When we both come to, we slowly explore each other’s bodies with soap. I am enamored with his back and the beautiful ripples that soar over it. I place soft kisses on a scar that rests below his shoulder blade. Asher spends too much time admiring a beauty mark on my inner calf.
We wash each other’s hair and have a soap fight with the bubbles from our overuse of body wash. The water runs cold and our fingers start to prune from too much time kissing under the shower.
We dress ourselves in towels. I hang back and take a moment to dry my hair and freshen myself up. Exiting the bathroom, I’m shocked to see the room illuminated in the soft splendor of candles.
“Aren’t you full of surprises? Where did you get candles?” I ask. This man is always such a mystery.
“Maybe it’s magic,” he says from his place by the bed.
“I doubt it. Let me guess. You texted Devon to buy candles.”
Asher lets out a laugh and hangs his head in mock shame. “You know me too well.”
Even if this is only for one night, Asher is pulling out all the stops. I wonder if he’s like this with all his women. I push the idea out of my head. I’m not ruining this moment. If it’s only for one night, I’m going to live every second of it.
Asher appears from behind and wraps his arms around me.
“I’ve ordered in. Come, let’s eat.” He places a soft kiss on my neck and leads me to a table by the window. His towel is too small for his frame, and I giggle at the site of flesh peeking out from beneath.
“What I would give to know what goes on inside that little head of yours.” His luminous smile glows brighter than I’ve ever seen it.
“Very dirty thoughts, Mr. Asher.”
“Care to share?”
“You can use your imagination. Mostly revisiting the act of you ravaging me in the shower. You have given me plenty of moments to relive once this night is over.”
A frown registers on his face. Did I say something wrong? His eyes look down at the table. “Let’s not talk about tonight ending yet. The night, as they say, is still young.”
I nod and take a seat. Asher has ordered a smorgasbord of food. From pancakes to lamb chops, chocolate cake to a Caesar salad, I think he’s ordered one of everything on the menu.
“Since we have no idea what time it is, I didn’t know if you wanted breakfast or dinner.” His full mouth is mesmerizing as he speaks. I lean over to kiss it.
“This is perfect. I’m starving.”
He laughs heartily. “Perfect. What would you like?”
“Pancakes!”
“I ordered them especially for you. You told me that night we went out to the bar. You were standing under the streetlight, looking like heaven. I wanted to kiss you then, but I knew you’d just run.”
I recall that night. He wanted to kiss me? Thank God he hadn’t. I would have quit my job.
“You were my knight in shining armor. You took care of me that night. There is something about you. I fall apart when I’m around you.”
“That’s good to know because I feel the same way about you.”
I recall Asher’s words from last night. He’s been an equal wreck around me. All this time he wanted me yet pretended to be friends for personal gain. Am I another one of his toys, another conquest? Now that he’s had me, will he be done with me?
It’s probably for the best. I’m married. I know that’s what Asher likes about me. I’m someone with a husband pulling the string straight back home. Even though my husband is a total cheating bastard. But that is no excuse. I am now one, too.
The pancakes are warm and buttery, as sinful as the act they follow. I dive my fork and marvel at how easy they separate. They remind me of the first night I spent with Gabriel, or shall I say the first morning?
I awoke to the smell of butter on a frying pan. I knew something delicious was cooking in the kitchen. Yes, there was something very delicious: Gabe in nothing but sweatpants and a spatula, making me pancakes in the very modest kitchen of his college apartment. I must have startled him when I entered the room because he dropped a pancake on the floor at the sight of me.
His face was young and eager, his smile broad and excited to see I was still there. Gabe ushered a chair for me, and I took a seat as he poured me a glass of orange juice. I couldn’t deny my surprise that he had the ingredients to make breakfast. Not many boys kept a stocked refrigerator or anything other than beer and Ramen noodles. Even still, he didn’t strike me as the type of guy who made breakfast often.
I raised the fork to my mouth and took a bite. One bite and, boy, was I right about this one.
How on earth did he make them so hard?
Maybe if I tried adding more butter or syrup they’d taste better. No, no help. I looked up to see Gabe staring at me, watching me eat. I put on a gracious smile. It was so cute that he cooked for me. I couldn’t insult him.
When Gabe finally took a bite himself, he immediately spit it out. “Oh my God, that’s awful!”
Call it nervous energy and completely inappropriate for the mood, but I broke out into complete laughter. I was so relieved he felt the same way that I just let out the biggest, gut-wrenching laugh; I nearly fell out of my seat. After a few beats, Gabe joined in laughing too and that felt even better.
When our nerves and laughter had settled, we sat for a few seconds and caught our breath until a frown formed across Gabriel’s eyes. He stood and walked toward the kitchen, pushing his long brown hair off his forehead, taking a few paces in the kitchen before returning to the table and taking his seat.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Leaning back on his chair, Gabe crossed his arms across his hunched chest. His chin lowering as he shook his head.
“I wanted to impress you,” he said.
Lifting myself from the chair, I walked toward him. Uncrossing his hands, I pulled them apart and took a seat on his lap, wrapping my arms around him. I landed a sweet kiss on his lips and looked into his navy blues.
