by Jessie Lane
“No.”
She froze in front of me at my answer. “No?”
“No.”
“Why no?”
“Because, if I let you out that door, then you’ll go back to this little game you’ve been playing at avoiding me and, baby, I’m tired of the fucking game.”
Belle’s mouth dropped open as she stared back at me in shock, mixed with resentment. A moment of silence passed between us before she angrily hissed, “You think I’m playing a game with you?”
My heart was thundering in my chest. This was it. Finally! Finally, we were going to have this come-to-Jesus talk that was so overdue between us that if that talk itself had been a library book, the late fee would resemble the national debt.
Planting my hands on my hips, I growled, “You trying to tell me that you haven’t been playing some kind of game? You disappear for fifteen years without so much as a clue to where you’re headed, then waltz back into my life and try to pretend I don’t exist? You don’t have the kind of love we had, Belle. Hell, you don’t have a man like me—who’s had his mouth on you, his cock in you—and then pretend like he doesn’t exist. Now, I’m telling you, I’m tired of this game and I’m tired of fucking waiting for you to give me a second of your time so that we can talk about this shit.”
Throwing her hands up in the air, she stumbled backwards a few steps and then screeched, “There’s nothing to talk about, Bobby! Besides, I didn't have the man's mouth and cock. I had the boy's. There's a difference. A man, a real man that is, keeps his promises. Like the ones he made to come back. A boy hasn't grown up enough to realize how important promises are to keep.”
My whole body jerked as if she’d slapped me in the face. It might have been words spoken instead of physical actions, but her accusation, sure as shit, had hit me hard enough to feel physical. Ignoring the way my airway suddenly felt closed off, I rasped, “I fucked up. I get that. I tried to make it right. Hell, I’m still trying to make it right. But. You. Won’t. Let. Me.”
The next thing I knew, she had her hand in my face, like she could stop the words coming out of my mouth as long as that hand was there to block them, which was a joke because, at the moment, she was so drunk that she couldn’t stop a fly from landing on her. The momentum of throwing her hand in my face had caused her to start a slow lean to the right and she didn’t look like that lean was going to stop until she was face first in the carpet. If she didn’t stop flailing around like this, she was going to fall and hurt herself. “Stay still and calm down.”
Ignoring me, she continued waving her arms around. “Don’t you get it? We’ve been over for fifteen years!”
Her body tipped dangerously the other way and, for a second, I thought for sure she was going to go head first into the wall now, instead of the carpet. The thought of her accidentally hurting herself was driving me crazy. I ground out between my teeth, “Calm down and give me your attention, dammit.”
Instead of doing as I asked, she screeched, “What in the world do you think we need to talk about?”
I grabbed her by the hips to keep her from falling on her ass. The gesture clearly wasn’t appreciated since she started trying to pry my hands off her. Ignoring her attempts to remove me, I pulled her closer until we were only an inch apart and she had no choice except to look me in the face.
The pupils were dilated in those big, beautiful, green eyes of hers. She was panting and clearly more nervous than outraged. Most of all, she was vulnerable and doing her best to hide it. What she didn’t understand, yet, was that I had no intentions of hurting that vulnerable side of her. I wanted to do the exact opposite. I wanted to protect it and her, so that nothing could ever hurt her again the way I had.
“Do I have your attention now?”
Eyes wide, she nodded.
“Good, now listen closely because this is important and I want to make sure that it penetrates somewhere through that thick skull of yours. We were never over, Belle, not as far as I’m concerned. Maybe on hold until I found you again, but never really over. I’ve been looking for you since the day you left Sylvania so I could tell you that I fucked up. I should have never sent you that letter.”
Belle’s breathing was ragged now. Eyes watery, threatening tears at any given second. Still, she didn’t say a word.
“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, baby? I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I was so fucking stupid and I will go to my grave regretting how badly I hurt you, but I didn’t just hurt you, I hurt us both. I’ve been walking around all these years in pain with what feels like these chunks of my soul missing. Moving through life with a heart that felt as if it wasn’t actually beating and how could it? It wasn’t possible because everything that was ever good about me was missing and it was missing because I didn’t have you.”
