Bittersweet Surrender

by Q. B. Tyler

  “Baby, look at me,” he says cupping my cheek with one hand and putting a hand under my back pulling me closer to him. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Mmmm,” I repeat letting my eyes flutter open and then shut again. “Tell me something.”

  He shuts his eyes slowly before opening them. “Leave him, Charley. Please. I know it’s going to be hard, but just…leave him. Because I’m miserable every second I’m not with you.”

  * * *

  WARM LIPS GHOST OVER MY cheek and down my shoulder, rousing me from sleep. A smile creeps onto my face before I’m even fully awake.

  “So beautiful.” I hear the words murmured in my ear before his lips start a new trail of kisses successfully turning my sore and thoroughly fucked body to mush.

  My eyes flutter open and all I see is his perfect head of hair as his lips move down my arm.

  “Hi,” I whisper so quietly, I’m not sure if he heard it, but his head jerks.

  “You’re awake.” He moves up my body so that we’re face-to-face, and he rubs his nose against mine before pressing a short kiss on my mouth. “Morning, baby.” Will’s used the term of endearment before, but something about waking up in bed with him makes my heart skip a beat. “How did you sleep?”

  “The best I have in a while…” I smile. “I wonder why. How long have you been up?”

  “Not long. I was going to wake you, but you looked so peaceful. I didn’t have the heart to take that from you.”

  Somewhere in there is a metaphor and it shakes me to my very core.

  I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fact that I’ve literally welcomed the chaos into my house and my bed. “Next time, wake me. I don’t want to waste a second with you.” I roll him to his back and move on top of him to straddle him. I’m naked as the day I was born, and you’d think he’d never seen me this way by the way he’s eyeing me.

  “I was going to make you breakfast, but you don’t have a lot of food…” His fingers play with my nipple.

  “We eat out a lot. I used to cook. You know this. But I got tired of eating every meal by myself.” I shrug. “Matt’s barely been home all week, and I’ve been staying out of the house.”

  He nods knowingly, as if he could have predicted my words. “Well, we could go get something?”

  I shake my head. “I know too many people in the community. Well, too many people know me…too many people know my husband.” I correct myself and wish I would have just said Matt after I catch the fleeting look that crosses Will’s face. “Wait a minute, you can cook?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.

  “I am a man of many talents, Charley.” He raises an eyebrow at me and I giggle at his playfulness.

  “Oh, I’m fully aware of your talents, but I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “A man’s gotta eat, you know.”

  “I would cook for you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can catch them.

  “I would be home for every meal.” He gives me a sad smile, and he must sense the feeling of dread that takes over my body as the blaring thought shoots through my brain.

  That fantasy may never be a reality.

  “But,” he continues, “I think I spotted some eggs in your fridge. I can do something with that.”

  “I can put an order in for some groceries and have them delivered.” I move off of him to reach for my phone.

  “Delivered?”

  I cock my head. “Yes, you’ve never had groceries delivered?” I didn’t do it often, but sometimes it really was easier than having to go out.

  He chuckles as he gets off the bed, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips exposing the perfect V cut that I loved to run my tongue over. “No. Call me one of the mere common folk that still goes into the grocery store.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a dig or more playful sarcasm, but I let it go when I see him pulling a shirt on. “Where are you going?”

  “To make you some coffee.” He presses a kiss to my lips, like he’s leaving the state and not just the bedroom, before releasing me. “Order some bacon and something hearty for later. If we’re going to continue what we started last night, we’re going to need sustenance.” He winks before he disappears out of the bedroom.

  The next two days are nothing short of perfect. It is as if Will and I are on our honeymoon.

  We certainly fucked like it.

  It is nice not having to worry about rushing against the clock and being able to savor every kiss, every touch, every thrust. The few times we do sleep, it isn’t for long as one of us would wake up, our sweaty limbs still tangled together from falling asleep in each other’s embrace and wake the other, demanding the connection our bodies so desperately crave.

  Will cancels his sessions, and luckily only had my session scheduled for Friday, so with Matt being away it was also cancelled. Will and I spend the days defiling almost every inch of my house with the exception of my marital bed. The fact that I’m engaging in my affair, in the house my husband pays for, adds a new layer of guilt to my betrayal.

  Every time I pass my bedroom, I could almost hear the whisper ghosting over my ears.

  Cheater.

  You’re a cheater, Charlotte.

  Now, three days after Will showed up at my back door, he’s gone, and Matt will be home soon from his business trip. Matt had left a day earlier than planned, and so he’s coming home Saturday rather than Sunday, which means I have to wait two excruciatingly long days to see Will again.

  I still haven’t told Will that I love him too. Although I do love him, where does that leave us? Am I preparing to leave my husband? Are Will and I going to be together? I’d told him that I need time to process, and he needed to think about his words as well—but he couldn’t think about them while he was inside of me.

  Is this what he really wants? Or is he just caught up in the passionate sex we have? Does he really want to be with me? Or does he just not want me to be with Matt?

  God, I’m a cliché. Could I leave my husband? How would I even do it?

  Sorry, Matt, I met someone else?