“You are the most impressive man I’ve ever met. I don’t need pancakes. I just need you.”
His grin melted my heart and widened into a gorgeous smile that reached his eyes. Tugging me closer, he kissed me with his whole body, and I reciprocated.
“Come back to me, Kathryn.”
I smile at the memory of a simpler time. A time that wasn’t that long ago yet feels so far away. It’s amazing how much people can change in a day, a year, a decade. It’s a hard lot to swallow when you’re promising an eternity.
“Stop overthinking.” Asher’s eyes are on me. He stands up and makes his way around the table and leans down to me, placing soft kisses on my shoulder. “Come. Back. To. Me.”
Even though we’ve been more intimate than some married couples, I still feel nervous around him. I smile and try to ease his curiosity. He wants one day, and I want to give it to him. With Asher, I feel as sexy and alive as I did when I was a teenager. And I want to live in this moment.
“I know you like living in our cocoon up here, but we should get some fresh air,” I suggest, turning to my side and facing a kneeling Asher.
“I don’t trust that you’ll leave this room and not freak out.” He leans back on his heels. “I meant what I said. I need you. What you’ve done to me in the last few weeks has been amazing. I’ve never woken up with a woman and wanted to spend more time with her. Usually, it’s the complete opposite. But you, you make me thirsty for more. And I’m not ready to give that up. If you walk out that door, it’s over between us. I know it.”
He’s right. I haven’t told him about Gabriel’s affair, and when I do, this thing between us will be over. We both know Asher only wants me because he can’t truly have me.
“I’m a grown woman. I know what I’m doing.” I rise from the table and walk back toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” He sounds concerned.
“Swimming.”
Asher is relieved to see I didn’t melt at the sight of sun, nor di
d I run back into the building full of regret. In fact, I welcome the heat. I feel invincible.
Asher calls for an attendant to set up a cabana with two lounge chairs on the beach facing the water. Again, we’re in our little cocoon, but I’m enjoying my time with him and can last for one more day. Besides, what am I rushing home to?
Asher’s skin glistens in the hot sun. It’s an added bonus to be able to pay homage to him in the daylight instead of our love den upstairs. I pull my chair out of the cabana and into the light. I still haven’t looked at a clock, but I assume it’s close to one. Asher has also sworn off cell phones for the two of us, and so far I’ve obliged.
The waves crash nearby, and I dance in the sound of them. There is no greater feeling. I lie back, close my eyes, and daydream about the amazing last few hours. Up against the wall, the bed. The shower… It was hot. Asher was more than I could have imagined. Who knew my body could respond like that.
I fantasize about his beautiful body and gorgeous face touching me, tasting me, doing incredible things to me. Reliving every caress and recounting every thrust. If the sun wasn’t making me hot, the thoughts of last night would.
Sinking deeper into my dream, I lick my lips in satisfaction. Yes, it was that good.
I am lost in my dream until… I’m wet!
I let out a girlish scream.
I’m wet. Literally, not in a “turned on” kinda way.
I look up to see a grinning, devilish Alexander Asher with an empty glass, which the remains of I can only assume are now on me. The ice-cold liquid against my heated body is painful, and I instinctively want to hurt him.
Asher laughs and backs away toward the beach. “You looked like you needed to cool off.” He chides. “You should stop fantasizing about me and enjoy the real thing.”
He grabs my waist and hoists me toward the water, teasing and running away yet dragging me along with him.
Like he always does, he makes me hate him and want him in the same breath. The ocean water is warm in comparison to the cold drink yet freezing compared to the heat of my body. I thrust myself up against Asher in search of body heat to protect me from the cold current. With one hand around my waist, the other locks around my ponytail and pulls my head back until my lips are facing his. He leans down and takes my mouth in his, and I immediately begin to warm up. His body tight against me, I can feel all of him.
When he finally releases me from our kiss, he steps back and splashes me. I splash back, and like teenagers, we’re wrestling and playing in the water, stealing kisses when we can.
Parasailors glide above us and shout obscene things, but I can’t hear exactly what they’re saying. We’re too into each other. I’m amazed how much fun Asher can be. We have handstand contests and show off our best skills. When the waves pick up, Asher challenges me to a body surfing competition. I win by default when my bathing suit falls off. My prize is getting it back after much embarrassment.
Growing hungry, Asher races me back to our chairs, which I legitimately win, and we dry each other off with oversized beach towels. Asher orders oysters, mini sliders, and Coronas.
After enjoying my meal, I lean back into the soft cushion of my chair and take in the beautiful day.
To the right of us, a little girl is playing in the sand. She has black hair and black eyes with a bright white smile. She’s wearing a one-piece suit with bright-pink hibiscus flowers. I watch her diligently shovel sand into her pail and haphazardly dump it out. She is a sweet sight. Almost as sweet as my angel. My sweet boy with his wavy brown hair and navy-blue eyes. My sweet boy who drools all over me and refuses to say my name. My cherub who loves to kick his feet in the bath water and is probably learning how to walk at this very moment. My baby who I’m not with right now.
“Jackson!”