Tears were streaming down her face now. She face planted into my chest as sobs racked her body uncontrollably. I’d started worrying that I’d messed this all up more than fixed it because she was seriously drunk and crying so goddamn hard that it wasn’t possible for her to breathe. If I hadn’t been holding her up, she would be a heap on the floor.
Raising my hands to frame her face, I tipped it gently back, wiped the tears away, and then made sure she was looking in my eyes again before I continued, “What I’m trying to say, Belle, is that I still lov-“
Just like that and she was on me. Practically climbing up my body with her own, causing me to stumble backwards until I landed against the door. Her lips slammed into mine as she forcefully thrust her tongue into my mouth; it was desperate and wild. She was holding onto me with her hands as if she was terrified to let me go and let me finish my sentence. That bothered me, too, but she felt so good against me that I couldn’t bring myself to push her away and ask her why she didn’t want to hear me say the words. Her soft tongue tangled with mine and the taste of whisky, beer and her own sweet essence was a heady combination that sent my senses whirling. One of her hands slid up into my hair just like she used to do when we were younger and, in that moment, I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven.
Moving on autopilot, my hands slid down her back, over her behind and didn’t stop until they hit the tops of her thighs which allowed me to pick her up so that she was pressed tight against me. She wrapped those sexy legs of hers around my waist and I held onto her by her lush bottom, an ass cheek in each hand, while I walked us quickly forward until my knees hit the edge of the bed. Holding her tightly, never stopping the hungry kisses, I moved us gently down onto the bed until she lay underneath me and I was settled between her thighs. Her kisses were starting to become a bit sloppier, but that didn’t stop me from appreciating the feel of her lips on my own.
I thought that when she’d used my nickname earlier that life couldn’t get any sweeter. I was wrong. So very wrong. Holding her like this, kissing her like it was the most important thing I would ever do, I knew this would never be enough. I would always want more. Want to feel the soft glide of her bare skin against my own. Want to use my hands to pet and stroke her body until she was burning up from the inside-out for me. Need to kiss her all over so there wasn’t a spot on her left untouched by my mouth. Feel her surrounding me in every sense of the word for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t do any of those things, though. Not now while she was so drunk that she could try and use this night to keep me at arm’s length again tomorrow.
I let more of my body weight settle on top of her so that I became too heavy for her to grind against me anymore; effectively trapping her beneath me. Then I started to slow our kisses down so that, eventually—after a few aggravated growls on her part—we were now enjoying each other’s touches with long, lingering effects instead of racing towards something else. Her body started to relax into the bed, the movement of her hands moving up and down my back becoming sluggish, and I knew she was moments from passing out from the alcohol.
Pulling away from her lips, she gave a soft mewl of disappointment, and then quieted when I rolled to my s
ide, taking her with me. My right arm became a pillow for her head and my left arm clamped tightly around her waist, pressing her soft curves into my front. I should have loosened my grip, giving her a little breathing room, but I didn’t want to take the chance that she’d try to get away from me again, so I didn’t. Belle buried her face against my chest as I felt both of her hands fist the fabric of my shirt. Kissing the top of her head, I patiently waited while her body’s weight slowly turned into dead weight against me and she started slipping into sleep.
Just when I thought she was out, she mumbled into my chest. Slowly rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her, I felt her raise her face up a little before she mumbled, “Missed you, Ace. I’m so, so sorry.”
Is she awake and trying to talk to me after all? My heart skips a beat at her admission that she missed me because I’ve missed her so fucking much, too. Pulling back, I looked down at her face, but it was slack with sleep, except for the cute little furrow between her eyebrows. She’s talking in her sleep. Well, at least her subconscious was willing to admit that she missed me, but what in the hell could she be sorry for? I was the asshole that screwed it all up between us.
