Forbidden Desires

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Forbidden Desires Page 11

by Roberts, Jaimie

"If you don't mind me saying, you looked kind of sad when I walked in here. I've been told I'm a shit listener, but with you, I will try."

  I glance his way, a small smile coating my lips. "I appreciate the offer, but it's complicated."

  "Isn't everything these days?"

  I silently laugh. "I guess."

  "I know just the thing to cheer you up." He reaches over, clutching my drink. When I don't let go, he raises an eyebrow. "Indulge me?" I release my drink and watch as he places it next to his. He turns, taking my hand in his, and leads me out into the gardens.

  "What are you doing?" I ask, both nervous and strangely excited.

  "You'll see," he answers, leading me up to the pool’s edge. He lets go of my hand and faces me. "You like horses, right?" He motions to the stables.

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Let's gallop together."

  A rumble of laughter leaves my lips, causing me to double over a little with discomfort. I'm healing very well, but sometimes I forget and it reminds me I'm not one hundred percent yet.

  "You're shitting me, right?"

  He shakes his head. "No, I'm being serious. You would be amazed at how much it releases stress, making you feel more energized."

  "What, by making an ass of yourself?"

  He raises that same damn sexy eyebrow of his. "Will you at least try?"

  I shake my head, smiling. "Okay, let's do this."

  "I'll go first. When I get halfway around the pool, you start. Good?" I nod, and immediately laugh when he takes his position and starts galloping around the pool. He even has his hand in the air like he's holding an imaginary rein. He starts slapping behind him like he's getting the horse to speed up, and that has me near hysterics.

  "You better start now. Otherwise, I'm going to catch up."

  "I didn't know it was a race."

  "You're still talking."

  "Oh, shit!" I shout, taking my position and quickly starting to gallop around. The cold air brushes up against my face, but instead of it feeling bitter, it's actually quite exhilarating. I glance over at this strange, sexy man, and throw my head back, laughing again. If anyone catches us, we'll be in a straightjacket faster than Santa can deliver his Christmas presents.

  "See, I told you this would be fun."

  "You're absolutely crazy, do you know that?" I shout back, giggling again. I start to feel a tug on my lungs, which pulls a little on my ribs, but I refuse to stop. I'm having way too much fun.

  "I'd rather be crazy than dull."

  "Ain't that the truth,” I shout back.

  He glances across and starts picking up the pace. "I'm gaining on you."

  My eyes widening, I quicken my steps, trying to gain equal amount of distance between us. "No, you're not," I tease, but that only makes him speed up more. "Hey, you're not playing fair."

  "I never said I would."

  Even though I'm tired, the adrenaline keeps me going, and keeps me laughing. I haven't laughed like this in a long time. He kicks it up a notch by singing "El Paso" by Marty Robbins, and I'm soon joining in, both of us laughing like loons as we keep on galloping.

  "What the fuck is this?"

  Our laughter, quickly followed by our gallop, stops dead at the sound of a very familiar pissed voice. Owen's standing a few feet away, his forehead crinkling in anger. He spots me, out of breath, and I swear a growling hum escapes his lips.

  "You shouldn't be out here when you're still recovering. What are you thinking?" I go to answer, but he fixes his angry gaze on the stranger I had been cavorting with. "When did you get here?"

  "I arrived around an hour ago," the stranger answers.

  "You could have fucking called, Ethan!"

  My eyes widen at the name. No, it couldn't be, could it? Surely this isn't the infamous son Owen hasn't seen in years?

  "It's nice to see you too, Dad."

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  Going Under

  Evanescence

  Five months ago

  The last two days have been nothing short of perfect. We had spent it wrapped up in each other’s arms, with no sign of one of us wanting to leave. It was only when we ran out of condoms and I brought up work last night that Owen said we should get back before our absence raises suspicion.

