by Mika Jolie
As he walked over to the driver side, he looked up suddenly and cast a look from Charles to her and held it. Then he removed his glasses, blurring the image in front of him—her. Then he entered the Jeep and drove off.
Claire stood still, her stomach nauseous. Her lungs hurt to breathe.
“Ready?” Charles asked with a hand on her shoulder.
She nodded, unable to speak or move. Nothing left to feel. Emotionally bankrupt, sorrow and misery consumed her. Small crystal beads trailed down her cheeks. She let them fall, not raising a hand to stop them.
“Let’s go back to the house, Claire. You can cry as much as you want.”
There was more where that came from, enough to cry for hours.
And what then?
Then she’d drink another glass of water and start all over again.
Chapter Nineteen
“Sometimes the heart needs time to accept what the mind already knows.”
Rosa Peters
Slowly Claire’s breathing hollowed itself and a small intense pain shot straight to the top of her head. Emptiness, a maelstrom of turmoil filled her. Dried tears hardened on her cheeks. She didn’t care to brush them away, let them stain her face. Maybe they could toughen her heart in the process. Time fast forwarded into night. She lost track of the hours, or how long she cried. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t numb, in fact, quite the opposite. A plethora of emotions came crashing in.
She should go to Forrest now. But the storm had them stuck in their respective corners. Or maybe he was with Kerry. Bile bubbled in her stomach.
Broken and grieving, he came to her during his time of need. She turned him away, because she wanted love.
Selfish.
Pragmatic, her conscience argued, caught in a web of denial.
Selfish–with a capital S or maybe all seven letters in caps...for emphasis. Her distorted view slowly came into focus. The last ten years had been about Claire Yasō Peters, a wildflower–not intentionally seeded or planted. When Forrest needed oblivion and sought her for shelter from the hurricane that stormed his life, she should have been his haven.
Wasn’t that part of loving someone?
But you want more, remember? her well-advised inner voice astutely pointed out.
She wanted love. Forrest offered sex.
Strong sexual desire versus that deep romantic attachment, the line between the two tended to smudge. One was the jangle down the neck when eyes locked across a crowded room, the feel that awakened the heart. The other consisted of warm smiles that spread across the face just by thinking about the other person. The entrapment of the heart.
Both had downfalls.
One came with the removal of the perfect mask, exposing a not-so-perfect personality. Along with all the flaws, arguments came acceptance and an understanding that moods and minds might vary. Most of all, an unconditional care for one another with an expiration date of infinity. The other–sex. Great sex, intense physical contact, late night calls, flirtatious texts, and nothing meaningful. The heart stood no chance of being affected or trampled.
But what was love without lust? Could one truly exist without the other?
She craved both. Call her greedy, but she wanted all the crushy feelings, all the potential, along with the happiness and the growing old part. But most importantly, she wanted Forrest to reciprocate her sentiments.
She’d bailed when the going got tough. To react that way at eighteen was understandable, but she hadn’t been eighteen for the last ten years.
A runner. For a while, distance was all that mattered. Distance from the island, from Forrest. She kept on running, widening the gap as much as she could, and never stopped to think… maybe he still loved her. For years, whenever her heart tried to force a confrontation, force her to look at the truth, she purposely shut it down, concealed all the things she longed for. Instead she kept her eyes glued to the GPS display, tracking achievement after achievement while the world passed in a blur of red and white lights.
And now…she chose to follow her heart.
But had her decision come a decade too late? Forrest was so consumed with grief that needed to be dealt with first. She wondered if he had any room for her, even if it were just lust.
It’s impossible, said pride.
It’s risky, said experience.
It’s pointless, said reason.
Give it a try, whispered the heart.
She had taken her foot off the gas pedal and realized a future without Forrest, regardless of all of her achievements, was no future at all. For as long as her memory served, he’d been a part of her. He seeped into her skin and rested in her bones. No time spent apart could take that feeling away. Picking up her phone, she clicked on the auction link. Three additional bids had popped up for Forrest. She was officially in a bidding war with a bunch of women vying for a date with the doctor.
Claire scanned the names. None said Kerry, but then again, all the names were made up. Oh well, fight or flight, right? She keyed in five thousand dollars, making her once again the highest bidder.
Flopping on the bed, she reached for her phone and sent Minka a text.
How are you feeling?
Minka’s response came quick.
Nauseous. Appointment has been postponed to tomorrow. You? Saw the pic.
A smile touched Claire’s lips. She answered.
Night of pic was fun. My bid is now at 5 thousand. I better win.
No point in pointing out she was officially fighting this war alone. Not that Forrest had given her any hope. If anything he’d been pretty firm on his friend stance. Well…not really. He flirted. He kissed her naked shoulder. He told her he jacked off to her for Pete’s sake. Friends didn’t share that kind of information. Well, technically she had opened that Pandora’s Box. Forrest just went along.
Minka answered.
You’ll win. Well, time for sleep…again. Hope 2 see you all tomorrow. Luv U.
