Seth’s calloused hands run over the tops of my shoulders, sliding the robe off of my body and letting it flutter in a mass of black liquid to my feet. I shiver and my chest heaves. Seth’s breath fans over my neck and his hands slip up the sides of the leather, up my neck, and into my hair.
“Seth,” I whimper when I feel his mouth at my jaw. This is what I wanted … needed. His hands tighten in my hair, making my scalp sting.
“Don’t talk,” he says, voice gravelly in my ear. “You came to be fucked, right?” He doesn’t let me answer. To try and explain that I came here to love him. Using my body to help. He grips my hips, keeping me facing the wall even though I want to see his face, and slides his hand between my legs.
Anything I wanted to say is swept away with the breeze once I feel him there. Teasing, playing, and manipulating me. Breath escapes me, and the only reason I’m still standing through the lightheadedness, is because Seth holds me strong and steady against his bare chest.
Speaking of bare chests, I really, really want to touch his. It glistens with sweat, every curve of his muscles tight and straining.
When I try to turn, Seth bites my shoulder and shakes his head. He stays stone-still for a moment, breathing hard. For a dreadful minute, I think he might’ve changed his mind.
His body shakes, and he releases a low growl, grabbing the fabric of my thong and ripping it off my body. I hear the zipper of his jeans and try to look back at him, but his hand is already in my hair, keeping me from turning around.
I want to fight against his hold, against the punishment of not being able to look at him and love him, but I give up when I feel his hardness between my legs. Lifting my body up in his arms, he settles inside of me and moans loud and hard.
Then there is only this moment. This fulfillment and lust that consumes me. Seth’s slick skin moves against the leather wrapped around my body. His tattooed arm navigating every inch of skin he can touch, and his mouth devouring my neck, back, jaw, lips. I forget about the two-sided connection I wanted to show him, and get lost in how amazing he makes me feel. The shivers, the moans, the gasps of air as he steals so dominantly.
Way too soon, his fingers are back on my sensitive spot, trying to coax me to a release. But I want it with him, so I try to squirm away. He holds me against him tighter, arms shaking while he pumps his hips deeper and harder into me. My body betrays my heart and I’m way too quickly falling into oblivion, nerves exploding and gasping through the exotic sensation.
“Fuck yes,” I moan, resting my head back against his shoulder.
Seth’s hips are relentless despite the fact that I no longer have any function of my body. He buries his face in my neck and roars, his body tightening and finding its own release inside me. I savor the closeness. The intimacy of what we just did.
“I love you, Sethy,” I say, limp in his arms. He needs to know he’s still the only man I want.
For the first time since I’ve told Seth that I was in love with him, not as a friend, but truly and bone-deeply loved him, I don’t feel the sense of relief and requited love that I usually do.
I don’t misconstrue the way he tightens his arms around me as him clinging to me. Instead, I’m punched in the gut with his resentment. For my words. For my choices. For being with me. My I love you doesn’t mean anything to Seth.
His harsh breathing fills my ears and his hands dig into my waist.
“I don’t believe you,” he whispers bitterly against my ear.
Something punches my lung, releasing all breath and racing painful prickles across my neck and arms. My body can’t burden the onslaught of pain from his words, and my knees buckle.
My gasp goes unnoticed as he pulls away. Tears start and I can’t get them to stop. By the time I finally turn around, Seth’s jeans are already pulled up and zipped. I feel too exposed and embarrassed standing here watching him grab a shirt from the floor and putting on his boots. I’m ashamed, but only notice the sharp pain in my chest trying to choke me.
Without sparing me a glance—without any acknowledgement of what just happened—Seth walks out the door.
As if I’m nothing.
Like a slap in the face, I finally understand what happened. Seth reduced me to one of the women he used to fuck. A fuck to make himself feel something other than the pain he’s feeling inside.
He just used me—and I deserved every minute of it.
Chapter 37
Seth
I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing here anymore. Why I keep trying to work through the finances of the farm as if there is some way to save it without Dad here?
