The Man I Can't Have (Ward #1) (Ward Duet)

by Shanora Williams

  And before I know it, he’s calling out my name. Literally yelling it as he comes. “Shit, Gabby!” I’ve never heard him get so loud, but I love it. I love it so much because I made him do that.

  He holds me down, twitching, sighing, and pulsing as he comes. He curses again, and I whimper when he pulls out. He holds me close though, looking up into my eyes. Using a hand to push my hair back, he studies my face. “You’re fuckin’ amazing. You know that?”

  I blush. I can’t help it. I just rode him like I had no common decency. I was that hungry for him. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He brings his mouth forward to kiss me, and just as he does, he flips me onto my back. I yelp as he leans over me, using a knee to spread my legs apart.

  “What are you doing?” I ask through a ragged breath.

  He doesn’t respond. Instead he brings a hand down, trailing it across my thigh. His fingers spread the lips of my pussy apart, and he uses the pad of one of his fingers to massage my clit. I tremble as he looks me right in the eyes. The sun is shining brighter, making his eyes appear more intense.

  Lowering his head, he kisses me again, this time ever-so-deeply. I sigh and groan as he continues massaging my clit. He pauses for a moment, his lips still on mine, then his finger is back on my clit again, but two fingers are inside me now. He’s still using his hand to create magic, working me up.

  My legs are shaking now, but I lean up to cup his face and kiss him harder. Heat sweeps through my body, blood rushing between my legs.

  I feel Marcel getting hard again, his erection on my thigh. “Your turn,” he mumbles, and then pulls his hand away. He’s between my legs and inside me in no time, and my back arches as he fills me with his hard cock. He reaches down, holding the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him.

  “You love me being inside you.” It’s a statement, far from a question, and one he already knows is the truth.

  He’s stroking torturously slow, but I’m so close and it feels so good. “Please,” I beg.

  “Please what?”

  “I’m close,” I tell him.

  “I know you are.”

  He pulls his hand away and sits up higher between my legs. Gripping my ass and tilting my hips up, he uses my pussy to grind along his dick. Like I’m his own personal fuck-toy, he drops my hips then brings them back up, swelling inside me. He does it over and over again, and it drives me crazy. My back isn’t on the bed, just the back of my head. I can’t see him, but I feel everything, and he keeps going, groaning and sighing while clutching my ass in his hands.

  “I feel you getting tighter,” he rasps. “You’re about to come all over my dick, baby. Go ahead. Give it to me. I’m ready to feel how wet your pussy can get.”

  His words? Orgasmic. His voice is deep, still thick with sleep, but he sounds so good, and he feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He grinds my pussy all over his dick, thrusting as he holds me hostage.

  And then it comes.

  I come.

  I cry out like never before, and Marcel’s voice thickens as he tells me how beautiful I am. I can hear him straining, slowing his thrusts. He stills and then falls forward, and I’m crushed beneath the weight of his strong body. His cheek is on mine as he pants heavily.

  “You are too much for words,” he says in my ear. “I don’t know how I’m goin’ to let you go.”

  I stroke his hair, but I don’t respond. I can’t. I don’t want him to have any hopes that this can continue, because it can’t. He has me for these three days, and that’s it.

  Even though it was never discussed, he knew that’s how it would be once this was over.

  It was a silent agreement we’d made when I arrived, and the mere thought of it depresses me.

  I’m surprised Marcel makes breakfast for me. Blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs to be exact.

  “When did you even have time to go shopping?” I ask, popping a blueberry into my mouth.

  “Went last night after you passed out.”

  “It was so late, though!” I exclaim. I can’t believe he did that. “I can’t believe I got that drunk. Did we do anything?”

  “No, we didn’t do anything,” he chuckles. “And it was worth goin’ out for. I wanted to make you somethin’.” He smiles at me, flipping the final pancake. “Go sit. I’ll bring you a plate.”

  I bite a smile, walking out of the kitchen and sitting at the table where my phone is. I check it, and there’s a text from Teagan.

