by T. K. Leigh
“Please, Wes,” I murmur, my tone bordering on desperation. “I need you.” My mouth still against his, I nibble on his bottom lip. Any reluctance on his part vanishes, his kiss voracious and consuming as his tongue plunges inside my mouth. He fists my hair, his free hand gripping my hip somewhat painfully, but I make no move to get him to loosen his grasp or to stop.
I run my hands through his hair, tugging, attempting to take control of the kiss. My movements become slow, deep, reverent, reminding me of the kisses I’d been the lucky recipient of from Drew. Sweet, yet intense. Restrained, yet erotic. Memorable, yet too easily forgotten in the cloud of alcohol he consumed. It doesn’t matter that years have passed. The pain I endured because of Drew’s inability to follow through on his promise is still as prominent as if it had just happened. That pain is why I need to do this, why I need to marry Wes.
Tearing away, my chest heaves as I stare into Wes’ midnight blue eyes, the pupils dilated. I reach for his chest, running my hands up and down, then ripping his t-shirt over his head. “Bedroom. Now,” I demand in a breathy voice.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” With haste, he grabs my hand, pulling me through the living room, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom. The instant we cross the threshold, I reach for his jeans, my fingers fumbling with his belt.
“Damn, baby.” He palms my back, jerking me hard and fast against him. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
I can’t tell him that my tear-filled confession to Drew pushed me over the edge. That while Wes had me pinned against the wall, it was Drew’s hands I imagined on my skin. That when he kissed me, it was Drew’s lips I craved.
“I just need to feel you.” Another lie. I don’t need to feel Wes. I just need to feel something other than the crippling reality that this is a mistake. I don’t want it to be a mistake. I want it to be real, to give my heart to a man who’ll never break it.
Yanking the belt from around his waist, I crush my lips back to his, my kiss filled with anguish. Wes is only too happy to match my eagerness, confusing my desperation for desire. He lowers the zipper of his pants, his mouth never leaving mine as he steps out of his jeans. Steering me toward his bed, he helps me out of my pants, both of us frantic to lose ourselves in each other, but for two completely different reasons. He needs me. I need him to help me forget.
With a hungered growl, he runs his hands up and down my frame, peppering kisses along my neck, my collarbone, cupping my breasts. “Do you feel how hard I am?” He thrusts against me, pinching my nipple. I yelp, the pain remarkably pleasurable.
“I do.” I close my eyes, letting the moment consume me.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes,” I moan.
“You got it, baby.” He grips my hips, spinning me around. A rough hand fists my hair and he forces my stomach against the mattress. He tears my panties from me and parts my legs.
Unsure how to react to this new, somewhat callous side of Wes, my body stiffens. The familiar sound of a packet opening echoes in the space. Before I can tell him this is a bad idea, that I shouldn’t be doing this when I’m consumed by thoughts of another man, he pushes into me. I play along, pretending this is what I need. I want to need him like this, to enjoy it.
I still feel absolutely nothing.
“God, you feel so good like this,” he hisses through his teeth, his motions increasing.
I moan once more, because that’s probably what he wants. My hands clench around the comforter, balling it, and I shut my eyes, imagining a different man behind me, filling me, his hands on my skin. A tingle spreads through me at the thought. Instead of being in Wes’ bedroom, I’m back in mine, back in that moment when I wish time could stand still.
Seven Years Ago
My confession hung between us, my heart racing at what I’d just admitted.
“Because he has the power to destroy me in a way I’ll never recover from.”
How could I say that? How could I admit my feelings for Drew so freely? Sure, I didn’t come right out and admit I was talking about him, but he had to know. Would he use this information to hurt me all over again? Was this all just part of whatever sadistic game he liked to play with my heart?
Before I could say anything to dampen the impact, Drew’s strong hands cupped my cheeks, his eyes filled with sincerity. He pressed his lips to mine, causing my entire body to momentarily stiffen. I’d dreamt about his kiss since that summer ten years ago. I never thought I’d have the opportunity again, not after watching him date woman after woman, then come home and announce he’d married a hockey groupie he barely knew. Now, I finally had another taste, but for how long? Was this going to be just like last time? Would he avoid me for months, years, then pretend it never happened?
“Kiss me, Brooklyn,” he whispered against my lips when I remained unmoving. “I’m so sorry about everything. How I...” He trailed off. His fingers grazed over my face, a stomach-clenching shiver rolling through me. “Please. Help me feel again.” The raw emotion and vulnerability in those words cut me in two. It was so different from the cocky, self-assured man he’d turned into these past few years.
“Oh, Drew…,” I exhaled, pressing my lips against his, our kiss warm, tender. I thought he was a good kisser all those years ago, but he was even better now, the way his tongue tangled with mine making it so I never wanted to be apart from him again.
I no longer obsessed about the possibility that this would be a repeat of ten years ago. That I’d give him my heart, only for him to shatter it. All I cared about was this moment, of enjoying everything Drew was willing to give me, regardless of how fleeting it may be.
