The Forbidden

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  I rush to the door and swing it open, finding Colin. “Hey!” I sing, opening up the path to him. “Welcome, come in.”

  “Hi, Annie!” Colin chimes happily, walking into my hallway and taking me in a friendly hug. “Thanks for the invite.”

  I let him release me, and an attractive lady in a silver dress quickly crowds me, holding up a bottle of wine, tapping the side with a long red fingernail. “I brought you this, since we’re technically gate crashing.”

  Colin laughs. “Annie, this is Stephanie.”

  I accept the bottle. “Nice to meet you, Stephanie.”

  “And this is her husband, Jack.” Colin nods past me. “My contractor.”

  I turn back toward the door, frowning, my brain slow to catch on.

  Jack? Contractor?

  Husband?

  My blood runs cold and the bottle of wine slips through my fingers, shattering at my feet as I stare into familiar, intense gray eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Jack.” I barely whisper, my mouth dry, my hand squeezing the door handle to try to steady my trembling.

  “Oh no!” Stephanie cries, appearing at my side. “Are you okay?” She bends and starts collecting the broken pieces of glass. “Oh my, there’s wine everywhere!”

  I just stare. And so does he. I know Stephanie is talking, but I can’t make out a word she’s saying, hearing only Jack’s voice through the flashbacks currently bombarding me, more vivid and real than any time before.

  I blink rapidly, my breathing coming in short, fast bursts. I need to pull myself together. Quickly. Ripping my eyes away from Jack’s, I drop to my haunches and start carelessly collecting pieces of glass, my mind in chaos.

  He’s here? Oh my God, he’s here! And he’s married? I start to sweat.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumble to the floor, feeling a sharp stab of pain bolt through my finger. Dropping all of the shards I’ve clumsily gathered, I suck in air and look blankly down at blood trickling from the cut. Tears flood my eyes, a mixture of pain and desperation as Stephanie grabs my arm.

  “You’ve cut yourself,” she says, pulling me to my feet. “Let me see.”

  I’m trembling in her hold. She must feel it. “I’m sorry,” I mumble mindlessly, looking up at her.

  She looks straight into my eyes, and I look away quickly, fearful of what she might read in them. “Here, Jack, take Annie to clean up in the bathroom while I clear this mess up.”

  “No, it’s fine!” I blurt out, yanking my hand away fast, my panic rising. “Honestly, it’s just a silly nick. I need to mop this up.”

  “I’ll wipe up,” Colin offers. “You get a bandage.”

  “Come.” Jack’s voice hits me from the side, and then his hand claims my wrist.

  I jolt like a frightened animal, jumping back a few steps. Then I do something so utterly stupid. I look at him, finding gray eyes full of concern.

  He tilts his head, saying so much before he breathes a word. “Where’s the bathroom?” he asks.

  I point down the corridor, losing the ability to talk. Before I can even think to protest, Jack has his hand against the small of my back, pushing me toward my bedroom. His touch is like fire against my back, burning through the material of my dress.

  We’re going to be alone. What will he say? What will I say? He’s married? He’s here, in my house with his fucking wife! And he’s Colin’s contractor! My stomach churns.

  He doesn’t close my bedroom door behind us, choosing to only push it shut a little. Then he’s leading the way across my room, pulling me along behind him urgently. After a quick check over his shoulder, he pulls the bathroom door closed behind us, and though I’m a wreck on the inside, I manage to appreciate how suspicious the closed doors might look if his wife comes to find us. I step forward to push it open again, but Jack intercepts me, blocking my way with his tall, well-built body. More flashbacks, except his body is naked.

  I refuse to look up at him. I’m a big fat mess on the inside—confused, hurt, and angry—but a lust and desire that I’m all too familiar with is dominating me. And I’m terrified by it. It wasn’t the alcohol that night. It wasn’t my imagination. It was real, and I’m feeling it all again now. When I really shouldn’t be.

  He doesn’t speak, leaving the silence drenched with unspoken words and penetrated with potent craving. I knew I should have stayed away! I sensed there was a reason I should have stayed away. Oh my God, he’s married! I checked for a ring that night. He wasn’t wearing a ring!

  “I need to go.” I push past him, but he seizes me and holds me in place, his breathing wild and labored.

  “You’re Colin’s architect?” he asks, his voice rich and smooth even though it carries reasonable worry.

  “Yes,” I answer, short and sharp, not following it up with any of the questions that I should be firing at him.

  Pretend I don’t know him. Pretend I’ve never clapped eyes on him before in my life. It’s the only way. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re married?” The question just falls right out.

  His hands squeeze my shoulders. “I couldn’t,” he says simply. “I physically couldn’t utter the fucking words to you, because at that moment in time, Annie, I was wishing I wasn’t, more than I’ve ever wished it before.”

  Wished it before? I shake my head before I can let that question hold me here any longer. “I really must go.”

  “No,” he grates, shaking me a little.

  My anxiety rockets. I can only pretend nothing happened between us if he lets me, and his attitude right now is telling me he’s not prepared to. Or maybe he’s worried I’ll say something to his wife. His wife! His wife who’s currently sweeping up broken glass in my hallway!