  T: Did you bite the bullet??

  Me: Yes…does that make me a bad person?

  T: We’re all bad people. Enjoy it while it lasts.

  I sigh, shutting the screen off and sliding the phone to the middle of the table as Marcel makes his way to me with a plate in hand, a bottle of maple syrup in the other. He places it all down in front of me on the table, and I grin up at him.

  “Thanks, chef.”

  He smirks. “Don’t hate on my cookin’.”

  “I’m not. I think it’s cool that you like to cook.”

  He’s back in the kitchen as I pour syrup on my pancakes. “Shithead doesn’t cook for you?”

  “No. He didn’t need to. His family had a personal chef for him.”

  “Wow. Spoiled prick. No wonder he’s such an asshole.”

  I shake my head, cutting my pancakes in triangles and ignoring his remark. “How did you start cooking?”

  “My mom. She used to let me help her.”

  “Aww, that’s nice.”

  He’s quiet a moment. I take a bite of pancake. “She died when I was twenty-one.” He doesn’t look back. I’m not surprised. He doesn’t like talking about his family for some reason. If both his mom and sister have died, though…that couldn’t have been easy on him. I wonder what happened to his dad, but I don’t want to ask. At least, not right now.

  Marcel sits across from me at the table and digs right into his food. As I take a bite of my bacon, my phone rings and I freeze as my eyes shift over. Marcel looks too, and his frown doesn’t go unnoticed.

  I reach for the phone, looking over the set image of me and Kyle as the caller ID. The same image where Kyle is holding me from behind while we take a picture in our new bathroom.

  Shit. I should have put my phone on Do Not Disturb mode. I ignore the call, sending it straight to voicemail, then I go back to eating. Marcel never stopped, but I can tell he’s pissed. That frown hasn’t left his face, and his jaw is clenching.

  He finishes his food much faster than anticipated, then pushes out of his chair, carrying his empty plate to the sink.

  “We should go to the beach today,” I suggest, hoping to warm him back up.

  He doesn’t buy into it. He rinses off his dish, then pulls his cell phone out. I don’t know what he’s doing but I think he’s only scrolling through it so he doesn’t have to look at me.

  When I finish my food, I take my plate to the sink, walking past him. He slides away, sighing as he tucks his phone in his pocket again. I hate the silence. He knew this would happen.

  “Why are you so mad about a phone call?” I demand, and I’m really annoyed now.

  “I’m not,” he mutters.

  “Clearly you are, Marcel. I’m sure you knew he would call eventually. He is my husband!”

  He glares down at me, his upper lip twitching. I’m certain I’ve said the wrong thing because in an instant he’s picking me up by the waist and placing my ass right down on the countertop.

  He points a finger in my face, still staring at me. “Shove that into my face one more fuckin’ time, Gabby, and I swear to God I’m goin’ to lose my shit.” He’s seething, blind with rage. I think he’s already lost his shit.

  “It’s true, Marcel! Why pretend it isn’t the truth?”

  “Because I don’t like thinkin’ about that shit! How do you not get that by now?”

  I swallow thickly as he pulls his hand away, raking both hands through his full head of hair. “I can’t stand the thought of you going back t
o him. I was thinkin’ about it last night, after you passed out. Every time I did, it pissed me off more and more.” He sweeps his eyes all over me, then brings his gaze back to my face. “I want you all to my fuckin’ self, Gabby, but I know you’ll never leave him. You could, but you won’t. Not for someone like me.”

  My breathing falters as he moves closer. He brings me to the edge of the counter by the waist and starts to undo the tie of my satin pink robe. His hand moves down the lapel of the robe before peeling it open. It falls halfway down my arms, and he locks his eyes on my exposed breasts, sighing.

  “I can’t stand the thought of it,” he mumbles, bringing his mouth to the curve of my neck.

  “I know, but I can’t just leave him,” I moan, holding the back of his head.

  “You can. You’re just too afraid to.”

  “We’ve just met, Marcel. You and me.” I sigh as he drops his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth.