  Reluctantly, Owen left me behind to go home first, promising to send a car to collect me later. He said that if we arrived home together after being away so long it wouldn't look good. I had agreed, of course, and since his departure around four hours ago, I had been doing nothing but daydreaming while staring out at the lake. It had only been a few hours since we used the very last condom and I was desperate for more. I had lost my virginity when I was eighteen to a boy named Travis who I had been dating for almost a year. I only did it because I felt I owed it to him for waiting that long. It was a lot of fumbling at the beginning, and the first time hurt like a bitch, but eventually, we found our rhythm and I learned to enjoy it in the end. However, since being with Owen, I realize now how amateur Travis and I were. We didn't know any better, both being virgins and having no one else to compare to, but now I know. Now, I definitely know.

  I close my eyes on a smile, wrapping myself up into a ball as I sit on the chair by the lake. The car was supposed to have been here a half hour ago, but I don't mind the lateness. I could stay like this forever.

  I don't know how long I'm lost in a daydream when a honking sound outside snaps me out of it. I grab my bag by my feet and launch myself out of the house, eager to get back and see Owen. I hadn't heard from him since he left, and despite not wanting it to bother me, it does.

  Outside, I find a smiling Brandon walking up to take my bag from me. "Good afternoon, Savannah."

  "Hi Brandon," I reply. "How's your day been?"

  His face falls a little, causing me concern. "It had started off well, but unfortunately Mr. Montgomery's mother had a heart attack yesterday and was rushed to the hospital. As you can imagine, Mr. Montgomery is very distressed."

  "Oh my God!" I cry out, a hand over my mouth. Owen had been with me while his mother lay in hospital. He must be beside himself. "Is she all right?"

  Placing my bag in the trunk, he turns to me, opening the door for me to get in. "She's stable for now."

  "Is Owen at the hospital?" He nods. "Can you take me there?"

  "Of course."

  I waste no time getting in the car, and Brandon wastes no time shutting the door behind me and driving off. The whole journey there, I sit, biting my nails, staring out at the beautiful summer's day. Looking out at it, you wouldn't believe something so horrible happened.

  Around an hour later, we arrive at the hospital with Brandon telling me he’ll be available when needed. I thank him, asking which floor I need to be on.

  Armed with the details, I make my way to the fifth floor, and glance a look at the door numbers, trying to find room 512.

  I’m at 508, then 509 before rushing the rest of the way till I reach 512 and knock. When I don't hear anything, I push the door open a little to find both Owen and Mom staring in my direction. Owen immediately glances away, staring back at his mother lying on the bed hooked up to a machine.

  "How is she?" I ask.

  My mother answers. "Still stable. It's any ones guess how long it will take before she's off the ventilator."

  I glance in Owen's direction, who has yet to say anything. He's probably too upset. I know how much he loves his mother, so he must be struggling now.

  I offer to get coffee and take myself off to find the cafeteria. When I get back, we sit and wait, my mom playing with her phone while Owen just sits, watching.

  Around three hours go by when suddenly there's a flicker of Owen's mom's finger on the bed. She mumbles, but can't speak with the ventilator.

  "Hold on, Mom. I'm going to get someone."

  Owen flies from his seat and shouts for a doctor to come help. I'm ushered out, and pretty soon, two nurses and a doctor tend to Mrs. Montgomery.

  After ten minutes, I can't help bu
t sneak a peek inside. Mrs. Montgomery is still asleep, but what's encouraging is Owen's bright smile.

  "That's great, doctor. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," he replies, a hand on Owen's shoulder. "She's still sedated, so it will take a while before she's fully conscious. I suggest you go home and get some rest. She will still be here in the morning. Her vitals are strong, which is great news."

  My mother, already grabbing her handbag, is the first out of her seat. "That's great. Thank you, Doctor." She turns to Owen. "Come on, darling. There's not much you can do just sitting there. You can come back in the morning."

  Owen snaps his head to my mom, practically growling in her direction. She at least has the sense to look away. My mom's not one for tactfulness.

  "I appreciate your help, Doctor," Owen says, deciding to ignore my mother for now. "If there's any change, please call me."

  "Most certainly."