Deepening the kiss, I ran my fingers through his hair. It was the off-season, so he kept it relatively short, the usual facial hair he sported during the hockey season replaced with a bit of two-day stubble. It was rough against my skin, but in a way that made me burn for him even more.
I hooked my legs around his waist, moving my hips with the rhythm he set as he kissed me so reverently, like he needed my lips on his to breathe, like he’d hungered for me for years, like his heart was made just to love me. In that moment, lost in the sensation of his mouth on mine, his body on mine, his fingers interlocking with mine, keeping my arms secured above my head, I felt it was.
“Brooklyn…,” he moaned, moving from my mouth, down my jawline, nipping on my neck.
“Yes,” I breathed, lightheaded, dizzy, the room seeming to spin around me, despite only having consumed one beer the entire evening. I was drunk on the man on top of me, thirsty for more of his intoxicating kisses.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve thought about this moment? About how you would feel, how you would taste, how your body would respond to mine?”
I quivered, my core tightening, my soul singing.
“It’s been so long,” he continued, his tongue drawing a lazy line along my collarbone. “I’ve tried to stay away, do the right thing, fulfill the promise I made.”
His fingers found the hem of my t-shirt and raised it slightly, exposing my stomach. I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but as he slithered down my body, a hunger I hadn’t experienced in years swallowed my words. I tried to keep my breathing and heart rate under control. It was damn near impossible, especially when he reached my belly button and glanced up, meeting my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Brooklyn.”
He brought his mouth to my stomach, his kiss tender against my skin. Wanting to imprint everything about this to memory, I closed my eyes, focusing on his lips exploring my body. They were smooth, supple, unyielding.
“For too many years, I’ve imagined how your skin would feel, would taste. How your cheeks would blush with a desire you couldn’t hide. Because I know you, Brooklyn...”
My eyes opened, meeting his that were dark with a wanton desire. He carefully lifted my shirt even more, exposing the bottom of my breasts. Every inch of me tightened in anticipation as his tongue unhurriedly
made its way north.
“As much as you’ve tried to hide it, as much as you’ve tried to deny it, you can’t. Not anymore. You want me. You never got over me. Just like I never got over you.”
He raised my t-shirt the final few inches, exposing my alert nipples. Pausing, he leaned back, staring at me, not saying a word. My breaths filled the room, the only other sound that of an occasional barking dog in the neighborhood where we grew up. The pounding of my heart seemed to echo against my eardrums, the intensity of Drew’s gaze unhinging me.
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, never feeling so vulnerable and exposed as I did at that moment. I wasn’t fooling myself. I’d seen the women Drew had dated. While I had an ample chest, it was nothing compared to what he was used to.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he crooned lazily, the effects of the alcohol obvious. He brought his forefinger and thumb to one of my nipples and tugged.
Sparks shot through me, a carnal need for his teeth to do the same thing filling me. I arched my back off the bed, having trouble making sense of these unique sensations overwhelming me. I’d been intimate in the past, but they were all boys. Drew was a man. The only man I wanted.
“I’m a fool for hurting you, for not saying fuck it and giving you my heart.” He lowered his mouth to my breast, his motions warm, reverent, loving, at complete odds with the fiery desire in his eyes. “I’m a fool for not making you mine a long time ago.”
I moaned, needing more. More of his words, more of his touch, desperate to experience every inch of him. It was the only way I’d know I wasn’t dreaming, because this was all so surreal.
“God, you taste better than I imagined. And I’ve certainly imagined.” He lightly pulled on my nipple with his teeth. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. The fire that had been burning for him the past few years…hell, decades…was growing out of control, washing over me, desire turning into uncontrollable desperation.
“Drew, please,” I begged, my hips thrusting against him. My brain no longer catalogued all the reasons this was a bad idea. The only thing I cared about was feeling Drew on top of me, his lips scorching my skin, our bodies joining so I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.
“Say you need me.” He lifted his eyes to mine, a vulnerability in his gaze.
“I need you, Drew,” I breathed. “I’ve always needed you.”
“I’ve always needed you, Brooklyn.” He returned to me, his mouth poised on mine. His warmth tickled my lips, my nerves standing on end as I braced for his kiss.
He ran a light finger down my face, a chill trickling through me. The anticipation was killing me. If I didn’t feel his lips on mine, didn’t lose myself in him soon, I feared I’d perish.
Finally, he pressed his mouth back to mine, his tongue exploring me once more, as if discovering something new with each kiss. One hand digging into my hair, his other journeyed a torturous trail down my body before landing on my hip. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my core clenching at the heat of him between my thighs. Then he slid his hand along my hip bone and between our two bodies. With incredible expertise, it disappeared into the leg of my sleep shorts. I loosened my grip around him. He leisurely lifted the line of my panties, a moan escaping my throat when his fingers neared that spot I wanted them, that spot I’d only dreamed he’d touch ever since I’d developed hormones.
“Drew,” I begged again, my heart racing, my chest heaving, my brain fuzzy. “Please. I need you.”
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to hear those words come out of your mouth,” he murmured against my lips, kissing me at the same time his finger landed on my center, both of us moaning. “Damn.” He pulled back slightly, his fingers spreading my slickness all over me. I’d never been this turned on, this ready to fall apart in a matter of seconds. “You’re so wet.”
