Forbidden Desires

by Roberts, Jaimie

  "I think I can go faster now," Ethan says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I glance over him with a smile. "Really?" He nods, so I nudge Katrina with a foot, clucking at her. Before long, we're all trotting through the fields at the back of the house. The wind is freezing against my skin, but it's also freeing. The bitter cold invades my nostrils, causing them to burn a little, but I love it.

  "This is fun!" Ethan shouts, laughing. I giggle, nudging Katrina again. She jolts into a canter. Ethan whoops with excitement, but I'm more concentrating on the euphoria I always get when riding my favorite horse. From the moment we got the horses, I’ve counted myself so lucky to be able to do this whenever I want.

  And it's all because of the tyrant catching up alongside me. I turn to him, completely forgetting how mad I am at him, and offer him a challenging smile. Owen replies by nudging Trojan, causing him to gallop faster. Seeing this as a challenge, Katrina quickens her pace. We're racing, and so is my heart as it beats in tune with the thumps of the hooves pounding against the ground. I'm so engrossed in beating Owen's ass, I forget poor Ethan is behind us probably scared to death.

  I swing my head back to make sure Ethan's okay to find he's nowhere to be seen. In my panic, I call out Owen's name. "Stop! We have to stop. I can't see Ethan."

  I pull at the reins as Owen looks behind him. As we come to a stop, we make a move back from where we came to find Ethan lying in the field ahead, Ralf taking watch beside him.

  I nudge Katrina to quicken my pace, guilt clawing at my insides. When I'm within earshot, I call Ethan's name.

  "Ethan, Ethan! Are you okay?"

  He has his eyes closed, but he moans a little. I come to a halt, quickly getting off to tend to Ethan. I bend down, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  "Ethan, talk to me."

  He opens his eyes, then grabs my hand. "I think I decided to run before I could walk…excuse the pun." He laughs, causing me to. When a slight wince of pain replaces his brief moment of joy, my smile disappears.

  "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

  Ethan squeezes my hand. "This is not your fault. I had a good time up until I lost my footing and fell off. Luckily Ralf knew what was happening before I did and slowed right down. If it wasn't for him, I think I would have really injured myself."

  I look over his body, still feeling awful. "Can you get up?"

  "I'll try." With him gripping my hand, we manage to get him in a sitting position.

  "Where does it hurt?"

  Ethan glances at me with a slightly amused expression. "I'm fine. I think I just got the wind knocked out of me. Whatever it is, I don't really want to get on Ralf again. Maybe I can walk back."

  I gasp at the thought. "Ethan, it's thirty degrees out and around two miles back to the house. You'll freeze by the time we get back. How do you feel about riding with me?"

  "This is fucking crazy. He's a big boy, he can get back on the horse," Owen fires back.

  I suck in an angry breath, turning in his direction. "Ethan could be injured, and considering this is his first time and he's already fallen, I don't blame him. At least if he's on the back with me, I can coax Katrina back to the stables. Knowing how good Ralf is, he'll follow."

  Owen grits his teeth, obviously angry at the thought of Ethan riding on the same horse as me, but I don't give a shit about his possessiveness and petty jealously. This isn't about Ethan possibly copping a feel.

  Ignoring Owen, I pull Ethan up to stand and offer him to lean on me. Owen huffs, muttering shit about how Ethan's faking his injury and milking it for all its worth.

  I can't believe Owen right now. He's supposed to be the father in this scenario—the adult—and he's behaving like a petulant child.

  "Here, lean on Katrina for a moment while I tend to Ralf." Ethan nods, smiling, and I turn to Owen, who is giving Ethan a death stare.

  "You may be pulling the wool over Savannah's eyes, but I know exactly what you're up to, son."

  "I don't know what you mean, Dad. I fell off a horse. I could have been badly injured."

  "But you weren't, were you? If Savannah wasn't here, you'd be doing cartwheels in the field."

  Having had enough of this, I shout, "Oh, for God's sake, will you pack it in! This was supposed to have been a nice horse ride and it's been nothing but temper tantrums and falls."

  "This wouldn't have happened if Dad wasn't here."