  “Don’t give a fuck. Feels like I’ve known you for years.”

  A breath shudders out of me. I can’t argue with him. He’ll always have something to say to back himself up.

  “I want you to myself,” he mumbles again, and then reaches into his shorts to pull his cock out. An arm wraps around my waist and he brings me as close as he can to the edge of the counter, just enough so that I don’t fall.

  I moan as he pushes into me, no resistance and no hesitation. His mouth is on my cheek, his arm tightening around me. He’s holding me so close, like he never wants to let go, all while his cock fills me up.

  “You have me right now,” I tell him through a moan.

  “I don’t just want right now. I want you forever.” He thrusts harder. “I know how I make you feel. I know you’d never feel it with him, no matter how hard you tried to make it happen. I’ve already ruined you for him.”

  He’s right. He’s so right, but I can’t admit to that.

  Another thrust.

  Another moan.

  A deeper groan.

  “You’re everything I never knew I wanted.” He shudders a breath, pressing his forehead to mine. Our eyes connect. “It’s just my luck that the woman I really want is already taken by someone else.”

  His words are heartbreaking, but they only fuel his desire. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to think about the fact that after I leave here, we won’t be alone anymore, so I cup his face in my hands and kiss him, and as if my kiss is all he needs, he picks me up off the counter, slowly gliding my pussy up, and then back down his shaft. He does it repeatedly while our lips are still connected, hungry and primal.

  He stiffens only seconds later, pulling his mouth away, and a breathy groan spills out of him. Rigidly, he lifts me up and down, filling me up all over again. Our favorite position. Primal and feral, like animals.

  “You have me,” I breathe when he pulls out and places me on the counter again. I’m still holding his face. Our foreheads are touching.

  “But only for now,” he mumbles. “It’s bullshit.”

  I close my eyes. “Don’t do this, Marcel. Please.”

  “Do what?”

  “Make this harder for me. At least I came to you. I chose you over him right now.”

  “Is it only going to be right now that you choose me over him?”

  “No, it won’t be.” That’s a lie.

  He pulls back, pressing his lips. Then he exhales, gripping my chin and pressing a kiss to my lips. “Let’s go to the beach.”

  I nod, glad he’s decided to let this go. “Okay. I’m gonna clean myself up really quick. Be right back.”

  He watches me go. I can feel his heavy gaze on my back. I head into the bathroom to clean up, then I look into the mirror. My eyes are red, burning with too much emotion, but I blink it all away and shake my head, leaving the guilt behind.

  As we get dressed, he in his swimming trunks and me in the same purple bathing suit I bought, he talks about how he’s going to be slammed with work after taking three days off, but that it’ll be worth it because of me.

  When we’re dressed and have a bag packed, he wraps me up in his arms and plants a kiss on my forehead before we walk out of the villa. I can’t help feeling an ache in my chest when he does it, knowing that these hugs and kisses are limited for him.

  It hurts because I know that after this trip, I may not see Marcel again. I told myself I would give him these three days—give myself these three days—and be done for good. I’d go back to the regular life I lived and act like it never even happened. Put the cheating and lying behind me and bury it forever.

  But the more I’m around him, the more I realize that my life may not ever be the same again.

  I’m starting to fall for this man—a man I know I can’t have.

  FORTY-TWO

  GABBY

  WE SPEND an ample amount of time at the beach and it’s exactly what I need. I love how the sun hits me, wrapping me up in its warmth after I step out of the cool, salty water.

  What I love even more though, is watching Marcel go into the waves with his dark-blue swimming trunks on. Every time he walks back out, he pushes his slick hair back and hikes his pants up his waist just enough, but never too much to hide that delicious V below his abdomen.

  I swear he’s like a god, powering out of the water, showing off abs that I want to lick. Droplets of water sparkle on his body like tiny gems. He’s so damn breathtaking that I literally hold my breath as he walks to his towel that’s spread out beside mine.

  “What are you thinkin’ about?” he asks, dropping down beside me.

  I smile way too hard. “Nothing,” I lie.