I bit my bottom lip, gripping the sheets in my fists as my body climbed higher and higher. My breathing grew labored as I did everything to think of something other than how perfect, how right, how fucking wonderful it was to have Drew’s hand between my legs.
“More,” I murmured in a throaty voice, then flung my eyes open. I reached for his neck, urging his lips back to mine. “I need more of you. I need you inside me.”
He groaned, slipping a finger inside me, massaging me. “And I’d love nothing more than to be inside you, Brooklyn. You have no idea how much I’ve fantasized about this, imagined the look on your face as I make you come over and over again until you beg me to stop because you can’t take anymore.”
I moaned louder, every muscle in my body clenching as I loomed closer to the peak.
“But I want to be sober the first time I’m inside you...” He licked his lips. “You deserve to have all of me the first time I make love to you. Because this isn’t just sex. It would never just be sex with you. So tonight, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Tomorrow, when I wake up with you in my arms, I plan on making love to you, Brooklyn. Because I love you. I always have.”
Present Day
“God, baby. You are incredible.” Wes’ voice snaps me back to the present, reminding me Drew isn’t here, that I made a conscious decision not to be with him.
“Harder,” I beg, praying the deeper Wes thrusts into me, the more I’ll want him. But it only reminds me of Drew. Of the way his arms enveloped me as we slept together that night. Of the way his eyes looked upon me as if I were the only person he saw. Of the way his breath mixed with mine in the most tantalizing of ways. Of the way he made me drop my guard and love him all over again.
True, deep, passionate love.
Consuming, hypnotic, unparalleled love.
Painful, tragic, unrequited love.
Ignorant of my fantasies about another man, Wes’ breathing grows more uneven, his hold on me tightening, and I know he’s close to unraveling. So I moan louder, making him think I’m about to lose all control.
“That’s right.” He drives harder and harder, frantic and unbalanced. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this.”
“I’m close,” I lie, wanting this to be over. Wanting to crawl into a corner and never come out again. Wanting to run away and start over where nobody knows who I am, nobody knows what I’ve done, nobody knows how ugly and black my soul is.
He reaches around, finding my center, his motions harsh and relentless, a complete one-eighty from the soulful and fulfilling experience when Drew gave me several of the most earth-shattering orgasms of my life. But I make Wes think I like it, my moans and pants coming quicker, faster, more intense, crying out as I pretend to come undone around him so he’ll stop touching me. That’s all it takes. He grunts, pumping a few more times as he finds his release.
I remain still, turning my head to stare out the windows, ashamed, like I just cheated on Wes by thinking of someone else during sex. Am I a horrible person because of that? Don’t people fantasize about other things during sex all the time? Isn’t that all sex is? Just one big fantasy?
“You drive me fucking crazy.” Wes leans down, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder blade as he slides out of me.
I go to push myself up and he helps me, my muscles sore and shaky. I avoid his eyes, not wanting him to see the truth within.
“Hey.” His voice is sweet. He lifts my chin, forcing my gaze to his. A small smile pulls on his lips. “Thank you.”
I furrow my brow. “For what? Letting you fuck me?”
His expression lightens briefly. “Well, as incredible as it was, that’s not what I mean. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to marry me.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?” I reply, but my words seem more like an argument I’m making to myself. “You’re caring, compassionate, loving. And you love me.” I place my hand on his cheek. “Out of all the women you could be with, you chose me. I’m the one who should thank you.”
“I don’t want a single day to go by that I don’t tell you how much I appreciate you. I know things have been crazy lately and we�
�ve both been busy. I promise I’ll never take you for granted. I love you, Brooklyn.” He presses his lips to mine, his kiss gentle, a stark contrast to the way he just screwed me.
If I felt ashamed for fantasizing about another man while having sex with Wes before, that’s nothing compared to the guilt I feel as his heartfelt words wrap around me. He’ll never treat me with anything but the utmost respect and adoration, never take me for granted.
Why am I so willing to throw it all away for a man who will?
Chapter Two
Drew
This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare. I’ll soon wake up to the sound of two small voices giggling as I pretend to sleep, just as we do every morning. But we already did that today. Then I walked them to school, just like every other weekday, and was about to leave for work when my entire world crumbled beneath me.
My stomach churns, my chest tightens, my lungs constrict, a fear unlike any I’ve faced in my life coursing through me, leaving me anxious, panicked, on edge. I didn’t know what else to do, so I hopped on the vintage Triumph motorcycle my dad left me and took off to see the one person I need, the one person who can hold me together when I’m minutes away from unraveling. I promised to give her space, but I can’t. Not now. Not after opening the envelope the process server handed me less than an hour ago.
“Can I help you?” a short blonde asks as I continue past the reception area of the cramped office building.
When I don’t acknowledge her, she jumps up and chases after me. I’d like to see someone try to stop me today. I’ve never been so filled with rage, so ready to break down and scream.
“Sir, please! You can’t come in here unless you have an appointment!”