Dad’s gone. What the fuck am I trying to accomplish by keeping it running? We haven’t made a profit in a month, and I’m losing the loyalty of the farm hands. Farming was never my calling. I’ve been an artist since the day I was born. Dad knew that before—
Dad’s gone.
Anger boils inside me and I fling my arm to wipe out all the paperwork cluttering my dad’s desk.
He deserves better than this! Than you as a son.
I lay my head into my hands and pull on my hair. The voice never leaves. Never stops reminding me of what a failure I am. That I failed her. That I failed my daughter. That I failed my dad. That I’m a fucking murderer.
It never fucking stops. I’m so fucked up, I’m not sure what’s real anymore. I see the man I murdered, dead eyes and filled with the bullets I shot into his chest. I see blood on my hands. Her blood. The stab wound that should have never happened.
I was her fiancé! Despite her breaking it off with me, I vowed from the moment I fell in love with her that I would protect her and keep her safe. I failed! I fucking failed!
You’re worthless.
Growling and pushing away from my dad’s desk, I start pacing the office. I need to get out of this headspace. I’m not fucking crazy. I take a swig of the whiskey bottle my dad had hidden in his desk drawer. After going through all those papers, I fully understand why Dad kept his liquor hidden in his office.
Before I reach for another taste, my phone rings, hidden in the mess of papers scattering the floor.
Grumbling as I sift through the clutter, I answer the phone right before the final ring. “What’s up?”
“Dude, where’d you go last night?” Brandon asks without preamble.
I groan and fall back onto the cold floor. “You didn’t tell me she’d be there. That was fucked up.”
A flash of leather and tan skin assaults my vision. Fuck. I’ve been working hard to fight the memories of last night, but my body has the wrong definition of hard. I push against the boner that keeps growing as I picture her small, tight body, trapped in leather and ruffles. Long, dark-brown hair falling in waves down her back. The smell of vanilla in the crook of her neck.
“Aw, come on, man. Brooke said she would’ve fucked Josie herself, she looked so hot.” I hear Brooke hollering something in the background. “No, babe. I’m saying you thought she looked hot, not me.”
“What the fuck, Brandon?” I glare at the ceiling. “Did you see her dressed like that last night?”
He pauses. “Would it make you angry if I did …?” Brandon asks, trailing off at the end.
It shouldn’t. I have no right to be pissed. I made it real fucking clear that Josie and I are done. Especially after last night.
But it does piss me off. So much that my fists clench tightly and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to ward off images of punching my best friend in the face.
Brandon laughs as if he can see me. “I’m just fucking with you, bro. Brooke wouldn’t let me anywhere near the spare bedroom.” Another round of yelling from Brooke in the background. “I said you fucked me so good last night that I didn’t care what Josie was wearing. Let me talk to my best friend, woman!” To me, he says, “Anyway, so where did you go?”
“Had to leave. Came home.”
“To your mom’s?”
My suspicions rise. “Why do you want to know?”
�
�Just wondering, buddy. Chill. So why did you leave?”
I run my palm over my closed eyes—Josie’s heartbroken face too clear in my mind. I didn’t want to hear her tell me she loved me. I couldn’t believe she stooped so low to try and seduce me into forgiving her. It pissed me off.
“I don’t really wanna talk about it, Brandon.”
I hear his sigh through the phone. “Yeah. You never wanna talk about anything anymore.”
I can’t really blame him for getting frustrated. I’ve been a terrible friend in the last month, and I can’t seem to pull myself together enough to be better. With all the crazy going on in my head, I have no room to pretend like everything is okay.
Pulling at the rubber band on my wrist, I start snapping it until the sting hurts more than everything running through my mind. I want to say sorry, but I can’t get it out. “We’re not getting back together. The more y’all try to push it, the more pissed I get.”
“Hey. I had nothing to do with that. My wife asked me and you to watch Alec, and I sure as hell am not telling her no, so that’s what I did.” He pauses and adds, “Plus, I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s still crazy about you.”
