by Melissa Jane
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll keep you posted, though. Right now I’m enjoying working away from the office and out of country.”
“I hear you. Take care, love.”
“You, too. Oh, and thanks for everything. You’re more than just an employee to me, you know that, right?”
“Geez, that sun is getting to you. Stay in the shade a while.”
We laugh and say our goodbyes before I take a heavy sip of my cocktail.
“Hey,” I hear a familiar voice call. I turn to see Samantha walking up the sand to join me, looking ridiculously hot in her tiny bikini. “Wanna do some salsa tonight? They’ve got a beach party on at the next resort. We can have dinner and head out.”
I smile at her, seeing the forgiving person she is. When I proposed we escape New York and repair some wounds, Samantha surprised me by being all for it. She saw how much I was suffering and I could see how troubled she was, so together we made the perfect get-away.
“Actually…” she says, her whole demeanor changing, “I think I might just stay in and order room service.”
“Are you crazy? You totally sold me on the idea of going salsa dancing and now you’re—”
“I know, it’s just that…” she glances over my shoulder quickly, her behavior suddenly off, “I think you might be a little busy.”
“Doing what?”
“I thought I might find you here.” His voice is like a knife to my heart and I freeze, terrified to turn around and terrified if I don’t. I look to Samantha. She smiles and reassures me by squeezing my hand before winking and walking away.
For a moment longer, I remain frozen to the spot.
My husband takes the bar stool in front of me and with a finger under my chin, he gently tilts my face to meet his. “Hello, Blythe,” he says warmly.
“How’d you find me?” It’s all I can manage, and I know I sound like a bitch, however unintentional.
After everything that happened, I couldn’t face Shawn, for many reasons. I was wracked with my own guilt over having been with Kane, even though I’d called an end to the marriage. Because those decisions were made based on false information. The other reason was that I simply wasn’t ready to forget all that had happened.
All the lies that were told.
The images that played over in my head, associating Shawn with those girls.
A year of hurt.
It was going to take some rebuilding. And now, as my husband sits in front of me, I couldn’t be more terrified of him.
“When you suddenly disappeared, and weren’t answering my calls, I asked myself… where does my wife love traveling to the most? And the answer’s easy. Cabo.”
Maybe I didn’t want to escape him altogether? Before I realized what I’d done, I was printing off my tickets to Cabo—our honeymoon destination—and then booked the same suite we’d stayed in for our first night of marriage.
“You always had me figured out.”
He looks solemnly at me and takes my hand in his. “Until I lost sight of things.”
“We’re both guilty of that. We’ve both done things to hurt each other, intentional or not. I just… I just don’t know—”
“Blythe, you only did what you did because I pushed you there. I don’t hold you accountable for anything, not even with Kane.”
“But you should.”
“But I don’t. That man had you as his target the whole time. And when I pushed you away, I practically shoved you into his arms. So, no, I don’t blame you and I never will. The question is, can you ever forgive me?”
“Of course. I just needed time to digest, you know? That’s why I left town.”
There’s a moment of silence where we hold each other’s gaze, wondering if we can, somehow, salvage what’s been lost and start again.
“I want us to start over,” Shawn says, a gleam in his beautiful blue eyes. “You’re my world, Blythe, and I’ll do anything to be able to prove that.”
“I just want you to be the Shawn I used to know.”
“I can do that. So, what do you think? Can I take you out on a date tonight? I hear there’s salsa dancing over at the next resort.”
I snort a laugh at his eavesdropping. “I would love to go on a date with you.”
He smiles and it warms my heart. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it. “Great. I’m going to my room to freshen up after my trip, but I’ll pick you up at eight?”
I smile like a giddy teenager. “Eight is great.”
Shawn leans in and kisses my cheek, lingering a few moments while we drink each other in. It feels so good to have him close again. So normal now all the pretense has gone.
“I’ve missed you, wife,” he says, lips grazing my ear.
“And I you, husband.”
The knock sounds at 7:59 p.m. and I reach for my clutch and make my way to open the door.
Shawn’s eyes widen in appreciation when he sees me. “Fuck, Blythe. You’re more beautiful every time I see you.” I knew he’d appreciate this dress. It’s my Dirty Dancing dress, the one Baby wears in the closing scene when she and Johnny reunite. It shows a lot of bust, and a loose skirt—which has always been Shawn’s thing. He loves to bury himself under there while pleasuring me.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” And goddammit, the man is fine! His shirt is rolled to his elbows, displaying his sexy, corded arms, and it’s unbuttoned enough to tease me with his muscled, tanned chest.
He holds out his arm which I accept, closing the door behind me before we make steps toward our future. If someone told me a few months ago we’d be doing this, I’d have laughed at them. But now it feels real and so right.
Shawn takes me to a candlelit dinner by the beach. And while some things are still raw, we talk and laugh like two people in love, swapping stories about how we spent our honeymoon and what we should recreate. I’d left New York thinking our relationship, or what’s left of it, would be a work in progress, but as I sit across from him tonight, I realize I ran because I feared what I hoped for—to have my husband back.
The salsa band takes the stage, couples immediately forming on the floor.