  "Don't fucking get me started, Ethan. You won't like where it will go."

  Practically growling, I shorten Ralf's reins, giving him a little stroke before moving back to Katrina.

  "Let's go. I want to get home to the sanctuary of my room." I round to Ethan, my angry face softening when I catch how crestfallen he seems. "Are you ready?" He nods, so I get on first, then offer my arm to help him on. When he climbs on and makes a point of wrapping both arms around my waist, Owen growls, and my breathing picks up a notch. Despite trying my hardest not to look, my head spins in his direction. The heat of his reaction has butterflies dancing in my belly. Owen's jaw ticks and his eyes are dark with murderous intent as he glares at Ethan. I shake my head.

  "Come on. Let's go," I say, nudging Katrina. When we start to move, I look back to make sure Ralf is following, and like the good little horse he is, he moves slowly beside Trojan and Owen.

  Ethan keeps his hands wrapped tightly around me. The thought would normally make my head spin, but the fact that Owen is here makes that feeling obsolete.

  "Are you okay back there?" I ask Ethan.

  "Never been better."

  The flirtatious sound in his voice causes me to wince a little.

  As we move and the adrenaline dies down, the cold hits me, making me shiver.

  "I'm sorry I made you cold,” Ethan whispers, squeezing his arms around me. “If you want to move faster, I can take it."

  "Yes, let's get the fuck home. It's freezing out here."

  I swing my head back, glaring at Owen. "I'm not going faster. Ethan took a nasty fall, for God's sake. If you want to go faster, then do so."

  Owen gives me a determined look. "You know for a fact I'm not leaving. End of fucking discussion."

  I want to shout, scream, and ask the gods why! Why is this man such an asshole? But more than that…why is it everything he does and says crawls under my skin and never lets go? Like an addiction, he's dangerous. The more my body craves him, the more my head screams to let him go.

  As we slowly make our journey back to the stables, I'm reminded all too well I have this gorgeous, single, uncomplicated man with his arms wrapped around me, keeping me from getting hypothermia. A man who—despite Owen's protests—has been nothing short of the perfect gentleman. I don't know what the hell Owen meant when he said I couldn't be alone with him. Maybe it's just jealously. Maybe he's just acting out in true Owen Montgomery fashion. Whatever it is, I’m at a crossroads. Our relationship was fun in the beginning, but now, I need to admit to myself what I have been fighting all along.

  I’m in love with my stepfather.

  "We're almost there now," I say, seeing the stables around two hundred yards ahead.

  Ethan groans behind me. "I don't want to move," he whispers in my ear. "You smell fucking incredible."

  I don't say anything for fear Owen will hear me, but my heart certainly flutters at the compliment.

  "Thank fuck," Owen blurts, causing my eyeroll to almost hurt my eyes.

  "You're so grouchy."

  Ethan's laugh vibrates through me. "That's a good name for my dad."

  I bite my lip, waiting for the almighty bellow from Owen, but it never comes.

  I pull on the reins a little to make Katrina stop. "I'm going to have to get off now and open the barn doors, but stay there a moment. Just duck your head when we go in, okay?"

  "Can't you stay on the horse with me?"

  I chuckle. "Then we'll never get off and into the house."

  "But at least I'll still have my arms wrapped around you."

  The almighty growl t
hat comes from behind us doesn't go unnoticed. Owen jumps off his horse and stomps toward the barn to open the doors.

  "He doesn't look happy," Ethan whispers, chuckling behind me.

  I want to tell him be quiet, but I also don't want to say anything for fear Owen will hear me and start asking questions.

  Jeez, what a pickle. Two gorgeous men battling to gain some sort of power, and I’m stuck in the middle, the tug in their war. Two gorgeous men—father and son—both fighting for my attention.

  With the doors now open, Owen guides Katrina in as Ethan and I lean forward. A slight humming sound from Ethan vibrates through me as he rests on my back. It's only a fleeting moment of intimacy, but it certainly sounds as though Ethan's enjoying it.

