Chapter 8
When she kisses me, a bolt of lightning shoots through my body, electrifying every nerve ending. Her lips are plump and soft, yet strong as they move against mine. When her hot tongue slides into my mouth, that lightning bolt shoots straight to my groin, an area that hasn’t been dealt with in a very long time.
Her hot breath blows across my cheek and a soft whimper escapes her. Then I’m reminded of who she is. I have to stop this.
Making her stop is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I did it. As I’m walking away from her, I feel a little sick. Not because she kissed me. That was an honest mistake. But because of how much I liked it, how it made my body come to life after being dormant for so long.
My dick is hard as a rock as I walk away from her. It’s practically causing a tent to form in the crotch of my jeans. I hurry to my Jeep, needing to put some distance between us. That kiss shouldn’t have felt that way. I mean, I knew her as a child. I wasn’t around her much because I was always working, but there were a few summer days where both of our families would have cook outs and pool parties. She was my dead son’s girlfriend for God’s sake!
I tell myself that it was nothing more than a cheap thrill for a man who hasn’t been laid in five long fucking years.
As I start on my journey home, I’m eaten up with guilt. I know her kissing me wasn’t my fault, but I’m still married, even though my wife has told me time and time again to go get what I need elsewhere because she doesn’t care enough to be there for me.
I’ve had this pass for two years now, but I’ve yet to act upon it. A part of me keeps holding on to the idea that I will have my wife back one day. But watching her day in and day out as she lies lifeless in bed, makes me realize that she is only getting further and further away from me.
I’ve thought of leaving her for years now, but I feel like a piece of shit for even considering it. She’s my wife. We’ve been married for twenty-one years, and dated for years before that. I should be willing to stay with her through everything: sickness, health, the loss of a child, depression.
But I can’t. I’ve done it for five years, and all it’s doing is killing me. The first year, I held in there. I told myself that she just needed time to heal and adjust. I did the same with years two and three. I thought it had been long enough and that she should be moving on any day, but she didn’t. Year four, I spent all of my spare time trying to talk to her about it. I tried getting her into therapy, groups, meetings with other parents who have had the same loss, but nothing worked. Year five, this year, I finally accepted that this is my wife now, that she will never come back to me. As much as I love her and what we had, I have to let her go. She’s only hurting me by not wanting to help herself. It’s like watching someone commit suicide, knowing damn well there is nothing you can do that will stop it.
I feel like I’m standing on the side of a pool, unable to swim, and my wife is drowning. I keep reaching for her, but she won’t even try to grab my hand. I just have to watch her die or jump in and let her take me down with her. I can’t take it anymore.
The only thing she’s done since our son passed away is go to the doctor to get more pills. She sits back, popping her medication, and letting the world pass her by. I think back on the night I asked for a divorce for the first time.
I walk into her bedroom and find her sitting on the lounge chair, looking out the window in a dazed state. She doesn’t look up when I walk in.
I take a seat across from her. “Jane,” I say, hoping to get her attention, but she doesn’t even blink when she hears my words.
“Jane, we need to talk,” I say a little more forcefully.
Finally, she turns her head to look at me. She has no emotion on her face what so ever. She looks like she’s sleeping with her eyes open.
I take a deep breath. “It’s been four years now, and you’re not getting any better. I can’t sit here and watch you do this to yourself. I think it’s time we talk about divorce.”
Her eyes pop up to mine. They are full of tears. “What? Why?”
I rub my forehead, trying to ease away the stress of this conversation. “What do you mean, why? We’re not even a married couple anymore. We’re like roommates. We don’t eat dinner together, we don’t talk, we don’t even make love for God’s sake. How long did you think I could live like this, being completely ignored and left alone for years, longing for the comfort of someone who loves me?”
“Sex? That’s what you need?” Her tone has taken on a sharp edge now. I’m not surprised that’s the only part she heard.
“No! I need more than sex. I need a partner. I need comfort. I lost my son too damnit.”
She nods, seeming to understand. “I can’t lose you too. Dean is gone. You’re all I have left.”
I’m completely flabbergasted. I’m all she has left? She refuses to even talk to me most days!
She must see my confused expression. “Look, I know you need more than I can give you. So go get whatever you need. You need a companion, sex, whatever… Go and get it. Just please, don’t leave me alone. I know I don’t talk or get out of bed most days, but just knowing you’re here helps me. You are free to go and get whatever you need, I won’t be mad or upset. Just please, don’t leave. I can’t lose you too.”
I let out a long breath while rubbing my eyes. “Are you telling me that I can sleep with other women as long as I don’t leave you?” I ask, shock evident on my face and in my words.
She nods once with her eyes downcast.
This only fuels my anger. “I can’t fucking do that, Jane. What the fuck? You’re my wife and I love you. But I need you to get better. I can’t spend any more time alone. I need my wife, my partner. Someone who understands me. How could you even suggest such a thing?”
