by Mika Jolie
This evoked a rough sound from him. “Kiss me,” he almost begged.
“Anywhere?” she asked and dropped to her knees. Her lips were so close to his hardness, he felt the warmth of her breath caressing him.
He was practically vibrating in pure ecstasy. She ran her tongue from the root of his length all the way up in a slow, torturous lick. The act drew out another rough sound from the back of his throat.
Then she took him in her mouth.
Her lips tightly encircled his throbbing erection. All the blood from his body rushed to his cock, thick in her mouth.
His hands automatically fisted in her hair and held. “Fuck, Claire.”
She started slowly with the onslaught, teasing, stroking him with her tongue before taking him deep in her mouth.
He hissed, teeth bared.
His body jerked as a tremor rolled down his spine. Hands tangled tight in her hair, his hips bucked, control slipping. Blood pounded in his head. Breath ripped out of his lungs.
He wanted.
He craved.
He needed to be—
In her.
“Not like this.” His words came out muffled. His body was tense and ready to explode. “Damn it,” he swore and roughly hauled her up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, and licked her swollen lips.
That image didn’t help his brain one bit. He groaned and kissed her. “Inside,” he said against her lips. “I want to be inside you when I come. When we both come.” He broke away to strip out of the rest of his clothes, which he did in less than five seconds.
“But…”
“No buts.” Dropping to his knees, he brought her down with him and gently pushed her back against the rug before him. He stared down at her in nothing except for the glowing embers licking her skin. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
His heart clenched. They grew up together. He’d been her protector, her friend, but his favorite had always been what they were now. Lovers. Owning her heart.
Arms stretched out at her sides, she gave him a smile, her brown eyes melting away all of his defenses. “You said something about fucking.”
He removed his glasses and closed his eyes for a second, then brought her into focus. One finger trailed down her stomach to between her thighs and found her warm and wet. She arched her back, already making those noises he loved. When he slid a finger inside her delicate spot, she gasped and opened her legs wider for him.
Pulling him to her, she kissed him, and he let himself sink into the kiss, into her, willingly drowning in her heat.
“This is beyond fucking,” he said against her lips. Cradled by her open thighs, he lost himself inside her. “So much more.”
She moaned his name and nothing had ever turned him on more than this woman, and how she was with him. His. Their chemistry staggered him. It stole his breath and annihilated his heart. She was designed for him, and he for her. Cupping her sweet ass, he thrust into her slow and steady, and for the first time in over a month his world started to make sense.
Everything felt right. It wasn’t about regrets, the years lost, or any of the other shit going on around him.
It all came down to Claire. As it always would.
He wanted their infinity. He wanted to be with her. Talking, touching, fucking--whatever--a home, family, love—anything. He wanted it all with her. She had become his sanctuary. His…everything.
“More,” she said in a soft, throaty voice. “Please.” Accompanying this sexy little please, she made a restless circular motion and lifted her hips so that he could sink in deeper.
Shit! That felt good. He groaned. “Do that again.”
She writhed against him and he lost the tenuous grip on his control.
He could run for miles, spar with Blake for hours and not feel the exertion much. Now in her arms, buried in her body, his breath was coming in ragged pants. He reared up on his hands, back arched to get as deep as he could as he began to move. When she cried out his name, begging for more, he gave it.
“So good.” His mouth found hers, swallowing her cries as he thrust into her. A little gasp escaped her lips. He loved it. Running a hand under her knee, he lifted her leg up to wrap around him so he could get even deeper. She stayed right with him as he claimed her.
He moved harder and faster inside her. Their ragged breathing melded. Their bodies molded, becoming one, her hips moved with his, urging him on. She felt so fucking good.
“Oh, Forrest,” she cried and clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders as she exploded.
Watching her in her throes sent him spiraling. A rush of hot pleasure raced through his body so fiercely that his arms trembled. He dropped his head with a rough groan, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he completely lost himself.
In her.
So good. That was his only thought as he went flying higher than he’d ever been. So good, so damn fucking good…
Chapter Twenty-Four
“To hide the key to your heart is to risk forgetting where you placed it.”
Timothy Childers
Two days later after basking in the essence of Claire, Forrest entered his parents’ house and headed down the hall to his father’s office. Not that he actually listened to Charles. He was here because no matter what, Marjorie was his mother.
On top of that, he had questions.
He needed answers.
Avoidance, the maladaptive coping mechanism that worked so well for him after Claire left, wouldn’t provide a solution. Learning that his father had known all along about the details of his mother’s pregnancy and asked two people to make an immeasurable sacrifice plagued his mind.
He pushed the office door open and flipped the light switch, bringing life to the otherwise noiseless room. He glanced around. Everything was still untouched. Several stacks of paperwork, pens in a tin on the mahogany desk, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with books leaning against one another in the same direction.
Everything was neat. In order. Just like Luc had been.