  As soon as we're through, Owen reaches out to me. "Fun and games are over now." His normal light, sparkling green eyes are dark and dangerous as his hand stretches out, rigid in the air. His intent speaks of murder, but by fuck does it piss me off at how much it turns me on.

  I take his hand, allowing him to guide me down, and I swear Ethan swipes his hand over my ass as I fall into Owen's arms. He catches me and ever so slightly squeezes me—something invisible to the naked eye, but I'm reading his message loud and clear. I'm so lost, I forget where I am until a clearing of Ethan's throat reminds me.

  Snapping out of my stupor, I turn around, trying my best to smile for Ethan, even though my loins are deadly serious for Owen right now. I offer my hand out to him, and he slides down, almost toppling me over. Ethan rights us by wrapping his arms around me.

  "Oops, sorry about that," he says, smirking like the devil at his dad.

  "I fucking bet you are," Owen replies through gritted teeth.

  Not wanting to play this game any longer, I move to tend to the horses before putting each one back in their stables. By the time I'm finished, both Owen and Ethan have refused to move, sizing each other up like opponents.

  This is getting ridiculous.

  I check the time. Already past six. Dinner is planned for seven, so I best get inside and get another shower.

  "I'm going to my room," I announce, then notice Ethan slightly wince. "Are you okay?"

  "My back’s a bit sore and it feels like the wind’s been zapped out of me. Other than that, I'm good."

  "Come on. I suggest you take a long bath before dinner to soak your sore muscles."

  "Will you draw it for me?" he teases.

  "No, she fucking will not."

  Smirking again, Ethan replies, "Thought there was no harm in asking."

  "Savannah's your stepsister. Off fucking limits," he growls.

  "Likewise with you, Dad." Owen grabs his collar and pulls him up from the ground.

  "Don't you ever fucking come into my house again and think you can do and say whatever you like. You have no claim here, boy. The sooner you realize that and go back home, the better." Letting Ethan go, he turns to me. "Go home, Savannah. I need to speak to my son. Alone."

  Worrying for Ethan, I say, "I'm not leaving if you're going to hurt him."

  Owen sucks in a deep breath. "I will not ask you again."

  I glance toward Ethan, who offers me a reassuring smile. I turn and leave, but the guilt that emerges eats away at me. Owen's about ready to blow, but surely he won't harm his own son…right?

  Closing my eyes, I take a small breath as I head for the house. The moment I'm through the doors and the warmth hits me, I sigh.

  "Cold, are we?"

  Her snarky voice is crystal clear before she catches my eye, the smell of nicotine hitting my nostrils and burning my throat. I glance to where my mother is sitting by the kitchen door as she smokes a cigarette. Owen's told her countless times not to smoke in the house, but she never listens.

  "Just a little."

  Placing the cigarette to her mouth, she inhales sharply before a cloud of smoke appears in front of her perfectly manicured face. "Be a doll and fetch me a G&T. Today's been hellish."

  I wonder if her definition of hellish is her hairstylist not being around to perk up her witch-like hair.

  Making my mother a drink is the last thing I want to do, but in order to keep the peace, I fetch the gin from the pantry and some tonic and limes from the fridge. I plop two slices of lime in and pour a little gin, secretly wishing it were poison. I'm about to set it down, when Mom says, "I may as well not have the fucking gin with the amount you poured. Come on, Savannah. I thought I brought you up better than that."

  With a sigh, I pour more. "I guess I wasn’t around the day you wanted to give ‘how to get your mother drunk’ lessons."

  "Why do you have to be such a bitch?"

  Not letting those words affect me, I pour the tonic until it reaches the top and walk toward my mother with a bright smile, handing it to her.

  "It seems I've learned from the best." I smirk, then start to walk out when my mom gets up and throws some of her gin onto my favorite riding jacket.

  "Oops, how clumsy of me. I guess you'll need to send that to the drycleaners." Taking her cigarette, she puts it out on my collar, burning a hole through the fabric. The pungent smell of smoke hits my nostrils, almost causing me to gag.

  Her eyes widen in delight. "Oops, missed where all the alcohol spilled. My bad. At least you won’t get burns on that ugly face of yours. It’s a pity you ruined your jacket, though. I know how much you love it since it was my husband who bought it for you. Such a daddy’s girl, aren't we? You’re so worthless, it’s pitiful.”