She looks up at me. Anger and sadness is showing in her eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you, Holden. I’m not signing divorce papers. I won’t. I won’t let you leave me.”
I’ve never even thought of using the pass she’s given me. At the time, I saw what I wanted to see. I heard her say she can’t lose me, and I took that to mean that I actually meant something to her, that maybe one day I’d have her back. That was enough to keep me hanging on these past two years.
But that forbidden kiss did more to me than awaken a part of me that has been forgotten about for far too long, it made me realize how much I miss being that person. The person who can have a conversation with a woman. I miss the soft touches and kisses, feeling like a normal person.
I pull into my driveway and shut off the Jeep. I step out and look across the street. The house is dark — they are still a normal married couple. I’m sure they are using their Friday night to have date night.
I take a deep breath and let myself into the dark house. I walk through the living room, flipping on lights. I move down the hall to Jane’s room. The door is cracked but the room is dark. I push the door open and stick my head inside.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she replies in a hushed whisper.
I run my hand through my hair. “Do you want to have dinner? I can make us something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Anger washes over me. “Have you eaten anything today other than prescription medications?”
I hear the rustle of the blankets. “I had a grapefruit for breakfast, a turkey sandwich for lunch, and tomato soup for dinner. Is that okay with you?” Her voice is snarky. She’s mad that I’m angry with her for not trying again, but fuck, can’t she see that I’m trying to survive on nothing?
“I thought we talked about this? I thought you were going to try. You call this trying?”
I hear the bed squeak like she’s sitting up. “I call this doing what I need to do to survive until I can die and be with my son that you forgot about a long time ago!”
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. “Dean died five years ago! I didn’t forget. I’m in just as much pain as you are, but you don’t see me ready to
roll over and die! If you want me to stay here, you’re going to have to try. Go to therapy or something, damnit!”
I slam her door closed and walk away. I don’t see her the rest of the night.
When I wake in the morning, I feel bad for yelling at her. I didn’t mean to, but she makes me so damn mad. All I want is for her to try! Am I not worth trying for? Is she really happier lying alone in bed all day than to come out and be with me, talk to me? I can’t do this much longer. It’s time to move on. I need something to live for and she’s not it.
I head to the shower and step beneath the hot flow of water. My anger starts to subside as my muscles begin to relax. I hang my head, allowing the water to rush over my black hair, letting it hang down around my face.
For some reason, my mind goes back to that kiss, that utterly perfect, forbidden kiss. My breathing picks up as I take myself in my hand and begin pumping. I think of how soft her lips are, how sweet she tastes, how tight she would be if I slid into her, and I’m tearing at the seams already, spilling every last drop into the shower drain.
The moment my heart and breathing return to normal, I’m fucking sick with myself. How could I even think of her while touching myself? For the past five years I’ve only fantasized about my wife. If I was feeling frisky, maybe a sexy model I had seen in a magazine. But Hope?
My stomach flops and I gag. I quickly cover my mouth with the back of my forearm while I shake the visions from my memory. This cannot happen. I refuse to let myself see her as someone I can have. She’s forbidden in more ways than one. I have to stop this.
I quickly dry off and fall into bed, pulling the blankets and pillows around me. I drift into a deep sleep.
“Are you ready to go?” Jane asks me when I walk into the kitchen to grab a beer.
“Yeah, I guess. Where’s Dean?”
She rolls her eyes while handing me several bags of chips. “Where do you think? There’s a pool party going on across the street. In case you didn’t understand that, it means: Hope in a bathing suit.”
I nod, catching on. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her to the door.
We walk across the street and into the open gate that leads to the fenced in backyard. I quickly scan the place. Dean and Hope are on either side of a raft, floating around while quietly talking to one another.
“We’re so glad you two made it,” Lisa says, taking the bags from my hands. “We didn’t know if your work schedule would get in the way, Holden.”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t miss it. Our little annual cookout is something I look forward to every year.”
Gary walks out of the backdoor, holding a tray of food to throw on the grill. “Holden, come lend me a hand, would ya?”
I quickly kiss Jane on the head and rush over to the grill.
“How’s things going at the shop?” Gary asks.
“Great. I just sold my first custom bike.” I smile and nudge his arm. “When do I get to build one for you?”
He laughs. “I think you and I both know that my wife would have my balls if I brought home a motorcycle.”
Our conversation comes to a halt after our laughing dies down. I lift my beer and take a drink. When I pull the bottle away from my lips, my eyes land on Hope climbing out of the pool.
She’s wearing a red, two-piece, string bikini that clings to her hard body like a second skin. Her nipples poke against the thin material making my eyes grow in size. I can’t help but to look her up and down as she walks toward me: her tits that look round and perky as they bounce with her every step, her flat but toned stomach, and then to her hips where she adjusts the stings on her bottoms. She’s grown up since last summer. She had always been rail thin and flat as a board, now she has the perfect hourglass figure. She looks like a full grown woman, not the seventeen-year-old girl she is.