Chapter Six
Annabelle
Ugh. It felt like there was a drum set playing in my head. Also, why was the bed moving underneath me? Gingerly cracking open one eyelid, the first thing I realized was that it was still dark out. Not just in the room, but also outside since there was no light peeking around the curtains across the room from me. Curtains that looked absolutely nothing like the ones I had in my bedroom. The next thing I noticed was that I was not lying on a bed, but on a body.
Sweet baby Jesus, what had I done last night?
I let my eyes slowly drift up the gray t-shirt that covered a thickly muscled chest and, oh boy, it was a nice chest, until I was looking at a man’s neck and the underside of a solid, prominent jaw. Realizing who that jaw belonged to meant I had good news and I had bad news. The good news was, I knew who this incredible chest that I was lying on was, so I wasn’t sleeping with a stranger, which would have been a first for me. The bad news was, I knew who the incredible chest I’d been sleeping on belonged to and, apparently, drooling on since I was now looking back down to that incredible chest and the wet spot there that stood out where my mouth had been positioned. It was Bobby Baker. How in the Holy Hell did I end up in bed with Bobby?
Looking down to my own body, I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw that I still had clothes on. Of course, there was a small part of me that was also disappointed that I had clothes on, but as the Rolling Stones were famous for saying, you can’t always get what you want. Despite all the hurt between us, what I’d always wanted desperately was Bobby. Hazy memories started to develop as I watched him sleep. Fuzzy snippets where he said the things I’d dreamt of him saying to me in my loneliest moments through the years.
I should have never sent you that letter.
Eight words I’d never thought I’d hear, along with an apology and his attempt to tell me he still loved me. One would think that those words would be exactly what I wanted and—in a way—they were, but they were also the last thing I wanted because a letter and a broken heart weren’t the only things between us. There were secrets between us, too. Only Bobby didn’t know about them yet.
When he found out the truth, the tides would change. Instead of looking at me with hope and love shining in his eyes, he would look at me with anger and betrayal. My carefully constructed world was about to be blown to bits because I knew—down to the bottom of my heart—that I had no choice except telling him the truth now. It was easy to justify the secrets when I was able to hold onto the hurt and miles between us. Now that he was here and had apologized, I was drowning in the realization that I had well and truly screwed up big time.
There was certainly no coming back from what I’d done. The only thing that hurt more right now than the knowledge that Bobby would well and truly hate me soon was the what if thoughts. What if I’d done it all differently back then? What if I’d stayed in Sylvania? Things might be different now, but there was no going back. No time machine to help me right my wrongs. No, all I had was this moment to cherish before the sun would rise on my problems and my life would once again be irrevocably changed forever. So I was going to grab onto this moment with him with both hands and make the most of it. Make enough memories to last me a lifetime before he walked away from me for good.
Sitting up slowly on the bed, I looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand that said—in glowing red numbers—that it was four o’clock in the morning. Hopefully, he wasn’t a morning person because that could blow the plan forming in my head to bits. Brushing the worry away, I maneuvered myself carefully out of the bed until I was standing on the floor next to it. The room wasn’t exactly spinning from the hangover I had, but I was a bit fuzzy in the brain. It wasn’t enough to stop me from what I wanted to do, though. I was watching him like a hawk for the smallest indication that he would wake up, but he didn’t move. Glancing to the door of the room, I debated leaving. It might be for the best. What I was about to do would only hurt us both further after everything came to light.
Though, when I looked back at Bobby’s sleeping form, I couldn’t make my feet move towards the exit. It was selfish and it was going to exacerbate all of my problems, but I needed this from him. Needed to feel that connection that I knew would still be there once we started touching each other. Wanted to feel, for just a little while, the depths of his affections in the most fundamental way before everything crashed down around me again. Perhaps it would make him hate me more later, but then, that might be for the best, as well. What I’d done was unforgivable, and I didn’t deserve what I was about to give myself in his arms, but I was going to take it anyway.