“Stop.”
I can’t hear this. It’s so much easier to be mad at her—to accept this pain of betrayal. Because the moment I listen to her explain it all away—the moment I forgive her for breaking my heart—is the moment I have to look her in the eyes and accept this new reality.
I can’t be with her knowing it was so easy for her to crush me, and I sure as hell can’t wake up next to her every day for the rest of our lives knowing I couldn’t stop her nightmares from coming true.
“Obviously she’s not with Blake, so there has to be another reason she ended the engagement with you. If you’d just hear her out, then—”
“Fucking stop, Brandon. I don’t care if she’s with that douchebag.” But I do. I really fucking do care.
She’d be better off with him than you.
“Yes, you do,” Brandon says, exasperated. “I get that everything has been tough on you, but—”
“You don’t fucking know anything, Brandon. I will always love her, but what’s going on is so much more than that. We have so many fucking issues, I can’t even function anymore.”
“You think a bottle of Jack is going to fix that?” he says back, anger creeping into his voice. “She’s dying to talk to you. To work this out, and you’ve been an ass to her ever since your dad died.”
“Let it go,” I say, my voice low. I sit up and fist a hand in my hair.
“No. I’ve sat back for the last month and watched you treat her like shit. Like she didn’t have everything ripped away from her, too. Brooke was with her all morning trying to get her to stop crying.”
A fist of pain hits my gut when I hear that.
“It’s like you can’t decide if you want to hate her, hurt her, or protect her, Seth. Pull yourself together. You have a chance at a fresh start, and you’re blowing it.”
The sensible part inside me understands him. I know I’m being ridiculous and crazy and a major asshole. But the voices keep telling me I’m a loser and a failure. That she never wanted me to begin with. I don’t know what’s real any more.
“Anyway,” Brandon continues as if my head isn’t splitting between sanity and full-on crazy. “We’re all getting together tomorrow before Brody has to go back to Pennsylvania and Breanna has to go back to school. We’re gonna have dinner here, then head out to a bar to get wasted. You in?”
“You had me at wasted, buddy.”
“Sweet. If you’re not staying the night tonight, then meet us here tomorrow around three. If you’re coming back, bring your guitar. Breanna mentioned she wanted to learn how to play.”
“Everyone will be there tonight, too?”
“Not everyone, but I think Josie is staying another night. And I think Breanna and Brody planned on sleeping over for the weekend.”
I run a hand over my mouth. I really should say I’m not coming tonight. I shouldn’t even put myself in a situation where I have to see her.
You like the pain. She broke you and you like that more than you like admitting that you’re a fucked-up murderer who couldn’t keep his girl and baby safe.
Shut up! She pushed me away, what else could I do?
“So, you coming tonight?” Brandon asks, interrupting my inner crazy.
I snap the rubber bands again, an angry welt forming already. “I’ll let you know later.”
I hear Brooke again, and Brandon groans. “You’re his mother, you do it.” It’s deadly quiet for a few seconds. “Shit, I better go,” Brandon mumbles into the phone.
My lips fight a smile, picturing the look Brooke must have given him. “Wait,” I say before I can stop myself. I close my eyes and see the hurt on Josie’s face when I told her I didn’t believe her I love you. “Is she okay?”
After some shuffling, Brandon answers. “Yeah. Brooke got her to calm down. Whatever you said to her ripped her apart, dude. If you’re coming over, stay away. She’s been through enough.”
Don’t I know it. “Yeah. I’ll text you later.”
We hang up and I’m left again to my thoughts. My crazy, angry, fucked-up thoughts. Even my best friend knows I’m no good for that girl right now.
You killed his father. You think he doesn’t secretly hate you for that?
Brandon’s not like that. He knew I had to do it.
Did you? You could have shot him one time to stop him, but you didn’t.
He almost killed Josie. He deserved it.
