll do. I’ve heard rumors about Mickey and he’s not someone you want to make an enemy of. But you? I don’t know if anyone could see you as a threat.”

  “Maybe I could talk to him and get him to see reason,” I say.

  “I’m not sure that’ll change anything. Mickey’s a liability. With these people, a potential threat is enough to act upon, whether he’s injured or not.”

  “So there are only two ways this plays out,” I say. “Mickey gets better and takes his revenge and we both end up dead one way or another…or Mickey leaves and I go with him.”

  “You’d go with him?” Damien asks with a raised brow.

  “How could I let him go alone?”

  “Hmm.”

  “And this…” I wave back and forth between us. “Whatever this is?” I sigh.

  “Bad timing?” he says, quoting me.

  “Yeah.” I lean over and peck him on the cheek and when I pull away, his hands grip my face. He pulls me back in for a long, lingering kiss. His tongue dances with mine and my eyes roll back as I melt into him. Oh, God. Why does he have to make me feel like this? Why does he have to be so understanding? And why is he making me want him now, when everything is falling apart?

  Chapter Eight

  Damien holds out his hand as I crawl back in through the window. Taking it, I hop over the sill, but lose my footing and stumble. His arms encircle my waist, saving me from falling on my face. He leans in, close to me, and gives me an intense look that reminds me how amazing it felt to have him touch me and how amazing it would be to let him have me again.

  “I’ll help you figure this out,” he says. His look…oh God…that look…there it is again. And the sincerity in it makes it hard for me to doubt him. But doubting him isn’t the problem right now. Figuring out how to unfuck my life and Mickey’s is.

  I nod in agreement, unable to do anything else, because my only other option is to push him down and wrap my legs around him again.

  The sound of a throat clearing startles me.

  I almost jump out of my skin. Damien and I turn our heads in unison to spy Carrie at the bedroom door. She raises her eyebrows at us while folding her arms across her chest and flashing me a shit-eating grin.

  “Don’t say a word,” I say quietly.

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure I know what to say.”

  “I really need to get a better lock,” Damien says with a groan.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I say to Carrie as I brush by her. She follows me down the hall and into Mickey’s room. After I take a seat on the bed beside him, I touch his forehead to see if he’s warm. He is, but not terribly so. It concerns me to find him still slick with sweat.

  “So…” Carrie begins.

  I give her a look of warning.

  “All right. I won’t ask.”

  “Why did you bring me here?” I ask her. “How in the world could you think it was a good idea to bring me here of all places? To Jimmy’s stepson’s place?”

  “I’d say it worked out well, wouldn’t you?”

  “That’s not the point. What if he’d turned us in?”

  She takes a seat on the chair beside the bed. “I didn’t have a lot of choices, you know? And I trust him. From the looks of it, you seem to trust him too.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, but I ignore her probing. Even though she’s my best friend, and has been since I was nineteen, I don’t kiss and tell, especially when it comes to dating relatives. That’s just all kinds of uncomfortable.

  “There’s something about him,” I begin. “Something…good? Does that make sense?”

  “Well, he did spend six years as a corpsman. A guy devoted to helping others, in the worst of circumstances, can’t be all that bad. And if we’re being honest, the guys you date are absolute pricks.”

  I ignore the dig. “I remember him. Not really well, but I remember him. And I remember thinking—even back then—that when he smiled he really meant it. I wanted to smile like that one day.”

  “I know what you mean. He made me smile like I meant it, too.”

  “You were close?” I ask because I honestly have no idea. Carrie’s a few years younger than me and I never started hanging around with her until after I graduated. We met at party, introduced by one of the many guys I used to date.

  “He was good to me,” Carrie says. “He used to take me out on dates with him.”

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. He liked having me around—or so he said—which given my mother and father meant a lot. In the summers, he’d take me to the beach with him and his friends. No one else did that for me as a kid. My mother was too busy working and my dad…well, he was too busy with his other family.”

  “I’m glad you had that, Care.”

  She nods. “It was nice. It ruined me when he left. I didn’t talk to him for a long time, but now I get why he left. If Jimmy had got his hands on him he’d probably be a completely different person right now.”

  I turn to face her while keeping a hand on Mickey’s arm. Absentmindedly, I stroke his freckled skin, hoping to give him comfort, or just to reassure him that I’m here for him and never leaving.

  What she says about Damien is true. Jimmy wouldn’t have let him stray outside of the family business. He’d have dragged him in no matter how much he protested and Jimmy would have ruined him—taken all of the goodness out of him.

  “Did you know Mona helped him leave?”

  She tips her head to the side. “No, I didn’t.”

  “She gave him the money he needed to leave town.”

  “Huh. Well, that’s interesting.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask.

  “When he came back to town I saw him out with Mona and it seemed weird to me. I didn’t ask him about it. It wasn’t my business, but I just couldn’t understand why they’d be out together. I didn’t even know they knew each other—more than casual acquaintances.”

  “She helped him find this apartment.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nod. “Apparently.”

  “Huh.” She chews on that nugget of information for a moment. “She gives him money and then six years later he comes back and they’re the best of friends?”

  “I don’t know about the best of friends, but…they were close. Pen pals, even.” I sigh. “How is that possible? There was a lot I didn’t know about her, but why keep something like that from me?”

  “Wait. What? Mona had a fucking pen pal?”

  “I know, right? How out of character is that?”

  Beth shakes her head as she drums her fingers on th
e wooden arm of the chair. “Well, I guess it makes sense that Mona kept that to herself. Having a pen pal doesn’t exactly give you street cred, if you know what I mean.”

  “But hiding it from me? What else did she hide from me? It makes me think I didn’t know her at all.”

  Mickey moans and his eyes flutter. I give him my undivided attention, holding his hand in mine and leaning in, eager to hear him say something…anything.

  “Mickey? Can you hear me?”

  “Ugh…” he moans. “I feel like I’ve been shot.”

  I find it hard to hold in my excitement. He’s finally awake! I feel as if my heart has leapt from my stomach to find its home back in my chest. Chuckling, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze until he moans again.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Did I hurt you?”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Not too long. A day.”

  He tries to sit up but I push him back down. “No, not yet.”

  Mickey’s face tightens and he stills at the sound of a drill bit fighting its way into a wall somewhere. The apartment shakes lightly, the only picture on the wall tipping to the left. “What the hell was that?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” I say, looking over to Carrie.

  She rolls her eyes and leaves the room. “I’ll look into it.”

  “You have no idea how worried I was,” I say, heaving in a deep breath. “I thought you were…”

  “Going to die?”

  Silently, I nod.

  He shakes his head, his eyes full of rage. “Kid, they need to be taken care of. You understand, right?”

  “There’s lots of time for that and I’ll tie you to the bed if you try to move before you’re ready.”

  “You and me kid. We’re going to kill every last one of them.”

  I bite my lip, letting his words sink in. I want them dead, too, but pulling the trigger? I’m not sure I have that in me.

  “Promise me we’ll do that. Every last one. And if I don’t pull through…”