David took a measured pace forward.
“This isn’t how this goes,” I explained. “It can’t happen again.”
“Olivia.” This time, it was a command—he must’ve known what it did to me. He reached for me. “Come here.”
It only took one step from me before he’d gathered me in his arms. He kissed my temple, my wounded cheek, my neck. I cherished the feel of his lips on my skin, knowing it would be the last time. With that, I began to weep silently in his arms. This time I cried for what I was losing, not from guilt or regret. He let me, holding me closer, his large hands caressing my back as the sheet fell to my hips. My nipples hardened against his wall of a chest—his equal desire twitched against my stomach.
“Shh,” he whispered in my ear. He bent and kissed me full on the lips, pressing my wet face against his and sharing the tears. The slow and sensual tempo of his kiss turned urgent and deep. His hand slid down my back and under the sheet, massaging my ass and inspiring the fervor again.
I’d been with boys before; I’d been with boys I’d thought were men. But this was different. David kissed like a man. He tasted, he smelled, and he fucked like a man. It would take all the strength I had and then some.
I understood now that I was the one who would have to be strong for everyone—for David, for Bill, and for myself. It’d been unfair to ask David to be. It was on my shoulders.
“No,” I said resolutely and pulled away, drawing the sheet over my shoulders. Looking up at him from under wet lashes, I felt small but with him, never insignificant.
“Olivia.” His tone softened, and I could see the struggle within him. “I’ve waited . . . it’s not—I know this is wrong. Don’t you think I know?” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I will be by your side every step of the way.”
“By my side?” I asked. “For what?”
“You came to my bed knowing this wasn’t a fling to me,” he said firmly.
“You knew I would,” I accused. “Has any woman ever turned you down? What choice did I really have?”
His lips thinned into a line. “Don’t pretend you didn’t choose this. You have been nothing but vague about your feelings, and I let you have that—but I was always clear about how I feel, and what last night meant to me. And if anything, I’m even more confident this morning.”
“Confident about what?”
“That you’re mine.”
I stared at him. I was . . . his. It felt true, and it could be in another life—but in this one, I already belonged to another man. “The only way this works is if I leave my husband.”
He crossed his arms. “I understand.”
“I—I . . .” Maybe he’d expected that last night, and maybe I’d let myself believe it could happen. But that didn’t mean he could snap his fingers and make it so. “You and I have known each other less than two months. We’ve spent one night together. Bill and I, we have history, years—”
“I don’t want to hear that.”
“Well, you have to,” I snapped. “This isn’t something we can try out and see how it goes. Divorce is fucking messy and painful.”
“No shit,” he said. “Can you honestly tell me you’ve never considered it, even without me in the picture?”
“Yes,” I said. “I can honestly say I’ve never considered it.” I shook my head and stepped back. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. We have to forget this happened—it was a mistake. I knew it would be even before it happened. I take responsibility.”
He set his jaw. “Call it a mistake if it helps you sleep at night, but I know that’s not how you feel.”
“How I feel in this moment cannot be the reason I upend my entire life. I’m going to walk out that door, and we’re going to move on with our lives, and very soon, we’ll realize this was nothing but lust we shouldn’t have indulged.”
He waited, his brown eyes searching mine. “You don’t believe that at all,” he said.
He was right, but it was an argument I couldn’t afford to lose, so I didn’t respond to it. “You promised you’d leave me alone if I asked you to,” I said.
“If you ask and you mean it, I will.”
“I mean it.” My heart clenched. I had to be the one. I had to make this call for all of us, or things would only get messier. More painful.
I forced any feelings for him aside, straightened my shoulders, and repeated, “I mean it, David.”
After a few moments of silence, his expression smoothed. “You can’t even say it. If you really want me gone, tell me to get the fuck out of your life.”
I stared back at him, urging the final good-bye off my tongue to put an end to us once and for all.
“Is that,”—he enunciated each word and stepped toward me—“what you want? For me to walk away for good?”
“I . . .”
“Just say it.” He grasped my blanketed arms. “Tell me, Olivia. Tell me that’s what you want.”
I opened my mouth, but words failed me. I loved his attention, and how it woke me up, how I came alive in his presence. But giving in to those passions might just as easily turn against me. Loving someone like David could be the most wonderful experience—and the most painful. Already, his pleas to stay tore me open in ways I’d worked hard to avoid.
He pressed his fingers into my biceps, and my body nearly wilted under his command. “Look me in the eye and tell me you can forget,” he said. “If you can, then I promise—we’re through.”
My knees and my resolve began to buckle. I reached deep inside for a modicum of strength. Any woman would be lucky to have this man standing in front of her, asking her to stay. Any woman would be horrified to know that I was tempted to give up my life for a man I’d just met, who could take me to new highs but even lower lows.
I squared my shoulders. “I-I . . .”
“I can’t hear you,” he said, stepping into me so I was pressed up against the doorjamb.
“I—you’re hurting me.”
His grip loosened, though I hadn’t meant physically. “Then say it, Olivia,” he ordered. “Say it.”