Deciding not to waste any more time, I peeled my shirt off over my head. Then, with swift, but still somewhat wobbly movements, I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them over my hips and down my legs along with my panties until they pooled at my feet around my cowboy boots. Slipping my feet out of my boots, I stepped out of them to peel my socks off. Finally, I snapped open the front enclosure of my bra and slid it down my arms and off my body. I stood there, fully exposed for a moment, watching his dreaming eyes move around under his closed eyelids.
Was he dreaming of me? Imagining a life for us where we could be old and gray, sitting in a swing on a front porch somewhere, while we watched future grandchildren playing? Thinking up a life where we would always be together instead of apart? These were all things that I’d dreamed of over the years. It was nice to think that maybe he’d dreamt those things, too. They were also things that would never happen.
Making myself move before I lost my courage, I carefully crawled back across the bed to minimize moving it around and then positioned myself so that I was straddling his prone body. It was probably a small miracle that I’d managed to do all of that without losing my balance, falling on top of him, and making a jackass out of myself. His eyelids twitched and he groaned as my movements jostled the bed, causing him to start being brought into consciousness.
Setting my trembling hands on his stomach, slipping my thumbs underneath the edge of his shirt, I slowly started to push the fabric up to reveal his body to me in slow, agonizing inches. There was a small, dark line from his happy trail that disappeared into his jeans. Continuing to move the shirt up, I revealed a tan, defined six-pack that begged me to trace it with my lips, so I did. His abdomen gave an involuntary spasm at the touch and he mumbled something incoherent. My hands kept moving his shirt up, with my lips skimming over the skin I revealed along the way, until I was past his stomach and pushing fabric just over his small, brown nipples. That’s when two strong hands grabbed my wrists to stop my progress. Lifting my face from where I’d been kissing his skin, I couldn’t help smiling at his drowsy, confused face.
His voice rumbled low, “What are you doing?”
“Making a memory.”
He sho
ok his head. “I won’t take advantage of you, Belle. You had too much to drink last night and you’re probably still out of it.”
Leaning back down, I placed another kiss, followed by a slow, swirling lick to one of his nipples. Every muscle in his body locked up underneath me and he gave a hiss. Peeking back up at him through my lashes, I stopped long enough to say, “I’m not drunk and I’m not out of it. Trust me when I say, I’m completely in this moment with you.”
Those stunning blue eyes of his watched me with intense scrutiny; judging the sincerity of my words. Not waiting to see what his decision would be, I closed the distance between us and kissed him with all the ferocity of my emotions. His lips were hesitant at first, but when I traced his full, bottom lip with my tongue, silently asking for entrance to his mouth, he gave in on a groan and kissed me back. His hands came up to tangle in my hair while I slipped one of my hands down to the fly of his jeans. When his jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and I had pushed them halfway down his butt, I broke off our kiss as my hands shoved under his t-shirt, pulling it up quickly over his upper body and whipping it off to throw it over my shoulder somewhere behind me.
Bobby lay back down on the bed and watched my hands as they slowly traced the dips and grooves of his muscles. He’d had definition at eighteen. Now, at thirty-three, he had more of everything to define. Scooting down the bed, keeping my hands on his body as they moved over his pecs, his six-pack, skirting around his erection that was already thick and laying up to his belly button, I moved my hands over his built thighs until I knelt down on the bed by his feet and was looking up the length of his body. Yes, everything on him was bigger now.
Pulling his jeans down his legs, then dropping them over the end of the bed and onto the floor, I never took my eyes off his body. Everything about Bobby was utterly breathtaking. Looking back up to his face, my eyes locked onto him like I was a heat-seeking missile and he was the target. I couldn’t blink because, if I opened my eyes and this disappeared because it was some dream, I would never recover. So, staring into his bright blue depths, I started sliding back up the bed, between Bobby’s legs. Starting from the inside of his knees, up to just below his groin, I used my nails to scratch his skin; not hard enough to break the skin, but I was certainly going to leave my mark. His swollen, full length twitched as I moved closer to it and hovered over him.