His gut tightened. Memories awakened, echoes of his youth jarred his mind. Suddenly swimming once more in the tide waters of the past, he took urgent strides toward his father’s library bursting with books and photo albums, and scanned the collection. Luc had been one of the last ones standing who still loved the touch and feel of a picture instead of storing them in the cloud where they eventually became an afterthought. He passed that appreciation on to Forrest.
Right now, he desperately needed memories of the man he loved and admired to stay with him, to soothe him, because the bad ones threatened to erase all traces of the things he held dear. Snatching three photo albums in no particular order, he walked over to the pristine desk with the attitude of a soldier returning to the battlefield. He sat on the swivel chair, gave his glasses a little push up his nose, and opened the first book.
He flipped through the first album and stopped at a picture of his mother cradling him, a smile of joy on her lips. He couldn’t have been more than two, his head covered with a thick mass of dark, wavy hair. Luc and Charles were by her side, their index fingers clutched in Forrest’s chubby hands, faces beaming with delight. No sign of tension, jealousy, or betrayal.
Sorrow reached inside and pulled his guts out with bare hands. The cadence of his heart picked up momentum.
Ignoring the palpitations, he turned the page. Another picture caught his eyes, this one he remembered as if it was taken yesterday. He’d been six at a family vacation with the Montgomery’s in Majorca with the Mediterranean Sea in the background. Subconsciously, he wiggled his toes in his boots. He could still hear the waves of the ocean and feel the sand coating his toes. Once again, his eyes were drawn to the picture of Jason and him sitting between Charles and Luc, staring at the sea. Unbeknownst to them, his mother had captured the shot. Victoria had stayed behind in the house.
Clear, episodic memories flashed in his mind, kindling mental images of a time gone. He pressed on and flipped throu
gh each album, closely analyzing each print. Kindergarten graduation, birthday parties, all the major events of his formative years, Charles was always within his peripheral vision. Forrest never made much of it since Jason and he were the same age, attended the same school until college, it made sense to always have both of their fathers around. But there were those moments, his college graduation, medical school graduation, his time at the Montgomery compound at Charles’ request.
Vivid, clear-edged memories of his life spiraled in pattern. Each one consisted of minute details of Charles in some form or another. Even when he thought of Claire, it came back to Charles, all the way down to his middle name.
Everything in his life came back to Charles Montgomery.
His godfather.
He chuckled at the irony. The lie of the role.
In retrospect Charles was always around, in the shadows, looking furtively through a narrow opening. Close but never close enough.
Pain throbbed violently around his skull, like a toothache in his brain, right between his eyes. Forrest took off his glasses and rubbed the middle of his forehead. His mind running wild with What ifs.
What if his father had left his mother?
What if Charles had left Victoria?
What if his mother had married Charles?
What if they had told him the truth from the get go?
What if…
His head hurt.
“This is for you.” His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked up at her. She appeared better than last time he saw her. Her gray eyes had a little more life, almost as if she had accepted fate and was finally moving forward.
He took the envelope she held out to him. “Thanks.”
“Rosa told me Claire has been staying with you.”
He nodded. “She has.”
His mother smiled. “You’ve forgiven her. Perhaps one day you can forgive me.”
“I understand why she left. I don’t understand all of this.”
She glanced at the envelope in his hand. “It’s from your father. Luc,” she added for clarification.
None was needed. In his heart, Luc would always be his father.
“I’ve wanted to give this to you, but you’ve been so angry.”
Discovering your life was filled with lies and secrets tended to do that to a person. But he pursed his lips and kept his temper in check He watched her walk to the door. She had the posture of a ballet dancer, strong, erect, and graceful. At the door, she stopped and turned to look at him once more. The residue of regret flickered in her eyes. It made his heart ache because as Charles said, there were two women he’d loved unconditionally. One was at Vapor practicing for her event tonight and the other was staring at him. “Do you need help with anything?”
A smile touched her lips. “No. Everything is in order.”
He almost laughed at the contradiction of the word, because nothing in their lives was in order. “I’m going to start coming here every day if you need anything.”
She nodded. “Yes, Charles told me about that.”
“He did, huh?” The man was full of himself, a trait that always annoyed the hell out of Forrest.
“Forrest…” she started in a pleading voice.
He put up a hand. “No need to explain.”
She nodded. “Should I make us a late lunch?”
He had a lunch date with Claire, but he studied his mother, and decided if things went right, he’d have a lifetime with Claire. All the pieces once scattered seemed to have glued back together. Except the she’s leaving again bit, but he was still trying to figure out where that piece might fit in the puzzle.
Could he ask her to stay?
Would that be selfish on his part?
What if she said no?
His stomach tightened into a series of rolling knots. Not wanting to examine his situation with Claire too closely, he decided they had time. A full week.