  Anger bubbles up from my toes, and I brave looking at him. His handsome face is like a sucker punch to my turning stomach. I feel sick. “I won’t say anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You were gone,” he whispers, taking my arm and pulling me toward the sink.

  He flips the tap on and forces my hand under the running water. There’s no pain. I can’t feel a damn thing through my shock.

  “I woke up and you were just gone,” he says. “Why?”

  His audacity astounds me. Like I have to justify my actions to him? “It’s fucking irrelevant now, don’t you think?” I seethe, wrenching my hand from the sink and grabbing a hand towel to wrap it in.

  I’m so stupid! I bet he’s out most weekends enticing women back to hotels with those sinfully good looks, the right words, his twinkling eyes and a bit of charming banter. He’s clearly got away with it, too, because his wife obviously trusts him. She didn’t think twice about sending him into a room alone with me. What an arsehole! I’m suddenly so mad with myself for wasting a whole week going over every tiny detail of our encounter, picking it to pieces and trying to make sense of it. How many women has he blindsided?

  He moves in closer and bends a little, his scent invading my nose. I hold my breath to avoid it. To stop myself from relishing it.

  “There was nothing irrelevant about that night, Annie. I’ve thought of nothing else since.” His hand comes up and cups my cheek, his thumb circling lightly over my skin.

  My whole body relaxes, the feel of him touching me so tenderly cutting through my anger, and I release my breath, getting a strong hit of his manly smell. It sends me woozy.

  “There was something there between us,” he whispers. “Fucking hell, something that’s possessed me. I can’t get you out of my head, Annie. I’ve been back to that bar every damn fucking night looking for you.” His face comes close, his breath warming my cheeks as I close my eyes and fall into a trance. “You felt it, too, didn’t you? It wasn’t just sex. Tell me you felt it, too.” He brushes his scruff lightly across my cheek and I moan, despite myself, suddenly catapulted back into that hotel room. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  I swallow, trying not to let the confirmation that he’s thought about it, too, run away with me. It’s a moot
point now. But his touch. It’s like fire, pulling the memories to the front of my mind, making me relive them all relentlessly.

  “That night,” he breathes. “With you curled into my side, I had no worries. No problems. I felt nothing beyond you, and it was fucking perfect, Annie.”

  I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut. “Perfect until I found out that you’re married.” The words hurt, and though I’m willing myself to step back, to remove myself from his touch because I know I shouldn’t be loving the feel of him, I don’t. I remain where I am, unwilling and unable to rob myself of the amazing feelings that I’ve dreamed about experiencing again.

  “You kept it,” Jack says softly, pulling my eyes open. He picks up the bottle cap from the shelf above my sink and fiddles with it for a few seconds, studying it moving between the tips of his fingers. I say nothing, watching as he looks back to me. “You couldn’t forget either.”

  We stare at each other for a few moments as he blindly puts the bottle cap back. Then he moves closer to me, pushing his body into mine. Explosions. And his mouth drops lazily toward mine. In my head, I’m screaming, demanding I push him away. But my heart is fluttering and my body is coming to life again. His lips. His touch. His voice. His face. His kisses. Soft kisses turning into hard kisses. Just one more of those consuming kisses. One more. Please, one more. His lips gently brush mine, and I go lax against him.

  “Jack!”

  I’m snapped from my recklessness when her voice slams into the bathroom, and I fly back, as does Jack, just as the door opens and his wife appears. “Is it bad?” she asks, approaching me.

  Her presence aligns my sensibility in a heartbeat. “It’s nothing,” I assure her, smiling tightly. “I have a bandage in the kitchen.”

  “Maybe put some antiseptic cream on first,” Jack says quietly, and I look at him, finding intense gray eyes nailed to me.

  Stephanie laughs and places a dainty hand on Jack’s exposed forearm. His whole body locks, going visibly tense. “Always so wise,” she says dreamily as my eyes fall to where her hand is resting on his flesh.

  Solid arms, braced on either side of my head as he pounded into me.

  No!

  I shake the flashbacks away and pluck some stability from nowhere. “What a great start to the night.” I laugh, watching as Jack pulls his arm away from his wife’s touch, flicking nervous eyes at her.

  Her eyes aren’t nervous. They’re narrowed. More tension.

  “Let’s get back to the party.” I gesture toward the door, relieved when Stephanie slaps a smile on her face and leads on, Jack behind her.

  I follow them out. Them. Stephanie and Jack. A married couple.

  His shoulders are stiff, his profile appearing every few seconds when he looks back at me. Each time, I glance away, dying on the inside, bombarded by so many feelings. I don’t know what to do with any of it. The guilt: that’s the most potent feeling of all. And then more panic when I see Lizzy coming in from the garden.

  Oh Jesus, I’ve been so caught up in my state of shock I forgot my friends here tonight were also in the bar that night. I watch in horror as she pulls to a slow stop, looking straight past Stephanie to Jack, her smile falling away. I fly past Jack, knocking his arm, and reach Lizzy, forcing her to retreat back.

