by Aly Martinez
I squinted, the gears in my head turning every which way as I tried to make sense of the timeline. “What do you mean he wasn’t your husband when you called the cops?”
She curled her lip. “I told you I left him.”
“And you also told me you went back.”
“Yeah, for, like, two years while I was building up the Sip and Sud and avoiding him at all costs. We were far from married during that time. The final straw came when I found out he was using steroids again. He was always so damn superficial. He said he couldn’t stand the way his body was changing as he got older. But let’s be real here. He didn’t like the way women didn’t fall at his feet anymore. We got into a huge fight about it. He lied. I left.”
No less confused than the first time, I said, “But you went back, right?”
“Hell no, I didn’t go back. I moved out the next day. I gave him chance after chance. I figured seventy-seven strikes were enough.”
I blinked, still lacking the ability to follow the bouncing ball. “But you were still married until he went to jail.”
“Only on paper,” she explained. “After I moved out, I filed for divorce. But, like the master manipulator he had always been, he pulled out his ace of spades. Turned out, he owned my bars. They were mine, but his name was on everything. And, Jeremy, I mean everything. The loans, the building, the licenses, everything. He threatened to take them from me in court, and despite the fact that he was a giant asshole, his parents had the money to back him if he tried. I didn’t know if they would or wouldn’t, but those were my bars. My sweat and tears. My dreams. I’d be damned if he was taking that away from me. So I caved. Our personal relationship ended, thankfully, but we were still partners. He helped me run things, we split the profits, he got to keep me under his thumb, and I got a new address way the hell away from him. It wasn’t exactly a win, but it was far from a loss.”
“Business,” I muttered, nodding. “Melissa and I do that with the kids. No fighting. No bickering. Just doing our jobs as parents. Or, in your case, owners.”
“Pretty much. And, really, I don’t know why I was surprised when he wouldn’t let me go. From day one, he’d done everything in his power to keep me dependent on him. It was like he knew that, if I ever got my feet under me, I’d hit the door running. He isolated me. My family was shit, but I wasn’t even allowed to go back to Alabama to visit. You know me and my mom didn’t get along well. But she was still my mom. And friends? Forget about it. He didn’t even like it when I hung out with Terry. I was his. No one else’s.”
Suddenly, a light bulb in my head illuminated the past. I’d always thought the reason Kurt had gone to such great lengths to get me kicked out of the Army was because he’d cottoned on to my feelings for Mira and he had been pissed that I would dare try to take something of his. But the truth was he had been livid that something of his had wanted me. He never had cared that she and I spent so much time together. It wasn’t like I’d ever been good at hiding my feelings for her. Hell, he’d probably adored the fact that I was in love with her. Knowing she was his and I couldn’t touch her.
But I could.
And I had.
And he’d spent the rest of his free life making sure she could never stray again.
Grinding my teeth, I swept my gaze off to the side. “You were always mine. And he knew it.”
Her breath hitched so violently that it made her body buck. I swung my head back to face her.
A plethora of emotions danced in her eyes, the worst of all being shock. “I was?” she asked.
I twisted my lips. “Of course you were.”
She pressed her lips together like she was fighting back tears, and it caused that stabbing pain to return to my chest.
After brushing her dark hair over her shoulder, I cupped the curve of her jaw and stared deep into her eyes. “Baby, I withered for you. I burned at the stake day after day, knowing he didn’t love you. Knowing you’d chosen him. Knowing there was not one goddamn thing I could do to make you change your mind. Hating you was the only way I survived.”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
Using my thumb, I caught it before it reached her chin. I allowed my gaze to roam her face, the truth blazing from within. It boggled my mind. I loved that woman down to my bones, maybe deeper. How the hell did she not know that she’d been mine? But there it was, shining in her eyes, dripping down her cheek, rising and falling with her heaving chest. She had no fucking clue what she’d meant to me.
And the first chance I’d gotten with her again, I’d taken her body, hard and punishing. Brutal for no other reason than I’d been scared.
Scared she was back.
Scared she was going to leave.
And, most frightening of all, scared she was going to stay, which would force me to deal with the knowledge that she had never chosen me but that I would always choose her.
My gaze fell to her mouth. Perfect. Pink. Unmarred. The complete opposite of the rest of her body.
It was a good thing I was already on my ass, because regret and remorse tore through me, leveling me in their wake.
This woman. The one who I claimed was mine. The one who was as much a part of me as gravity and air. The one I’d been starving for most of my life.
And her lips…were utterly untouched.
“Christ. I didn’t even kiss you,” I whispered before dipping low and pressing my lips to hers. It was chaste, packed with apology on both sides.
Her blanket fell away as she lifted her arms to circle my neck. Her mouth opened, and mine followed, slanting until her warm tongue brushed mine, the hum of desire engulfing us both.
It was new and different, yet the most familiar kiss of my life.
Our mouths moved with a practiced ease while every rolling wave of our tongues was in exploration. I folded my arms around her hips, guiding one hand into the back of her hair, holding her impossibly tight, as though I could anchor her to me for…well, forever.
I kissed her long and hard. Deep and wet. Hungry and carnal.