  My thoughts are interrupted by a slam of a car door and my heart sinks, knowing that it’s back to reality. I’m worried about how Matt is going to respond to seeing me considering how vulnerable I was before he left. The kiss we shared runs through my mind, and all I can do is hope that he won’t want to pick up where we left off.

  I’m in the den reading a book, when I feel his presence in the room. I look up to meet his gaze, and despite the layers of clothes I had put on just for the occasion, he’s staring at me as if I’m completely nude, his eyes raking lasciviously over my body.

  “Charlotte.” He closes the space between us and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me and burying his nose in my hair. I can hear the deep breath he takes as he inhales my scent, and despite the two showers I’ve taken since Will left, I wonder if he can smell him on me.

  I wonder if men, like animals can detect when there has been an invasion of their space.

  “I missed you so much.” He pulls away before he tilts my face up and kisses me hard on the mouth. I gasp at the aggression allowing his tongue to attack mine. Within a second, I’m being lifted into his arms.

  Fuck, this is what I was afraid of. Pick a fight, Charley. Pick a fucking fight. QUICK.

  He carries me up the stairs and deposits me on the bed before he’s on me instantly.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for the past two days.” Maybe I should just do it now. Why prolong the inevitable? But…is it inevitable? Is being with Will the endgame? Once I do this, there’s no going back.

  “Matt,” I say, his lips finally leaving mine, allowing me a chance to speak, but the words fail me. His lips are on my neck immediately, so I put my hands against his chest and push gently. “How was your trip?”

  Coward.

  “Long. Exhausting. I couldn’t stop thinking about being inside of you. Baby, it’s been too long, and kissing you before I left…
I remembered how good it was between us.” He stands and pulls off his jacket and begins to unbutton his shirt.

  Sure, for you. “Matt, I did some thinking while you were gone.”

  “Oh? About what?” He tosses his shirt toward the corner of the room and kneels back on the bed, crawling toward me.

  “Us.”

  “What about it?” he continues, and I back up slowly so as to not be in a position where I’m underneath him.

  “I think…I think maybe you were right about therapy. Maybe it’s not working,” I stammer, hoping it will halt his journey toward me. “Or maybe it’s not really the therapy. Maybe it’s us. We’re not working. We don’t work anymore.”

  He stops and I can’t escape the relief that moves through me. “What? Charlotte, why are you saying this?”

  “Because I enjoyed you being gone far too much,” I say honestly, and wince at the harshness of my words, but I need to get his mind away from trying to be intimate with me. And if he’s mad or hurt maybe he won’t want me.

  He looks at me as if I’ve just slapped him across the face, and I guess in a way, I did. “You were all over my dick two days ago, what the fuck happened?”

  “I was vulnerable. We had just rehashed all the skeletons of our pasts and then you up and left me there—”

  “You said you were fine,” he interrupts, his voice hard and cold and suddenly I don’t feel so guilty anymore. This was the man I was used to.

  “If that helps you sleep at night, Matt, fine. But you knew I wasn’t. Things were already precarious between us, and then we talked about Michael. My heart had been split wide open reliving what happened, and you up and left five minutes later as if you didn’t know the effect it had on me…has on me.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “But you also know I wasn’t going to ask you to stay,” I continue. “You made your decision. Not that I think it would have made a difference one way or the other. We keep putting Band-Aids on our problems instead of really trying to solve them.”

  “I am trying, Charlotte. I’ve been trying for months. I’ll admit I wasn’t at first, but ever since we started therapy, I’ve really made an effort. You’ve been the one fighting me.”

  I sigh, wondering how I’m even going to argue that. He’s right, ever since I started my affair with Will, I’ve been less than enthusiastic about reconciliation. I don’t have a reply, so I fix my gaze on a spot on the wall behind him.

  My mind begins to spin. Say I leave Matthew and things with Will don’t work out, then I’m completely alone. Is it worth my safety and security for a wild card romance? What if our whole relationship is fueled by just the thrill of the forbidden? What if it doesn’t work when our relationship is more than just stolen moments and kisses? What if the spark between Will and me dies along with my marriage to Matt?

  All of the what-ifs are blaring in my brain and I wish I could quiet the questions for just a minute. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m glad you’re home,” I say, as I make my way off the bed and begin to walk through our bedroom. I’ve taken two steps before my back is against the wall and my husband is towering over me.

  I know he’d never lay a finger on me, so I’m not worried about that. No, I’m more worried that he’s about to drop to his knees and beg. Frankly, in this moment, I’m not sure which is worse.

  “Talk to me,” he implores, his pleading eyes boring into mine. “Tell me why you’ve put this wall up. Why are you keeping me out? What do I have to do to be close to you?” His hands slide down the wall and onto my shoulders before they creep toward my chest. His hands find my breasts, palming them through my t-shirt before he slides them down my body and around to my back. Within seconds his hands are on my ass, cupping me through my pants.

  I reach behind me to grab his hands and remove them when one moves between my legs. “Let me make you feel good, baby.” You can’t. I know what his hand is trying to do and my heart begins to race at the idea of him touching my most intimate places.