Claire picked up the remote and turned on the television. While flicking through the channels, she dialed her mother’s number. One of the things she didn’t like about Chappy was the separation on days like today from the rest of the island.
“There you are,” her mother greeted, “Charles told me he baked you brownies.” Her mother chuckled.
“He did.”
“I hope you ate at least two.”
She glanced at the empty plate at the nightstand. The brownies hadn’t been that bad. Smiling, she nodded. “I ate a few.”
“So you’ve hit a bump with Forrest.”
“I’m trying to take away ten years of hurting him.” She let out a deep breath. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“He’s grieving. Sometimes the heart needs time to accept what the mind already knows.”
She understood that. “Mom, are you okay there all by yourself with the storm and all?”
Her mother managed a full staff, but mostly when the house was occupied. Winter months were quiet on the Vineyard and Charles had been traveling, which meant she was alone.
“I’m fine.”
For years she tried to convince her mother to stop working but was always met with a stubborn I will not live off my daughter. “Still not going to stop working?” It didn’t hurt to try once more.
The question was met with rich laughter. “This is my home, Claire. I’m happy. Remember it’s your turn to be happy too. I have to go, love.”
There was a slight pause. Claire strained her ear, sure she heard a muffled voice in the background. “Wait, are you…is there someone there with you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” her mother responded. Her voice, cool as a cucumber.
What the hell! Her mother was dating and spending the night with someone. She’d been on the island for a month now, why was this news to her? “Mom,” she started with caution.
“Claire, I have a life. I date and today my date is stranded here because of the storm. He wants to formally meet you soon.”
“Formally?”
“I was dancing with him at the potluck.”
She remembered her mother dancing with a handsome man that night. “Be careful.”
Her mother laughed. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”
“I’m not spending the night with a man.”
“Good point. I love you.”
After ending the call, she grabbed her journal and flipped to the page with the heading Tattooed Hearts and wrote, Love is like a dagger. It cuts deep and brands the heart, marking you forever. Her phone dinged a message alert. She glanced at the text from Forrest and gasped.
Not even close to what you thought you saw. I wanted you. After all this time, it’s still you.
Her heart tripped and came to a full stop, then everything restarted at once. Excitement wired her body, lungs pumping air, brain waves running amok. Bouncing off the bed, she slipped into her boots, zipped down the stairs, grabbed her coat in the process and made a beeline for the door.
“Going somewhere?” Charles asked as they walked past each other.
“Lake Tashmoo.” There was no need to say his name, everyone knew that was Forrest's hideaway.
“Weather is bad.” Charles sat on the sofa and picked up the remote.
She grabbed her keys and zipped up her coat. “I’ll make it.” Walking back to the sofa, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the brownies. I love you.”
He smiled. “Send a text to let me know you arrived safely.”
Almost one hour later, Claire gripped the steering wheel as the Audi sedan slid over the thick, fluffy white powder on the ground, crossing a mile every fifteen minutes through the mini-hurricane of snow and ice. In normal weather, driving to Forrest’s was a challenge. During a blizzard, it was downright impossible. Slowing the SUV, she made a right turn onto Meadow Lane, where two unlit dirt roads sloped side by side and wound through acres of woodland. The snow hung in the air, and fogged the windshield, obscuring her vision. She switched her headlights from low beam to fog lamps and crept through the gray murk until she pulled alongside the orange Jeep.
She knocked on the door. No response. Nothing but a gaping silence. She knocked again, this time with her fist, matching the rhythm of her thumping heart. Nervous twitter bubbled in her stomach. Then the door opened and brought her face to face with Forrest. His hair was damp and wavier than normal and looked as if he threw a sweater and jeans on at the last minute. He followed her gaze to his half-zipped jeans, giving her a peek of fine dark hair, and quickly pulled up the zipper.
“I was about to shower,” he said.
She cleared her throat, ignoring the rush of heat that coursed through her and told herself to calm down for a minute. “Can I come in?”
Without a word, he stepped back. They stood staring at each other for a beat, sexual tension electrifying the space between them.
“Driving here was not prudent,” he said in a gravelly voice. “There’s a blizzard outside.”
The act was a completely reckless one, but the heart had a way of throwing caution to the wind. “I read your text.”
Something flared in his eyes—desire. Her heart picked up pace again.
“That could have waited,” he said, voice calm.
A tiny burst of panic kicked the air out of her lungs. The man was so controlled. Here she stood, the cleft between her thighs moist and desperate, and he was telling her they could have waited to have sex. Definitely not. She would have driven through a tsunami tonight.
“No, it couldn’t.” There was a pause, then she added, “I’m sorry.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Me too.”
She shook her head. “Your words hurt, but they were the truth.” She released a small sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier. I’m sorry for walking away from you that night.” Just thinking about Forrest sitting in his room waiting made her heart ache all over again. “I should have come to you. I shouldn’t have ignored your attempts to talk to me, but…” she sucked in a breath, choking and fighting back tears. “You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt.” Her uncaring attitude went on for too long. “I was so…selfish. I’m sorry.”