  Without so much as a word, we leave the hospital, and Brandon takes us back home. In the car, everyone is silent, and it makes the ten-minute journey feel like a lifetime. There's an air of thick tension in the car I can't put my finger on right now, but something's not quite right.

  I almost leap out of the car when it comes to a stop outside the house. My mother stalks in first, her head held high as Owen and I follow. Brandon tags behind, my bag in tow, and tells me he will place it on my bed.

  "Thank you," I respond.

  "Ugh, I smell like hospital," my mother snaps, screwing up her nose as she sniffs herself. "I'm off to take a shower."

  Without a backward glance, my mother starts to walk up the stairs. There’s movement out the corner of my eye as Owen disappears into his office. I stand a few seconds, wondering what to do. My inability to walk away has my feet moving.

  I don't even knock on his door. When I push forward, glancing in, Owen is standing by his liquor cabinet, pouring himself a very large Scotch. He doesn't look my way at first, but when I close the door and approach him, his eyes narrow, an unexpected scowl on his face.

  "What do you want?"

  Confusion fills me, making my heart beat rapidly. "I came in here to see if you were okay."

  He takes a swig of his drink and sits down. "Well, now you know."

  Still befuddled, I take a step closer, until I'm standing at his desk. "Owen, what's wrong?"

  He snaps his head up, his eyes looking dangerously dark. "What's wrong? You're asking what's wrong? Because of you, I wasn't there for my mother when she needed me. Because of you, I was never aware until a whole fucking day after the fact."

  My heart rate kicks up a notch as my anger spikes. "You're seriously blaming me for your mom's heart attack?"

  He jumps up from his seat so suddenly, I step back. "If you hadn't spent the last two months wiggling that fucking ass of yours in front of me, this would have never happened. You think just because I gave you those two days you mean something to me, huh? Guess what—it was just pussy. Fucking great pussy, but pussy never keeps me away from people I love."

  Tears spring to my eyes at the cruelty of his words. He surveys my devastated reaction, but if seeing me upset does anything to that normally kind heart of his, he doesn't show it.

  "What happened at the lake house was a two-way street. Don't try to make out like I kept you there. You could have left anytime you wanted. I'm sorry your mom had a heart attack, and I'm sorry it happened when you were with me. But you can't blame this on me. You came to me. You are the one who made that decision."

  A snarl forms on one side of his mouth. "Never again. You may offer me extra services like the good little slut you are, but I no longer require them."

  Fresh tears spring my eyes and I spin on my heels, heading straight out the door.

  Taking two steps at a time, I race to my room, practically throwing myself on my mattress and burying my face into my pillow to cry. I deserve better than this.

  After spending two glorious days at the lake house, I'm now back to square one.

  Where do I go from here?

  Father Figure

  George Michael

  Present

  "Why are you here?"

  I stand, silently watching Ethan round the swimming pool until he's at my side. "It's Christmas and it's been a while. Considering you got married and have a ready-made family…" he chances a quick glance at me, "I thought it would be nice to bury the hatchet and come visit." He turns to me, and whispers, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself before now. I was kind of having too much fun."

  He winks at me, and I smile. When I turn my head, Owen is there, his jaw ticking in anger. He's obviously not happy with me having fun with his son.

  Well, screw you!

  "You should have called. We're in the middle of a party."

  I frown at Owen's indifference to his own flesh and blood. I knew he was never that close to him, but this is downright cruel.

  "I apologize. I will make sure to let you know in advance next time."

  "Owen, what in the world are you doing out here in the cold?" my mother asks, appearing from nowhere, a thick fur coat wrapped around her. When she spots Ethan, she stops in her tracks. "Oh," she says, a predatory smile on her lips, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize we had company." She walks forward, sticking her hand out for him to shake. "Sarah Montgomery, nice to meet you."

  He shakes her hand back, smiling. "So, you're my new mom."

  Her eyes widen. "Ethan?" she asks, completely bewildered.

  "One and the same."

  "Oh, wow. It's so nice to meet you. How long are you planning on staying? Please tell me you're at least here for Christmas?"