So you’re a god now? He was your best friend’s dad and you sentenced him to death in a second.
I growl and slam a fist against the tiled floor. “Shut up!”
“Seth,” my mom’s voice startles me from across the room. Her weary eyes settle on my face, and I see her concern as clear as the sorrow she burdens every day she has to live without my dad.
You almost lost the love of your life, and now you treat her like shit.
She didn’t want me.
You’re letting her down.
I shake my head against those very true words and get up off the floor.
“We need to talk.”
“Sure. Are you okay?” I walk up to her and drape an arm over her shoulders, walking her out of the memories inside Dad’s office and into the kitchen.
“Yeah, baby. We need to talk about the farm,” she says, sitting at the kitchen table.
I sit down across from her and sigh heavily. “Mom …” How do I tell my mom that her husband’s legacy is falling to pieces? Everything she loved about him is crumbling under my supervision.
“I’m selling the farm, Seth.”
I look up at her sharply. “What?”
“I talked to the lawyers this morning. There was an offer made a couple weeks ago for the land, and I did a lot of thinking and reflecting.” Tears slip from her closed eyes. I reach across the table and hold onto her shaking hand. “Dad never wanted you to take over for him. He wanted you to follow your dreams. He wouldn’t want you stressing over keeping this farm running.”
“Mom. I’ll do everything I can to get it running again.” I run my free hand through my hair. “I’m just new to this part of the business. Dad never taught me how to do more than labor. You don’t need to sell the farm.”
“He knew a long time ago that he would have to let it go one day.” Her hands tremble beneath mine. “We just didn’t think it’d be so soon, or so unexpected.”
“You can’t sell the farm, Mom. This was all Dad had. I’ll figure it out, I promise.”
Mom smiles sadly, and lifts a hand to my cheek. “You are an artist, Seth. You were never meant to be stuck in North Carolina on a farm that you never wanted.”
I’m not even sure what to say. A part of me feels like this is wrong. Dad’s legacy shouldn’t be sold for a price because his son is too incompetent to manage the farm on his own.
But fuck if that isn’
t relief that finally courses through me for the first time in weeks.
“Dad would want this,” Mom assures me.
“What’s going to happen to you? Where are you going to live?”
She shrugs and looks so lost that I walk around the table to bring her in for a hug. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You can live at my house. We’re not … Josie’s not even living there now, so it’s empty.”
Mom shakes her head, pulling back. “No. The point of this is so you’re not wasting your energy on me. You have to promise me you’re going to go back to work. Take pictures again. Find your passion again. I miss my vibrant and happy boy.”
I lie my head on her shoulder. “He’s gone, Mom. I’ll never be the same after … after everything that happened.”
“Dad dying wasn’t your fault.”
I close my eyes tightly. “Everything with Josie and being arrested. Mom, you can’t say that wasn’t too much stress on him.”
You should have been there for him. You should have helped him more on the farm instead of wasting your time on a girl who didn’t even love you enough to marry you.
She loved me. She’s not a waste.
Hollow laughter fills my head and I tense.
“Dad also had bottles of liquor stashed in random drawers around the house. Had a pack of cigarettes hidden in his truck. And he thought he was so sly trying to hide all that fried food, as if I couldn’t look at a bank statement and see McDonald’s and KFC on there.” She strokes my hair. “He was taken too soon, but it had nothing to do with you, Seth. Not a damn thing.”
“I keep thinking I’ll hear one of his jokes when I walk into a room. But then I don’t, and I wish …” Anger and regret swell in my chest.
“Yeah, I get it honey. I wish you would talk to someone about it.”
I pull away and make a face. I get up from the table and start pacing. “I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m doing fine on my own.”
Sure, talking to yourself is perfectly normal.
“Josie’s been seeing a psychiatrist and says it’s helped her a lot.”
I freeze and look at her. Betrayal mixes in with my other emotions. “You’ve been talking to Josie?”
That's a Relief (Promises, Promises Book 3) Page 23