  Tears threaten to spring from my eyes in anger. My hand itches to strike her, but I force it by my side, determined not to let her see she's won. She wants me to react. That's the whole point. Then she’ll look like the victim and I’ll be the one who's punished.

  Dripping and stinking of gin and smoke, I continue toward the stairs.

  "Make sure you wear black tonight. Looks like you’ve put on weight lately.”

  I grit my teeth and my hands fist, but I put one foot in front of the other and manage to make it to my room in time to fling my ruined jacket and clothes off before launching myself onto the bed to scream into my pillow. It gains nothing other than feeling somewhat better after I'm done.

  Dressed in only a black lace bra and panty set, I'm about to head for the shower when my door opens, revealing none other than the man I'm apparently acting pathetic over.

  Who am I kidding? My mother's right. I am pathetic around him.

  Owen shuts the door behind him and starts to walk toward me. His eyes are dark and charged with lust as they roam every square inch of my body. I will it not to react, but it betrays me. My nipples perk up and my breathing instantly becomes labored.

  "This shit has got to fucking stop. If it doesn't, I'm throwing Ethan out the fucking house."

  When he reaches me, I square my shoulders in anger. "What is wrong with you? You're supposed to be his father and you act like he's a leper."

  "That's because he is!"

  My eyes widen at his callous words. "Jesus, Owen, listen to yourself. You know how much it used to tear me up inside whenever my mother spoke to me the way you do with Ethan."

  "That's different," he growls.

  "How?"

  "Because you never fucking deserved it!"

  "What has he done that's so wrong? What has he done to warrant his father never speaking to him?" I suck in a breath, wondering if I should ask him that same burning question that's swirled through my mind ever since I met him seven months ago. It still has yet to be answered.

  "What did my mother do to warrant trapping you into marriage all those months ago?"

  Owen's eyes widen. He certainly wasn't expecting that. But I'm tired of all the games, the lies, the secrets so obviously held within these walls.

  A look of turmoil crosses his eyes as he glances away, a hand gliding through his luscious locks.

  "I can't tell you. I can't tell you any of it."

  Gritting my teeth, my anger flares. "Can't, or won't?"

  "Is there a difference?"


  "Don't insult your intelligence. You know perfectly well there's a fucking difference. Tell me what's going on."

  Owen closes his eyes, an obvious battle waging in that stubborn brain of his. When he opens them again, he shakes his head. "None of this concerns you. It's for me to deal with."

  My shoulders sag in defeat. I had been holding onto that one speck of tiny hope he would give me something, anything, to show me we're a team. I've just been kidding myself. We’ve never been a team.

  "I get it. It's just sex, right? Silly me for thinking it was anything but."

  I start to walk to the bathroom when his hand grips my arm. I turn to face him, noticing fire in his eyes. "I may act like I don't care, but you and I both know that isn't true. It's never been just sex."

  "Then tell me," I plead. He hesitates a moment, his hand still gripping my arm. When he comes to his conclusion, he releases me. The moment his shoulders slump and he glances away, I exhale an agonizing breath. Tears start to well in my eyes at his refusal to let me in. "I'm going to take a shower."

  I walk away…and this time, he lets me.

  Can’t Help Falling In Love

  Twenty One Pilots

  Three months earlier

  I don't know how long Owen held me in his arms, but it was only when I pulled away that he took me by the hand and led me outside. He gave the police his testimony, with several people coming out to shake his hand, calling him a hero. Owen actually seemed embarrassed by the whole thing, which made him all the more attractive to me. Despite shaking like a leaf from that nightmare, my head was still able to store that information for a later date.

  Owen. A hero.

  He saved a lot of people from possibly getting hurt—including me.

  After Owen gave his statement, the police officer asked for mine. I told him what I remember and asked if Mr. Flores was okay. An hour had gone by in no time and I was eager to know more. Not only that, I really needed to wash up. I was becoming acutely aware I had Mr. Flores's blood on my hands.