“Yes,” I yelled, suddenly desperate to hurt him back. “This is what I want! To forget you. To forget this mistake. I don’t want you. It’s over.”
His brows furrowed, and his face fell as if I’d struck him.
I ducked away and rushed to grab my things from the floor. I ran out of his bedroom to the foyer, hit the Down button, dropped the sheet, and dressed speedily as the elevator ascended.
Thankfully, he didn’t come after me this time. I didn’t think I could ever look into those chestnut browns again without remembering the agony and betrayal I’d just seen.
Once inside the elevator, I bit my lip to hold back the tears. I tried, in desperation, to shove David’s expression out of my mind.
He’d forget me, though. It would be easy to toss out my memory like he’d surely done with many women. While I feared my heart would never forget one detail about him.
The elevator doors parted to a regal, eerily quiet hotel lobby. The click of my heels echoed as I raced through, fixing my gaze on the revolving door ahead as if that would get me there faster. When I pushed through to the other side, I shielded my eyes from the glaring, unrelenting sun.
I stumbled down the block. David had thought I’d choose him. I’d betrayed and hurt both men, breaking promises to each of them. I’d spiraled. I’d snapped. I’d been reckless for the first time since I’d seen the damage irrational love could do.
I couldn’t hold myself together for another step. I leaned my back against a scratchy brick wall to pull myself together.
If one night with David could leave me broken this way, what kind of life would ours have been?
Volatile. Unstable. Passionate nights. Explosive fights. A mad, combustible lust . . .
Even knowing the heartache David could cause, I wanted to run back to him now. But my past anchored me where I was. That, and the thought of an unpredictable future that could soar
to new heights just as surely as it could crash and burn. Getting wrapped up in David, his mouth on mine, his fingers tightening in my hair—it had already made me forget the truth too many times.
I’d chosen Bill for a reason.
And one day, I’d wake up, my lust for David gone, and I’d know without a doubt that I’d made the right choice.
And I realized in that moment what that choice meant. I hadn’t only said good-bye to David. I’d just committed to the life I’d seen inside that two-story suburban house weeks ago. The one on the realtor’s postcard currently hanging on my refrigerator door. A commute into Chicago, a manicured lawn, a husband who’d work long hours to make sure our family was always comfortable. And the office that would one day be a nursery.
There was no turning back now.
Alone, where nobody could see, I sank down to the ground, put my head in my hands, and sobbed.
Thank you for reading Come Undone, book one in the Cityscape Affair series. Keep clicking to continue on to the next in the series, Come Alive.
Come Alive
Cityscape Affair, Book Two
Determined to move on with her life, Olivia Germaine has vowed to forget the enigmatic and irresistible David Dylan. Struggling to keep her head above water, she focuses on her new promotion and refuses to drown in the memory of their night together.
But when Olivia realizes what life without David means, she must decide if she’s willing to risk everything for him…and if she’s ready to reopen the wounds of her past.
Olivia knows she should forget her feelings for David and move forward with her marriage. If only David would stay away like he promised…
1
I blinked my eyes open and quickly squeezed them shut again. Knowing I’d been caught, I fluttered my lids as though I hadn’t been about to feign sleep. My husband stood over me, watching, but I focused on the nightstand to avoid his stare.
“It’s nine,” Bill said gently. “Better get a move on.”
I rolled over and faced the wall with a small sigh, unable to handle his soft expression. “I’m not going.”
“Liv,” he started.
“I have to work today.”
“Work?” he asked.
“Things are crazy at the office.”
“It’s the weekend, and I told you about this birthday party last week. Can’t it wait till Monday?”
I shook my head. “I’m under deadline.”
“I’m sure you could spare a Saturday afternoon for family,” he said wryly.
“Call Serena if you don’t believe me.”
“Of course I believe you,” he said, taken aback. “But you’re working too much. You need to take some time off, babe. It’s been over three months of this.”
I gulped. Had it only been three months?
Bill continued tentatively, his tone hedging. “I know it’s been hard, but this isn’t what Davena would’ve wanted. She’d want you to move on.”
I almost laughed out loud, but I didn’t. I never did. I didn’t deserve to move on. For one, I’d used my grief over the death of Davena, a family friend who’d always been there for me, as an excuse to seize the night and fuck another man. But Davena was only a fraction of my problem. Mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about that other man.
The mattress dipped when Bill sat. Hesitant fingertips touched my shoulder, and my skin pebbled. I couldn’t remember when he’d last touched me. When he’d stopped even trying. His caress was strange—unexpected but not unwanted. It triggered a wave of guilt that left my heart pounding. Because of what I knew. Because of what I’d done. Because, after three months, I still burned with desire. But it wasn’t for him.
I braced myself as David’s face flashed across my mind. I wished I wouldn’t think of him every morning and dream of him at night. I wished his memory would disappear, the way he had from my life. Three months. Three months since I’d stormed from his apartment, since that night. My insides flurried as I remembered, the details still fresh in my mind despite the time that had passed. Despite the fact that every time they surfaced, I dashed them away immediately.