She held her breath, waiting, hoping. She loved him, always had, and always would.
“Claire…” he started in a gravel voice.
“You still want me.” It wasn’t a question, but her stomach still tightened a little with angst.
“Always,” he said without any hesitation, causing a pulse to run from the tips of her breasts to her core.
The air snapped and crackled. “I can do lust.”
He closed the door and looked at her for a beat. Warning flashed in those beautiful eyes of his, a very serious warning. One that said, In about thirty seconds, we are having wild animal sex. She moved in closer just as he took a step forward, the space between them ceased to exist.
He gripped her hips and pressed her against the hardness of his arousal. “I can share my bed.”
Chapter Twenty
“Grab my hair like you grabbed my heart.”
Anonymous
Forrest studied Claire. Her palms placed flat over his chest. Brown eyes hazy with lust looked up and drew him in. The fire she started in him over a decade ago flared, the ache for her tight and hard in his gut.
Torn by the urge to strip her naked and maybe…just maybe make it to the couch, or keep his balls in check for the slow, deep penetration he craved most. Desire rumbled through his chest. But he’d set the pace. He liked control. More importantly he wanted to know how she felt melting against him. Their first time after a decade of longing, yearning, had been purely physical, straight out, unadulterated blatant sex…for him.
Emotions tugged at his stomach. This time he’d reciprocate. This was Claire pressing against him. The woman he’d never gotten over.
He wanted to touch, kiss, and wrap his arms around her. Not just for the sake of the physical connection. That would never be enough. He yearned for something deeper–to lose himself in her. The need was so fierce it made his heart ache.
“Kerry’s car broke down,” he said for no particular reason, except it was important she knew he’d never go to someone else to spite her. No matter how he fought the longing, the warnings to not go back to what broke him, it’d always come down to her. “I gave a friend a ride.”
“To her house,” she said in a quavering voice.
“Then I went to Mrs. Kane to shovel snow.”
At that she smiled. His gaze dropped to her mouth, bare and tantalizing. He trailed his lips along her jawline to her ear. She shivered against him. His mouth slid to the corner of hers and was rewarded by the clutch of her hands on his sweater. Having her cling on to him like...he was her only anchor, sent a leap of tangled emotions straight through him.
“No substitute, Claire,” he murmured, just before their lips came crashing together. Hard, passionate, the kind of kiss that would make anyone weak at the knees, foggy in the head, and leave them not only wanting, but desperately needing more.
He wasn’t immune. He was in deep, deep shit.
Slanting his mouth against hers for more, she moved with him, into him, making the connection all the more satisfying. He heard a heavy groan. His. Clearly he was out of his mind. Satisfying wasn’t the right word. Not even close.
Hot. She was so hot he struggled to sustain control. And then she made one of those soft, mewling sounds from the back of her throat, silently telling him she had capitulated and was now at his mercy. The sound wrecked his equilibrium.
He kissed her more, sinking deeper into her taste. Their hands bumped into each other as they moved, grappling for control, something to grab, touch. Hers ran over his chest and arms. His fumbled with the buttons of her coat until it fell onto the floor.
She angled her body closer, her breasts pressed against his chest. Their bodies became magnets, crashing into their opposite charge, smashing, pushing, and discovering each other once more. Their tongues moved together in a hot duet. The temperature rose as they clawed
their way through the kiss, desperate for more. Teeth, lips, mouth, tongue–all furious and fevered heat as their hands tore at sweaters and pants to get to that skin-on-skin contact.
It was then they broke the kiss and stared at each other, chest heaving, trying to catch their breath. Then she did what he least expected. She caught his hand and brought her lips to the black ink on his forearm. The act hit him square in the chest, and air whooshed out of his lungs.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered in a trembling voice, before continuing the onslaught by moving to his chest. She grasped a nipple between her teeth and ran her tongue over it.
His heartbeat sped up. “I need to shower,” he said, pebbles in his throat.
“I like you sweaty.”
Bending down, he scooped her in his arms. She let out a little giggle, wrapped her hand around his neck and didn’t let go until he dropped her on the bed. “First shower, I’ll be quick.”
She arched a brow.
“In the shower,” he said, and sucked on her lower lip.
* * * *
After waiting impatiently for what seemed like eternity, but was really less than five minutes, Claire bounced off the bed and headed to the closed door. She stood outside of the bathroom, listening to the sound of the water running. She bit her lower lip, envisioning Forrest naked, dripping wet. Sensations exploded in various parts of her body from all the emotions locked up in her heart.
Desire.
Need.
Love.
Lust.
Lust, the sudden, powerful, almost overwhelming desire for something that was definitely bad for you.
Bah! It was Forrest standing on the other side of the door. Her first and only love, they had given their virginity to each other. Even then, when they were inexperienced and discovering together, they’d been good together.
Lust was definitely not a bad thing. On the contrary, the hot doctor she was lusting after would be very good for her…without a doubt.