  He smirks, like he knows something I don’t. “Saw you starin’. Like what you see?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” I laugh.

  He grins before taking a big gulp from his water bottle.

  “I keeping thinking about something…” I pause, debating whether I should get into the topic in mind.

  “Go on…” Water is dripping from his wet hair, falling over his eyelashes.

  “Well, it’s about what you said earlier. About us only being together for these three days. After spending all this time with you, I keep wondering how I’m supposed to move on from the idea of you.”

  He thinks on that for a moment, then sighs, looking at the ocean. “I don’t want you to move on from the idea of me. That was the whole point of this trip.” He’s joking but dead serious all the same.

  “But why, Marcel? Wanting me only makes your life more complicated.”

  He chuckles at that, then shakes his head. “A friend of mine once told me that I’m attracted to things I know I can’t have. Apparently, she thinks it gives me a thrill—being with someone I know I can’t keep.”

  “She?” It’s all I can hear. I don’t even have the right to be jealous but I’m curious who this she is.

  He looks at me full-on, then his eyes stretch wide. “You didn’t hear a damn thing I just said, did you? All you heard was she, and you got those panties in a twist.” He clearly finds this humorous because he tips his head back to bellow a laugh.

  I tuck my damp hair behind my ears. “I’m just wondering.”

  He clears his throat. “A woman I used to hang out with. Her name was Lucy.”

  “Wow. Lucy? She sounds easy.”

  “She was. It was kind of a part of her job.”

  I frown then. “Her job? What are you talking about?”

  “She was a paid escort.”

  I blink rapidly, stunned. I did not expect to hear that come out of his mouth. “So, you paid her to fuck you?”

  “Somethin’ like that.” He says it so nonchalantly that I want to cringe. “It was a premium agency. Expensive. All of the women who work there are clean, and the clients, like me, are always tested to make sure we are, too.”

  “That sounds complicated and pricey. Why not just try and find a girlfriend instead?”

  “Because girlfriends are ten times more complicated and even more exp
ensive. At least with Lucy, I didn’t have to buy her things to make her happy.”

  I roll my eyes, leaning back on my palms. “Well, I think Lucy is right. You like things you know you can’t have. And I think deep down you like it because of something that happened in your past, maybe. Deep down you know people like me and Lucy won’t stick around forever, which will only cause you to end up alone.” I narrow my eyes at him, hoping that’s enough to get him to open up.

  “What can I say? I’m a lone wolf.”

  “Being lonely isn’t always a good thing. What if you grow old and have no one to take care of you?”

  “I’ll check myself into a good retirement home. I could make friends there, all of us showin’ denture smiles while playin’ bingo and eatin’ sugar-free rice puddin’.”

  I bust out laughing. “You are ridiculous!”

  He smirks, then sweeps his eyes all over me. “Come here.” His face is serious now, eyes mellowing. I crawl his way and he reels me forward so I’m sitting on his lap. “You fit on top of me perfectly, you know that?”

  I feel a blush creep up from my neck to my cheeks.

  “When this little trip is over, will you stay in touch with me?” he asks.

  I blink quickly when he airs his question. My expression alone is probably enough to reveal the truth. My jaw goes slack, and I lower my head, inhaling deeply before exhaling. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No. I don’t know.”

  “Would you want to see me again?”

  I shrug.

  “Look at me.”

  I slide my eyes up to his.

  “Would you want to see me again?” he repeats.

  I press my lips and lightly bob my head. “I know I will…and that’s what’s going to kill me.”

  “Why let it kill you? Why not just make a trip to see me again? No one would know but us.”

  “Because it’s wrong, Marcel. I can’t live with that guilt.”

  “Even if the man you’re married to treats you like you’re a fuckin’ object?”

  His face is even, but when he narrows his eyes, searching my face for answers, I can tell he’s annoyed. I start to move off his lap. I’m not in the mood to be interrogated. He’s been upset about my marital status ever since this morning. I knew he wasn’t going to let it go that easily, but having the conversation here is upsetting.