  “You don’t know him,” I whisper in her ear as I whirl around, slapping a smile on my face. “This is Lizzy!” I declare, making introductions. “Lizzy, this is Jack, my client’s contractor, and his wife, Stephanie.” I don’t mean to emphasize that word with spite, but just in case Lizzy is slow on the uptake, I need to spell out, loud and clear, my fucked-up situation.

  Lizzy presents her hand to each of them in turn, smiling brightly. She has the casual, blasé mask far more nailed than I do. “How lovely to meet you,” she gushes, turning to me once she’s said her hellos. Her dark eyes are wide. So fucking wide. They should be. “I’ll go change the music.”

  Her head tilts to the side a little in silent signal. I read her mind like I could be reading from a script. She’s going to make sure that Nat and Micky don’t drop me in the shit. Fuck, I hope they don’t recognize Jack; they were all pretty pissed, but I can’t risk it. “I think only Micky will recognize him,” Lizzy whispers as she passes me.

  God, I hope so. Colin appears in the doorway. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s nothing,” I assure him. “Did you get a drink?”

  “Yes.” He holds up a glass of red. “I was just seeing to Jack and Stephanie’s but I got distracted by your friend Micky. He’s a personal trainer, and I need one of those!” Colin flexes his nonexistent biceps and makes his way back into the garden. “Get those drinks and come join us.”

  “What would you like?” I ask Stephanie, pulling the cupboard open and retrieving the small first aid box.

  “Wine would be lovely, thank you. White, please.”

  “Jack?” I ask, hating how his name sounds on my lips. I definitely hear a deep inhale of breath from behind me.

  “Beer, please,” he says, as I make quick work of slapping a small bandage over my tiny cut. “Budweiser, if you have it.”

  My fumbling fingers falter. Budweiser. I see him tipping a bottle to his lips and I see me, rapt by his taut throat. And the bottle top. Something to remember him by. “I have it.” I shove the first aid box back in the cupboard and turn, catching his eye.

  “Thank you.” He glances away, kicking me into action.

  I make fast work of getting their drinks, but not so fast that Lizzy doesn’t have time to suss out the rest of my friends. When she appears in the doorway again, mildly nodding, I very nearly puddle on the floor.

  “The garden?” I lead the way and introduce Jack and his wife to a few people, feeling him staring at me the whole time.

  Nat is oblivious to Jack and who he is, but Micky’s stance definitely alters the moment he claps eyes on him. I stare at my oldest friend until he looks at me, then give him begging eyes, hoping he sees and absorbs my silent plea. He shakes his head, looking as disturbed by the situation as I’m feeling, before returning his attention to Colin.

  You’d have to be dead not to feel the tension bouncing around my courtyard garden. I’m certain everyone must feel it, yet as I glance around, everyone is chatting normally, unaware. I leave Stephanie and Jack with Nat and rush to the kitchen to find more wine, knowing I’ll have company in—

  “What the fuck?” Lizzy hisses, joining me by the worktop as I pour with shaking hands.

  I nod my agreement and bring the glass to my lips, swigging back half of the wine.

  “Tell me you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t know,” I say calmly, not insulted by Lizzy’s demand as I swallow my wine and turn, resting my arse against the counter.

  Micky falls into the kitchen with wide, worried eyes. “Annie, you okay?”

  I nod and sip more wine. “He’s married,” I mumble mindlessly, staring into my wineglass. “My amazing one-night stand is married, in my house with his fucking wife, and he’s my client’s contractor.” I look up to my friends. “I have to work with him.” I laugh. “You couldn’t fucking write it!”

  “The wanker,” Micky spits, slamming his glass down on the counter.

  “Nat was too busy dancing and throwing back shots to take any notice of him in the bar,” Lizzy says, looking outside, no doubt checking the coast is clear.

  “I can’t believe this,” I splutter. “All that time I wasted thinking about him.”

  “Here.” Lizzy pours more wine into my glass and Micky comes over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

  “I’m such an idiot.”

  “No,” they snap in unison.

  “I am. I fell right into his hands, and now I have to look his wife in the eye knowing I fucked her husband.” The thought sets my panic off again and I begin to tremble, my wine splashing up the side of my glass.

  “This isn’t your fault.” Lizzy grinds the words out, annoyed. “Look at me,” she demands, and I do. “Calm d
own. Get through tonight and then we’ll reconvene in the morning.”

  “What am I going to do?” I ask. “I can’t work with him!” I’ll have to quit Colin’s project. It’s my dream design coming to life, and I’ll have to abandon it!

  “For now, you’re not going to let him ruin your night. Tomorrow we’ll…”

  The room falls silent when another presence is noted by all three of us, and we all look toward the door. Jack’s standing in the doorway, absorbing the fire glares pointed at him. “I need to talk to Annie,” he states confidently.

  “What?” Micky pipes up, almost laughing at the cheek of his declaration. “You turn up here large as life, with your fucking wife?”