I kissed her freely, like we were kids again and the bruises didn’t exist inside either one of us.
And, when I finally tore my mouth away, my heart racing, my breathing ragged, my head spinning, my limbs boneless, I realized that every kiss I’d ever given or received after her had been a fraud.
“Please tell me you feel that between us?” she whispered almost painfully.
“I feel it,” I assured her.
Still holding her back, I pushed up to my knees and then to my feet. Her mouth came back to mine, peppering kisses over my lips as I lowered her to the couch.
“You going to let me back in you, baby?” I asked, following her down, supporting my weight on an elbow at either side of her head. “Easy this time. I won’t hurt you again.”
Her legs fell open, inviting me home. “You didn’t hurt me. It’s just…been a while since I’ve been with a man.”
My chest warmed. “How long?” I pushed before taking her mouth again.
Her hips circled off the cushion, searching for my length. “Don’t make me answer that.”
After skimming a hand down her side and then in over her hip, I found her heat.
Her head flew back against the couch, a breathy moan flowing from between her swollen lips. She’d told me how long it had been since she and Kurt had been anything but business partners and that was a long…fucking…time…ago. Mira was a beautiful woman, but I suspected that running three bars and living under her ex’s thumb hadn’t left her much time to sample the male population, an assumption I liked a fuck of a lot.
I amended my question. “Anyone since him?”
She met my gaze, her dark lashes blinking rapidly as she gave me the most arousing reply of my life. “No.”
“Oh, baby,” I rumbled with apology, nuzzling her cheek with mine.
Her breathing stuttered as I slid two fingers inside her, curling and coaxing, stoking her
fire.
And she lit for me, fast and hot.
She writhed beneath me, her breasts swaying with her every movement.
“Oh, God,” she cried, clinging to my shoulder while her other hand gripped my bicep, her face contorted in beautiful ecstasy.
And, as she came, her eyes closed, her body tense, jagged waves of her climax consuming her, it was my name that fell from her lips.
She was still soaring high when I withdrew my fingers and guided my length to her entrance.
“Mira, baby,” I breathed, and her eyes fluttered open, that stabbing in my chest so intense that there was no way to ignore it. So, I didn’t.
I finally let it shred me.
Hate melted.
Anger erased.
Self-preservation abandoned.
Sealing my mouth over hers, I slid into her tight heat with a devastating control.
I swallowed her cry, and she devoured my groan. Our tongues danced as I gave her time to stretch around me. And, when her body had relaxed, her legs drawing up to fold around my hips, I took that as my cue.
With long strokes followed by deep glides, I did anything but fuck Mira York.
In the end, we were both panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, her languid and sated body sagging beneath me, my release dripping from between her legs, and I felt my very first bruise fade in seventeen years.
I woke up smiling before I’d even opened my eyes. Stretching like a cat, I reached a hand out to the side and patted the cool, empty bed where Jeremy had spent the night with his hard front flush with my back, his arms wrapped around my chest, holding me safe and secure.
My body ached from head to toe in the most glorious way, and my heart skipped as I allowed the memories of the night before to flood my mind.
After he’d taken me on the couch with a breathtaking reverence, he’d cradled me and carried me upstairs, peppering kisses over my face with every step. We’d showered together, alternating between kissing and washing each other as the water had rained down over us. Jeremy was gorgeous. But fully naked Jeremy was a sight to behold. And I took my time getting reacquainted with every inch of him. Defined muscles showed beneath a thin smattering of reddish-brown hair on his chest. Six perfect ridges textured his stomach, and a moan-inducing V at his hips guided my hands down to his long, thick cock, which hung sated between his legs. With soapy hands, I catalogued the muscles on his powerful thighs before sliding them around to his firm ass, which was the cherry on top of the entire mouth-watering package.
He was eager to return the favor, and to say that it was intimidating was a massive understatement. I’d been young the last time he’d truly seen me naked, at least when a sexual fog hadn’t been clouding our vision. At thirty-six, everything that had once been sculpted and taut was now soft and curvy. The years had changed us both, but mine were far more noticeable. However, as his heated gaze followed his sensual hands while they roamed over me with a gentle dominance, I’d never felt more beautiful in my life.
He stared at me as we got out of his shower. Shame and apology were dense in his gaze as he silently inspected the numerous bites and bruises on my neck and breasts. Luckily for us both, I had a vast scarf collection in one of the boxes he’d picked up from my house. It was going to be at least a week before the dark purple faded and I was able to wear anything else.
Wrapping me in his arms from behind and resting his chin on the top of my head, he said, “I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t. Not at all. I’d bear his marks with pride for the rest of my life if it got me that moment with him. Yes, he’d been rough. But he hadn’t hurt me. Not in any way that I didn’t enjoy.
Kurt had never brought me to life like that. And, after we’d been separated, he’d taken it upon himself to make it known to every man I could possibly come into contact with that I was off-limits. I’d eventually given up on the idea of sex and love altogether. But, with one touch, Jeremy had ignited a blistering lust, years of dormant desire engulfing me in a sea of his flames. Pain and pleasure had mingled in the most intoxicating combination, leaving me drunk and at his tortured mercy.