Shawn holds out his hand and I accept with a smile. We walk out to join the others and he swings me into his embrace. I shiver feeling his hard chest pressed against mine, our bodies the closest they’ve been for a very long time. His cologne feels like home, and as he moves me around the floor, I feel my body heat with anticipation.
Is it too early to go there with him?
Shawn presses his cheek to mine and we form our own rhythm, one that has our hearts beating at the same pace.
“I love you more than life itself, Blythe. And, if I died tomorrow, this is the day I want to take to my grave with me.”
“Why this one?”
“Because there was a time, not too long ago, where I thought I would never win you back. Where I feared I couldn’t undo the damage I’d done to your heart. And now, having you back in my arms, as my wife, I could die a happy man.”
I bite my lip, and his eyes hood with lust. “Get me out of here,” I say, watching his reaction.
“Anything you say, little lady.” Shawn swoops me into his arms and I squeal in shock, giggling at his readiness. Draping my arms around his neck, I let Shawn carry me back to his room and all without breaking a sweat. We kiss and giggle along the way, uncaring of who sees us acting like two kids freshly in love.
He singlehandedly opens the door and throws me onto the bed before crawling his way on top. My husband hovers above, propped up on his elbows, his lips grazing mine, gradually becoming more demanding. He takes charge and I let him, and only a few moments pass before we’re caught in a frenzy. We kiss deeply and passionately, groaning and seeking more. I feel his rock hard cock press between my thighs, and I open my legs farther to indicate I want this as much as he does.
Nibbling my neck on his way down, Shawn pulls my breasts free and sucks my nipple into his mouth. It feels like heaven, the sensations coursing th
rough me. He continues the journey until he’s buried under my skirt and pulling my panties to the side. I’ve been wet for him the whole night and when he dives right in, it’s a pleasurable attack on the senses. I moan, begging his tongue to continue working my clit. When two fingers slide in my pussy at the same time as he increases the pressure, I’m unable to hold it in any longer and I cry out my release, legs shaking, my hips rising to meet his demanding mouth.
When I finally come down, Shawn unzips his pants and hovers at my entry.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I’m beyond ready,” I whisper hoarsely.
Distracting me with a fervent kiss, Shawn thrusts his ready cock inside. I claw at his back, my pleas muffled by his lips. He slides out slowly, waiting for me to adjust, before gently re-entering. We fall into a rhythm, his hips grinding against mine ensuring his cock is deep within at all times.
Where I wanted it hard and brutal from Kane, I crave it slow and intimate from Shawn. I’m no longer trying to forget my heartache. I’m no longer willing to run from things I’m scared of. I’ve got everything I ever wanted, on top and inside me right now.
This isn’t fucking.
This is a man making love to his wife because all is forgiven.
With heels in hand, I close Shawn’s door as quietly as possible before heading to my own room. I woke wrapped in his protective arms, his heavy breathing telling me he’s fast asleep. Needing to shower and change out of my dress, I decide to do all that from my own room and then sneak back into bed with Shawn before he wakes.
The sun’s beginning to rise over the horizon, the crashing waves the only soundtrack for the otherwise peaceful resort.
I smile, recalling how attentive Shawn had been during our lovemaking. How he remembered all the things I love and all the things which turn me on. After all these years of marriage, that was the best sex we’ve ever had.
Scanning the key card, my door unlocks and the smile drops from my face.
I freeze, unable to cross the threshold, my heart now joining the ocean in creating a beat.
What the fuck…
I look behind me then scan the room, repeating the process until I feel safe enough to close the door behind me, locking me away from the safety of the outside world. I push open the bathroom slider to find the room empty. I do the same with the robe door. Nothing.
Then I turn to the exquisite bouquet of flowers identical to the first bouquet Kane Alexander sent me not so long ago. They lay angled on my pillow, their beauty lost to the threats they hold.
How did he find me, and how long has he been watching and waiting?
Swallowing hard, I pull the card free and open it, quickly realizing that I’d been feeding the monster. With every smile, every touch, every word we spoke, I allowed his obsession to manifest and now he’s never going to let me go. Because what is a king without his queen.
There’s one line written in perfect handwriting.
One line long enough to brim my eyes with tears.
One riddled line that brings my newfound happiness crashing down around me.
The Bad Wolf will always hunt his Little Red.
THE END
Read on for a taste of ARROGANT FIANCE which is available now!
ARROGANT FIANCE
My ass was in the air, hands on the ground for balance.
I could feel the stares, eyes focused on me and the skirt that had inched up my thighs revealing my long legs—and let’s be honest—half my ass. The passers-by did nothing to help but seemed content to gawk.
Shit.
“Come on you piece of—”
“Well, well, well… if it isn’t a damsel in distress.”
I froze, heart pounding, my hands still holding tight to the heel stuck in the grate.
Fuck no.
It couldn’t be. Anxiously biting the inside of my cheek, I stared ahead as reality set in, determined to ignore the familiar voice from behind.
Life was being a right bitch if she thought it was fun having my heel wedged between unforgiving metal and having him arrive at that very moment.