I feel myself harden just from looking at her. I take a long drink of my beer while thinking of baseball and motorcycles, but even that doesn’t work.
She walks past me, into the house, and I have to restrain myself from checking out her ass as she passes. God, what I wouldn’t give to dip inside that tight pu— No, I can’t let myself go there.
“Hey, Dad,” Dean says, following behind his girlfriend that looks far more adult than she should.
I nod at him as he passes, hoping and praying he didn’t notice me admiring his girlfriend. I’m angry with myself for even checking her out, but fuck. She doesn’t look like a girl her age should.
She sits as far away from me as she can, and I’m thankful. “About last night…” I start.
“What about it? I don’t even remember what happened. I must have drunk more than I thought.” Her eyes are wide like she’s trying hard to pull off the lie.
I don’t buy it for a second. “Look, I just wanted to say that there is no need to be freaked out by what happened. It was an honest mistake. No hard feelings.” I’m lying to myself more than her. She’s young and she was drunk. These things happen. It wasn’t anything but a mistake for her. She doesn’t know she’s planted a seed inside of me that’s growing at an alarming rate, begging me to take what I want from her.
She offers up an embarrassed smile. “Thanks.”
With that out of the way, I lean back in my seat, trying to make her understand that we can be friends, even with the confusion I’m feeling toward her. I can look at her and see how badly she needs a friend. “Are you going to tell people your story today?”
Her head pops back up to look at me. “No! I told you, I’m never talking about that in here.”
Fuck. She needs to let this go. I completely understand the hurt she’s going through, but it’s not healthy to hold onto something like this. “What if it’s just you and me? I already know the story, but maybe it will help just saying the words.”
“Just you and me?” she asks with a raise of her brow.
I nod.
“But not here. I don’t want anyone to overhear,” she says with her chocolate brown eyes as wide as they will stretch.
I shrug. “Wherever you’re comfortable.”
“My place?” her voice is soft now, almost a whisper like she’s afraid I will deny her.
I really don’t need to be with her alone in her apartment, but I know she’s not attracted to me. Last night was just a drunken mistake. But can I trust myself? If she doesn’t kiss me again or give me permission to touch her, I won’t. I can keep my hands to myself. My mind though, that’s a different story.
“If that’s what you want,” I reply.
“Okay.” She nods. “I’ll buy the vodka.”
I sit up quickly. “No! No vodka. We don’t need another repeat of last night. We need to stay sober, feel our emotions, understand them so we can begin to heal. Ignoring this, or numbing it with alcohol won’t heal anything. It’s just a bandaid.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes as a puff of air leaves her mouth. “See you at my place?” She stands, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I’ll be there as soon as this meeting is over,” I promise her.
Chapter 9
I’m rushing around my apartment throwing my roommate’s dirty laundry into her room. It’s Saturday and she usually spends the day at the library, so I know she won’t be home any time soon to catch the mental breakdown I’m about to have.
There is a knock on the door and I freeze out of fear. No, is it time already? I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to talk about that day. I don’t want to feel it.
The knocking sounds again and finally I snap out of my trance and move to answer the door.
Holden’s standing on the other side wearing a pair of black motorcycle boots, fitted jeans, and a black t-shirt that stretches over his broad chest and biceps. His five o’clock shadow has grown longer since last night, and his jet black hair is styled neatly. He looks sexy as hell with his blue-green eyes boring into mine with his jaw cocked. Did he look this good earlier? I think back, remembering n
ot looking directly at him.
After a long moment, he gives me a sexy grin. “Can I come in?”
I swallow down my fear as I shake my head clear of the thoughts I shouldn’t even be having. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous.” I open the door wider for him to walk through.
He steps into my tiny apartment, making it feel even smaller with his height, and he turns to look back at me. “Where would you like to sit?”
“Oh, the couch is fine.” I find myself knotting my fingers together. “Can I get you anything?”
He quickly shakes his head as he sits down on the end of the sofa. I follow behind him, sitting on the opposite end. My stomach is doing flips, my heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. I have no idea where to start.
“Why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been doing these last couple of years?”
I look up at him, thankful he’s trying to break the ice. “Um, just school really.”
“What are you studying?” He looks just as nervous as I am. He’s not looking directly at me, opting to study the room we’re in instead.
“Business management. I plan on going to work with my dad when I graduate. What about you? Are you still working at the shop?”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s what I love and it brings in the money,” he answers, referring to the motorcycle shop he owns.
“It must be doing well based on that brand new Jeep out there,” I joke.
He laughs. “Yeah, I figured I was getting a little too old to be riding the motorcycle year round.”
I smile, remembering sitting in my bedroom and hearing his loud Harley turning onto our street in the dead of winter.
I’m sitting on my bed, reading over my history book when I hear the loud rumble of Holden’s motorcycle.
I smile to myself while leaning up to look out the window. I can already imagine my mom bitching about having to hear his loud bike even in the winter.
Wrapped in Hope: A Forbidden Romance (The Hope Series Book 1) Page 6