The anger he’d carried was weighing him down. That he needed to deal with immediately. For starters, work on mending the broken relationship with his mother. “I’ll be there in a little.” Once alone, he sent a text to Claire.
Have to cancel lunch. Still at the farm. See you back at Lake Tashmoo.
Her response came quick.
Everything okay? Need me?
A smile touched his lips. He’d always need her.
All’s well. See you at home.
After a minute of silence to garner his strength, Forrest opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper. He put on his glasses, and brought the words into focus.
Dear Forrest,
My mouth tastes of sadness as I write this note. My eyes are full of tears because the day you read this means I am no longer around. It also means you have found out I am not your biological father.
First and foremost, please accept my most sincere apology for withholding something like this from you for so long. You’re my son. I love you. I carry you in my heart. I am so proud of the man you’ve become.
I hope you can continue to love me, carry me in your heart, and stay proud of me.
Like everyone else, I wasn’t perfect. Actually, I could be inconsiderate and when it comes to you, my only concern was my own personal pleasure. Call me selfish because no matter from which angle you look at it, I robbed a man, a friend, of a chance to raise his son. I didn’t even do it out of spite. While I was angry over what occurred, I learned to forgive…because of love. I love Charles like a brother. I love my wife. They both love me.
‘To err is human; to forgive, divine.’
It is natural to make mistakes and it is important to forgive people when they do. We made a mistake by not telling you everything, but alas we are only humans.
Charles loves you. He always has. Your mother loves you. I love you.
Quite a conundrum, don’t you think? For one person to be surrounded by so much love, to have two fathers, a best friend who happens to be his brother.
From what I know of my son, I am sure your world has been rocked. Like me, you like order and control. I ask that you let go. Stop overthinking. You can’t control everything. Sometimes not being in control is the most beautiful thing in the world.
It was selfish of me to ask Charles to let me raise you as my own and never gave him a chance to be the father he wanted to be to you. From time to time I’d catch the longing in his eyes, but you know Charles. He’s a man of steel.
The greatest sacrifice is when someone forfeits his own happiness for the sake of someone else. Giving up a child he obviously wanted was the ultimate offering to cheer my heart. I know he did it out of guilt over what happened with Marjorie, but he also wanted to give me the one thing I desired most and could never have on my own. A child. That my son is the ultimate gift.
I ask that you eventually forgive each one of us. Remember forgiveness doesn't excuse our behavior, but it will prevent our behavior from destroying your heart.
I love you…
Aujourd’hui, Demain, Toujours.
Your father.
Since his whole body was shaking, he dropped the letter on the desk and stared at it until he couldn’t anymore. Then in choked desolation, he buried his face in his hands.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“When confronted with a challenge, the committed heart will search for a solution. The undecided heart searches for an escape.”
Forrest Montgomery Desvareaux
Forrest pushed and shoved through the endless sea of people to the back of the room where his friends stood watching the madness. Leaning on the wall next to Adam, he scanned the cramped space. The atmosphere was one of elation—infectious grins, longtime friends and strangers shaking hands, patting one another on the back.
“This is crazy,” he said, not speaking to any one in particular.
Adam laughed and tightened his grip around his very pregnant wife. “Your girlfriend is a star. People love her.”
“Is this your first time seeing C
laire in action?” Lily asked, tucked safely in Adam’s arms.
Forrest started to shake his head, but other than the few highlights he caught on television, this was his first time getting an intimate view of Claire’s world. “I guess it is.”
Keely leaned into him so that she could be heard over the strident timbre of voices. “You’re in for a treat. She’s awesome live.”
Jason appeared on the stage. Palpable excitement zapped through the air, electrified buzz of voices charged the room. His friend raised a hand, commanding attention. A hush fell over the crowd.
“This is a great night, not only for Vapor, but for Martha’s Vineyard,” Jason said into the microphone. “For the first time Claire Peters is performing on the island. Let’s show her some love and welcome her home.”
A cacophony of applause burst forth.
“Ladies and gentleman, I give to you my friend, my sister, the talented and beautiful Claire.” Jason’s voice thundered over the crowd.
Anticipation hung in the air. The lights dimmed. Cheers erupted like an auditory volcano. Smoke twisted on the stage, forming wispy curls in the half-lit room. Forrest’s eyes glued to the podium. She appeared, illuminated only by speckled lights from the ceiling. All quieted. Forrest’s heart smashed around in his chest.
She took a step forward, hypnotizing the crowd in a deep, plunging dress that barely covered her ass. She looked sexy hot and every bit the star she was. Head high, she scanned the crowd then gave a slight bow. Another round of acclamation started and the crowd began to chant her name.
She owned the room.
Hard to believe this was the same woman who had her hands pressed on the floor-to-ceiling window in his living room less than one hour ago. With the ocean as their view, he had scraped her thong to the side for quick access and dived home. Heaven on earth. Forrest shifted and told his other head to calm down. This was going to be a long night.