Attempting to wriggle the shoe some more, I only met resistance. It was firmly stuck, and no amount of heaving was going to loosen the fucker, my trembling fingers failing to undo the clasp.
“I remember that ass very well indeed,” the voice continued, and my face flushed with a mix of emotions. Some part love, but mostly humiliation with a healthy dose of murderous intent.
If I could only get this damn heel free, I’d wedge it in his eye, and I most certainly don’t mean the eye on his face. The bastard deserved a little punishment, and I knew just how to do it.
A pair of polished black shoes came to a stop in front of me, and I clenched my teeth hard, so hard they felt like they’d snap. Just another thing I could blame on him. Relenting, my gaze traveled the length of his body.
Still tall.
Still handsome.
Still, with the same shit-eating grin he’d always had.
Roman.
“Relax, Britta,” he said, bending down so we were level. “Let me help.”
I hadn’t a chance to answer before his hands had already moved to my ankle, fingers gently brushing against my skin. I shivered, and I don’t think I hid it well. I loathed that he still had that effect on me. And worse still, he knew he had that effect on me.
Roman tightened his grip, turned my foot on a slight angle and with a sharp pull, my heel was set free from the evil clutches of the street. Instead of letting go, his hands affectionately slid up my calf, his thumbs gently caressing, reminding me once more of what we used to have.
“You’ve changed your hair,” he said, attempting to distract me. It worked. My hand went to touch my tresses. It was now a lot shorter than what Roman would remember. Even the color had changed, back to my natural brown shade. Boring, but me.
“Out with the old,” I said. Clearing my throat, I was determined to block the sappy emotions. I made to stand, pulling away from his touch.
“So…” he said, eyes alight. “How are you?” Roman slid his hands into his pockets and watched closely, observing any move I made.
“Good,” I stammered, although I didn’t know why. Roman made me nervous and I couldn’t control it. “You?”
His neck twitched. “Ah, really good, actually.” He swayed a little on his heel. “I’m engaged.”
“Oh?”
What. The—
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, breaking through my thoughts.
Perhaps he’d noticed my mouth agape. Maybe he’d seen my wide-eyed shock. Maybe… just maybe… he’d been able to read my mind.
“Britta? Are you seeing—”
“I’m engaged, too!” The lies slipped from my strawberry-coated lips so easily. And now it was his turn to be shocked.
“Oh?” he said, hoping I’d elaborate but not wanting to seem too eager to ask. “Maybe you can bring him to the wedding. I sent an invitation. Did you get it?”
My mind briefly wandered to the trash bag that would now be sitting in the landfill. Somewhere in that trash bag, among the food scraps, is the torn up, once beautiful card cordially inviting me to the wedding of Roman Hopheart and Rebekah Johnson.
He sent me an invitation!
To his wedding!
Is he mad?
Roman was my first love. I’d given the asshole everything. He was my first kiss. My first love. And then, one day after four years of what I thought was a stable relationship—solid enough to be talking white weddings and picket fences—I found him kissing my best friend in our newly renovated kitchen. That best friend just happened to be Rebekah no-moral-compass Johnson.
Tall.
Leggy.
Blonde.
Gigantic boobs.
Everything I wasn’t.
After many tears, fantasized bloodshed... and more tears, I had accepted that you can’t help who you fall in love with, and we had let bygones be bygones. And now t
he pair were getting hitched.
Fuckers.
Not that I cared… much. The sex was blah. Too self-absorbed in his own pleasure.
“Invitation?” I raised my brows in deliberate shock. “I’m sorry, I never received it. But that’s fine, I don’t need to co—”
“I’ll have Bek send you another.”
… Awesome.
“But you’ve gotta bring your new man,” he said with an almost disbelieving smile.
Why didn’t he believe my lie?
Did he think I’d pine for him forever?
Maybe it had been longer than was necessary. But just to wipe the smug look off his face, I agreed.
“He’d love to come,” I said, wearing my widest smile.
“Well, I guess that’s settled then. Are you still living with your parents?” Roman asked, determined to bring me down a peg or two.
Asshole.
“No… I moved out. Recently.”
As if on cue, my handbag began to noisily vibrate. His annoyed gaze dropped to the interference.
“Sorry,” I said, feigning an apology. “I have to get this. It’s probably my fiancé.”
Damn it! Stop digging your hole even deeper.
Fumbling around the debris in my bag, I retrieved my cell, locked eyes with the unwavering Roman and held the cell to my ear.
“Britta speaking…” I cleared my throat, but it only added to the awkwardness.
There was a pause. “I know it’s you and you know it’s me, so why are you introducing yourself?”
My face flushed and paled at the same time hearing the familiar husky voice that always had me both a little fearful and wet between the legs.
My boss.
I know, cliché.
But there was more to it. Way, way more.
“So… Sorry,” I stumbled, flustered. “I was caught off guard.”
“The delivery wasn’t complete. I’ll need you to contact the supplier before five and confirm the rest is coming.”
Roman raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
“Close of business, Brit,” he enforced.
Roman was now tilting his head to the side, curious over the stiffness of the conversation.