I pop up from the lounge chair and look over at Asher, who is staring at me with a confused expression. I look back at the hotel behind us, the beach in front of us, the cabanas around us, and the little girl to my right.
What am I doing here?
Have I become that woman? The kind who runs off to another state with her boss and… oh my God… has an affair!
Who am I?
I am a mother.
Have I forgotten that? Despite Gabriel, despite Asher, there is a boy whom I love more than anyone in this world, and he isn’t home and he is certainly not with me.
Not too long ago I yearned for a day when I would get out of the house, go back to work and become the successful woman I once set out to be. I wanted my son to be raised by a strong, independent woman. To show him that you can achieve anything in this world if you put your mind to it. I wanted to be his greatest role model.
This is not the life I’d want my son to be proud of.
“I have to go!” I practically jump out of my chair and throw the cover-up over my head and grab my purse before storming off toward the hotel.
“Kathryn!”
I leave a stunned pair of golden eyes in the cabana as I race through the hotel grounds and inside, making it into the elevator just as the doors are about to close.
Seconds before they shut, I see Asher darting through the lobby.
“Kathryn!” he calls, but the doors shut tight and the car rises up to my floor. I need to pack. Pack what? I need to change and get the hell out of here.
I get to my room door and go to open it. My key! I need a key. It’s in my bag.
I’m searching for the key when I hear the elevator ping. I gather the key out of my bag as Asher darts down the hall.
I open the door and enter the room, marching straight to the closet. I need the clothes I came in. Crap, where are they?
Asher is right behind me. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” I grab the suit off the floor where I dropped it last night.
“Shit!” he swears, placing his hand on the back of his neck, rubbing hard. He’s wearing nothing but his trunks. “I knew we should have never left this room.”
“I’m sorry, Asher, but I have to go home.” I slip my skirt on over my bathing suit. I’ll pay him for it when I get back.
“Please, don’t go,” he pleads.
Stretching the button-down over my arms, I make sure not to look at his eyes. They’ll force me to stay, I know.
“Asher, please…”
“Asher? What happened to…?” He fumbles over his words. “Just stay the day. We’ll leave together in the morning.” He approaches me, trying to make contact.
“I have to see Jackson!”
He looks at me, aggravated, agitated, confused.
“Who is Jackson?” He nearly screams the question at me.
Holy. Fuck.
My hands stop buttoning my blouse and I look up see his gorgeous face pleading, desperate.
“Jackson is my son,” I whisper. How does he not know this?
“You have a son?” He makes it sound like he’s just swallowed a bitter pill.
I take a step back. How does this man not know I have a son? We’ve talked about this. Haven’t we?
FUCK!
“I have a child. You know this.” I continue buttoning my shirt.
“I had no fucking clue you had a kid.” He turns from me and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “How old?”
“A little over a year.” My voice is low and my head is down. What have I done? I slide my jacket on.
He shoots around and I can see the hurt around his eyes. “You have a baby?”
I’ve never felt lower in my entire life. I slide on my shoes and grab my purse. I don’t belong here.
“I have a baby named Jackson. And I need to get home to him. He is who I should be with. I shouldn’t be here with you.” I head toward the door, stopping just before leaving. “I thought you knew.”
I pause for a second, staring at the floor, waiting for… I don’t know what I’m waiting for. His silence is deafening, yet his body is screaming at me with tension. Turning the handle, I swing the door open and let it cl
ose behind me as I walk away.
Just like that, I exit the hallway. Exit the elevator. Exit the lobby and hop into a cab.
Asher doesn’t follow me.
Why I thought I could easily hop a flight back to New York is beyond me. I sit in the airport for hours waiting to board my plane. I try calling Gabriel from the terminal, but he’s still not picking up. My battery is dying when it’s time to board the plane. I turn it off to save a little bit of juice.
My seat is 33A, in coach, a far cry from the private jet I arrived in yet exactly what I deserve. The girl next to me is afraid to fly. I can tell because her guy next to her is holding onto her hand and comforting her sweetly.
Great.
I stare out the window, watching the world below me disappear. The last seventy-two hours have marked me in a way I’ll never be able to undo. This whole time I’ve been focusing on a lost marriage when I’ve been losing myself. Going back to work isn’t the problem. My husband working late isn’t the problem. I’m the problem. My priorities have been in the wrong place.
What’s wrong with being a stay-at-home mom? What’s wrong with cherishing my little boy? Was it so bad? Did I have it so rough that I couldn’t just be happy?
And Gabriel. So what if he did run into the arms of another woman. Isn’t that exactly what I just did? I’ve made a mess of everything.
I need to make it right.
But can I?
I exit JFK International Airport and catch a cab. The New York sky is thick with clouds, the complete contrast of the beautiful blue skies of Miami.
I try Gabriel’s cell phone again. No answer.
With my legs crossed, my dangling foot shakes a mile a minute, banging on the seat in front of me. I know it’s bothering the driver, but I can’t stop. Scrolling through my phone, I bite my thumbnail as I wait for Gabriel to call me back.
Why isn’t he calling?
My phone chirps the familiar sound of a new email coming through. I open the email app and see a new message from an unfamiliar address. I tap it open and download the attachment.
Pure Abandon Page 25