  “Stop!” I say, pushing hard against his chest, and his hand that was trying to make its way into my pants is removed from my body. “I don’t want…” I narrow my eyes and I fear the tears will come at any moment.

  Not because of this argument with my husband, but because I feel sick that my husband’s hands were all over my body. When it belongs to Will.

  I wake up Monday morning, cranky, my mood matching the dreary, gray day outside when I feel warmth beside me. It must be early if Matt is still asleep, but when I check my phone and see that it’s a quarter past eight, I frown. What is he still doing here? I tap him a few times with my index finger and he groans.

  “What, Charlotte?”

  “Do you know how late it is?”

  “How late is it?” he asks, as he turns to face me, his eyes still closed.

  “Eight thirty.”

  “Okay?”

  “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “I’m working from home,” he says turning back over.

  Great. How am I supposed to see Will before our session?

  “Oh.” I fling the covers back and make my way into our en-suite bathroom, trying not to stomp toward it like a child who isn’t getting her way. In the bathroom, I take my aggression out on my teeth, jabbing the brush in and out of my mouth.

  This is fucking ridiculous.

  I lean over to spit and when I stand I feel his presence behind me, his morning wood pressing into my back. I turn around and look at him and he gives me a shy smile.

  “I’m going to shower, join me?”

  Jesus, Matt, you haven’t been this pushy about sex in at least a year.

  “I’m going to go for a run.”

  He nods, accepting the rejection, and dropping his shorts before I leave the room. I catch a glimpse of his dick and I realize it’s been so long since I’ve seen it I had forgotten what it looked like. Once I hear the shower turn on, I close the door behind me and bolt for my purse, grabbing my Blackberry and run down the stairs. I know I don’t have much time, but I need to tell Will what’s going on, and what won’t be happening today. I’m pressing the send button before I’ve even reached the bottom stairs, and I immediately hear his voice on the other end but I want to make sure all bases are covered. “One second,” I say before I listen to make sure the shower is still running. Once I hear it, I run into the living room and turn the television on loud. “Will,” I whisper.

  “Baby, how are you? I missed you yesterday.” The longing in his voice crushes me as I think about what I have to tell him.

  “I know, I’m sorry. Matt is being so…clingy right now. He’s barely left my side.” I hear silence, and I pull my phone away from my ear, wondering if the call dropped.

  Nope, he’s probably just pissed.

  “I can’t wait to be inside of you, baby. I got spoiled having you nonstop for two days. Can you come earlier than noon? I need to kiss every inch of your body. I’m touching my dick right now thinking about you.” I can hear the desperation and the excitement in his voice, and I hate that I have to burst his bubble.

  I groan. “God, I want that…all of that so bad. But…I can’t.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Matt is working from home today.” There’s silence on the other end and I know he’s seething. “Baby…”

  “So, what, I can’t be alone with you at all today?” he demands, and I start to panic at the thought as well.

  “I don’t know what else to do. Where would I tell him that I’m going?”

  “Go for a run, I’ll come to you. Now.”

  “Now? Will, that’s…risky.”

  “I don’t care, Charley. I need to see you.”

  I sigh. “I’ll text you.”

  “Make it work, Charley.”

  So, now on top of a clingy husband that won’t stop pawing at me, I have a jealous boyfriend that’s getting more possessive by the day. I am so fucked.

  “I have to go,” I whisper.

  “I lov
e you,” he says and I wish he knew how much I want to say it back. I almost give in to the urge when I hear my name. Close. I can tell by the volume, that Matt is one room over and coming in fast. I hang up on Will without a word and my heart sinks that I had to do that.

  Please forgive me, Will.

  I bolt for the couch, sitting on my Blackberry without anywhere else close to stash it.

  “Shit, why is the TV so loud, are you going deaf?” His hair is still wet from the shower, his torso covered by his Princeton t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants leading me to believe that he has no intentions of leaving the house before our session later.

  “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize,” I say as I turn the volume of the television down.

  “I thought you were going for a run?”

  “I wanted to check the weather first, I thought it might rain.”

  He sits next to me on the couch and begins looking through his phone. My heart races at the thought that Will might try and call me back or text me, given that I hadn’t had the chance to turn off the Blackberry. Even though it’s on silent, I think Matt would feel the vibration. “Can you make the coffee?” I ask.

  “Coffee before your run?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “For when I get back?”

  He narrows his eyes at me, no doubt confused about why I would want him to make coffee for me to drink an hour from now but he obliges and heads toward the kitchen. I quickly reach under me and turn my Blackberry off. Will had probably gotten the hint about why I had abruptly ended the call, as he hasn’t tried to make contact. I reach for this month’s Vanity Fair magazine and hide the phone within its pages before heading up the stairs to change into something to wear for my run, gripping the magazine tightly in my hands. I pull on my spandex with the back zipper pocket and store my Blackberry in there while putting one of my flowy tanks on that comes down over my behind. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and move down the stairs. “I’ll be back,” I say.

  “Have a good run,” Matt says, his back to me, not bothering to turn around.