  "I am. Well…I was hoping to be."

  "Why, of course! You're family. Come, come. We must get you out of the cold." My mother turns and walks away.

  As Ethan starts to follow, Owen grabs his arm. "You better not cause any trouble while you're here." Owen releases his arm and lets him go before his glare hones in on me.

  "You've been barely out of hospital two weeks and I catch you frolicking around the pool like a fucking monkey."

  "I'm fine."

  "I don't fucking care!" he snarls back. "You were in hospital with a bad infection. Remember that? I certainly do."

  Feeling my own anger rise, I snarl. "Don't act like you fucking care, Owen. You don't. This," I say, waving my hands to the house, the grounds, and the pool, "all of this…it’s a possession to you, just like I am. You want to control me, but this girl is not for controlling."

  I start to walk forward, but he grabs my arm, tugging me until I'm next to him—until one side of his body is pressed against mine. I hate that my belly dances in response. I hate that my heart skips a little beat at his touch.

  "If we were alone right now, my cock would be so far in your cunt, you wouldn't know where I start and you end."

  I smirk back at him, trying to seem unfazed. "Missing my great pussy, are we, Daddy?” I remember a time not so long ago when he called me great pussy.

  Owen's nostrils flare with suppressed rage. That familiar sense of desire spikes through me. Our relationship has always been rather unconventional, but it somehow worked—and we always end up under the sheets…so to speak.

  "Stay away from Ethan."

  "Why?" I snap back, needing him to say the words.

  His nostrils flare once more. "Because I said so. Ethan's bad news."

  That, I can't understand. From first impressions, he seems really nice. The only horrid behavior I have seen so far is Owen's. If Ethan has been bad in the past, is it any wonder with a dad like him?

  "You can't elaborate, can you? Even when pressed with the opportunity, you remain silent." Owen closes his eyes, his lips forming a hard line. I lean over and whisper, "After watching you with your only son, you and my mother deserve each other."

  I snap my arm away from his grip, and with my head held high, I make my way back to the house. Owen has had plenty of opportunities to talk to me about us, but he never has. Sure, my mother has be
en around a lot, but that wouldn't normally stop him.

  I get back in the house, grateful for the warmth now that my arms are ice-cold. Inside, I find my mother introducing Ethan to anyone who will listen. She’s animated, as she parades him around the room, smiling like an alley cat. Ethan glances my way, and I smirk toward him. As if he feels somewhat nonchalant, he shrugs his shoulders, going with the flow.

  Once all the pleasantries are over, he escapes, making his way in my direction. All the while, I'm highly amused by the whole debacle. "You've finally managed to break free, I see." I giggle. He raises an eyebrow.

  "Is it always like this?"

  "You mean filled with drunk, married couples who like to gawk and prowl over a new plaything? Yes." Owen enters, and his eyes dart around the room like he’s looking for someone. Probably me. I grab Ethan's arm and start to tug. "Come with me."

  Trying to sneak out as quickly and quietly as possible, Ethan and I manage to make our way from of the living room into the hallway. Eventually, I lead us both into the library, where no one will find us.

  Shutting the door, I giggle some more.

  "Who are you running from?" Ethan asks, an amused expression on his face.

  "Your dad."

  "Why do you need to run from him?"

  "Because he doesn't trust you with me."

  "Why? Does he think you're going to rape me?" My eyes widen, and Ethan smirks. "Because I'm totally down with that. I'm all yours," he says, waving his hands across his body.

  "Ethan!" I screech, not quite believing he just said that. I then hear a noise outside, so I grab his arm, shushing him.

  When the noise vanishes and Ethan feels me relax, he says, "Do you do this at every party?"

  I glance his way and realize how intimately close we are. I smile, moving away from him, and start trailing my fingers along the rims of each book. I love the feel and the smell of paperbacks. Sometimes it's just nice to be in a room filled with stories, old and new. It makes you feel part of something, however joyful or terrifying that might be.

 

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