After the shower, he guided me to bed, tucked me into his side, and, without a word spoken, fell asleep.
I woke him twice throughout the night. Once with my ass rocking against him until he slid inside me from behind with the same quiet gentleness as he’d shown me on the couch.
And then, some hours later, just as the sun had started to peek into the room, I’d climbed on top of him and taken him with fierce desperation that’d left a few bruises and bite marks on him.
So, as I rolled out of bed that morning, a satisfied smile curling my lips, my body screaming with sweet objections, my heart full, and my lips swollen, I did it without the weight of regret for the first time in seventeen years.
And I did it with a hope for a future swirling in my veins.
After nabbing Jeremy’s T-shirt off the floor, I dragged it on and then padded to the door.
I froze when the deep rumble of his laughter hit me.
“So, was it good?” he asked.
The angelic voice of a little girl replied, “Ew, no. Lobster is bisgusting.”
He laughed again, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was talking to his babies. Jealousy reared its ugly head inside me, but I’d become all too skilled at keeping it hidden over the years. That wasn’t my life. It had been a sacrifice I’d inadvertently made the day I’d married Kurt Benton. I’d accepted it over the years, but that didn’t mean the ugly green monster didn’t sneak up on me every now and again.
Rather than chancing being caught eavesdropping again, I went back into the bedroom and quietly closed the door. I went straight to my phone on the nightstand, the picture of Whitney and me holding Bitsy on my home screen slaying me like the sharpest knife. My stomach twisted as I sank down on the bed. It had been taken Christmas morning after Whitney had given me a teeny tiny doggy raincoat and booties she’d scored at Goodwill for a dollar. We’d laughed for hours as poor Bitsy had trotted around the house like she were walking on hot coals. It was crazy to think how happy we’d been that day. We’d been too broke to buy a tree, and Christmas dinner had consisted of baked chicken and sweet potatoes we’d pooled our money to afford. Yet, I couldn’t remember being happier.
And, now, they were both gone.
As I dropped my chin to my chest, guilt seeped from my eyes.
“Mir?” he called, cracking the door open.
I kept my head low and hurried to wipe away the dampness on my cheeks. “Hey,” I croaked.
“What’s going on?” he asked cautiously.
I did another sweep under my eyes. “Nothing. I just woke up and heard you talking to your girls. So I decided to wait up here.” Without giving him my eyes, I lifted my phone in the air. “Play some Candy Crush or something.”
His bare feet appeared in my line of sight, his hands landed on my knees, easing them apart, and then his whole handsome face appeared as he dropped into a squat in front of me. His palms curved around my neck and tilted my head so he could see me.
My heart swelled when he offered me a warm smile.
“You losing that bad?”
I laughed, but it only made a fresh tear spill out.
His grip on the back of my neck tensed as he ordered, “Talk to me. Whatever it is. I’ll fix it.”
And then I really lost it.
God, it had been so fucking long since I’d had anyone to lean on. I’d been on my own for so damn long. I’d had Kurt, but asking for help had come with a price tag. He didn’t do anything for me out of the kindness of his heart. I had no fucking idea what was going to happen with me and Jeremy after the night before.
I knew what I wanted.
I knew what I hoped.
I knew what I read in the depths of his kisses.
I knew that he’d said that I’d always been his.
But the past was the past, and losing yourself in a person physically did not equal start
ing a relationship.
Regardless, Jeremy Lark had just given me another gift. For however long it lasted, I wasn’t alone.
“I woke up smiling,” I confessed.
His lips tipped up. “Good.”
Shaking my head, I rested my hand on his forearms and inched closer to the edge of the bed. “No. It’s not good. Whitney’s still missing and I woke up smiling.”
Understanding hit his face. “You think she’d rather you wake up crying?”
“Well, no, but—”
“She your best friend?”
I nodded matter-of-factly. “Like a sister.”
He skimmed a hand up the outside of my thigh up to my stomach where he gave me a gentle shove. As I fell back on the bed, he followed me forward. Horizontal across the bed, he settled on his hip and propped his head in his hand. His front was plastered to my side, his palm resting on my stomach, and his warm eyes were aimed down at me. My belly did a little flip. There was nothing sexual about that position. It was pure casual comfort, something Jeremy and I had always had together. Something I’d missed to the point of distraction.
“She feel the same?” he asked.
Whitney did. Despite our age gap, we were inseparable in that way that we both knew, no matter what life threw at us, our friendship would weather any storm.
“Yeah,” I replied.
He dipped and pressed an all-too-brief kiss to my lips. “Then I’m guessing that, wherever she is right now, if she saw that smile on your face this morning, she’d be smiling too.”
She totally would. She was amazing like that.
A God’s-honest giggle sprang from my throat. “She’d probably be happier to know I finally got laid.”
He winked. “Couple times.”
With a single finger, I traced the outline of his pecs through his white T-shirt. “She’s been hounding me for years to start dating. She went so far as to set me up with one of her college professors. It didn’t go so well. We had a lovely dinner. Went back to his place for drinks, where he proceeded to tell me he peed sitting down, and then, when I rejected his advances, he asked if it would be okay if he masturbated in front of me.”