“Well, I have to go to the party.” Bill’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You know how my sister can hold a grudge.”
“Of course you do, sweetie.” The endearment was forced, unnatural, but Bill wouldn’t notice. “I wrapped Jimmy’s video game last night—it’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks. I’ll bring you back a piece of birthday cake.” When I didn’t respond, he stood and left the room. Soon after, I heard the front door shut and exhaled a long breath.
Hours were slow, stretched and elongated like a rubber band that never snapped. On my better days, I woke up numb.
Today is not one of those days, I thought as I dragged myself from the bed.
Dressed in an outfit much too crisp and binding for the weekend, I meticulously applied my makeup. Every strand of my golden brown hair was combed into obedience. Inside, I had cracks, but I wouldn’t let them break the surface.
I was on the train within the hour. I found comfort in the way everything blurred together through the windows. A child’s squeal had me blinking from my trance. Across from me, a young man wrangled two toddlers as his wife cradled a baby on her lap. It was chaotic and messy, but she watched her husband with obvious love. The woman grinned as he dodged apple juice spray. I looked away, fiddling with the clasp of my purse.
The morning after my night with David, I’d cried my eyes raw against the brick wall by his apartment. I hadn’t known up from down, left from right, love from despair. But I’d locked it up so tightly I could still feel the chains digging into me with every movement. When Bill had returned from his trip that same day, I’d mustered the biggest, most convincing welcome I could manage. But I couldn’t look him in the eye. And I couldn’t pretend to want his hands on me. And though Bill was never one to pick up on my subtle cues, I had made it impossible for him not to.
Somehow, the week had passed. After a late night at work, I’d walked into an apartment filled with twenty of our closest friends and family. I’d gritted my teeth and let them wish me a happy thirtieth birthday, barely making it through the night. Not even Lucy or Gretchen, my closest friends in the world, could scratch the surface. I could only put my energy into acting normal.
Then, I’d overheard Gretchen and Bill in the kitchen toward the end of the party.
“How’s she doing?” Gretchen asked.
“I can’t tell, and it freaks me out,” Bill said. “She won’t talk about Davena at all. She keeps to herself and pretends nothing is wrong.”
“Well, Davena was like a second mother to Olivia,” Gretchen said. “There are times in her life when she was closer to her than to her actual mom.”
“I think that’s why she’s taking Davena’s death especially hard. She and her mom haven’t been getting along.”
Gretchen sniffed. “She doesn’t look well.”
“I rarely see her eat,” Bill said. “I’d feel better if she at least cried, but she does nothing except smile and laugh in the weirdest way.”
“She was like this when her parents divorced.” Gretchen sighed. “I tried to tell you. She’s hurting. She doesn’t deal well with loss.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you tried talking to her?” Gretchen asked.
There was a pause. “She leaves the room when I do.”
“It’s still fresh. Just give her time, Bill.”
After the last guest had left, Bill and I had fought. I’d made some empty promise to come home early from work but had forgotten and unknowingly missed half of the surprise party. I asked him how he could’ve possibly thought a party was a good idea.
I started leaving for work early and coming home late every day. With my recent promotion over my co-worker Lisa to senior editor at Chicago Metropolitan Magazine, it wasn’t hard to find projects. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. And not a day went by that I wasn’t remi
nded of him. Of that night. And of the irreversible thing I’d done.
As the train barreled along, I tried not to remember. After all, the separation from David had been longer than the time I’d known him. Surely that was enough time to move on?
But our stolen moments together had proved impossible to forget. I fought myself as I always did when the memory threatened, but in that moment, alone on the crowded train, I wasn’t strong enough to stop it. I remembered the pain in his hard brown eyes when he’d demanded that I speak up. That I tell him I wanted nothing more to do with him. I rewound through our final conversation, when he’d said he wanted me to himself, no matter the consequences. I recalled how he’d felt pressed against me, and how I’d wished he would take me again.
His hands on my hips had held me steady as he’d mercilessly driven me to orgasm . . . twice. It was unforgettable. Haunting. Relentless. Under his affection, under his touch, I’d come alive. And since then, I was slowly drowning—hounded by the memory I tried to repel and weighed down by the guilt.
* * *
My footsteps echoed through the empty Chicago Metropolitan Magazine lobby. Maybe it wasn’t necessary for me to work on a Saturday, but I couldn’t deal with sitting through a child’s birthday party with Bill’s family. I weaved through the empty cubicles until reaching a door that had previously belonged to my boss, Diane, but which now read:
Olivia Germaine. Senior Editor.
I flopped into my big desk chair and rubbed my eyes. On the days I wasn’t numb, everything seemed sharper, more excruciating—shame, grief, desire. It was a constant battle to swallow the emotions that rose up my throat one after the other.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, but other things occupied my mind. I owed Bill more than I gave him. He’d been patient, and I knew he was becoming truly concerned. Whenever things turned intimate between us, I pulled away without an explanation. He attributed my distance to Davena’s death, but that was only part of it.
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 28
