Wrapped in Hope: A Forbidden Romance (The Hope Series Book 1)

by K. B. Andrews

  Because I’m the sick man I am, I allow my eyes to fall down to her chest to watch as her tits bounce with her movements. I picture her moving on top of me with the same parted lips. I allow myself to imagine what it must feel like to sink deep inside her. My body comes to life with the mental images.

  Completely fucking annoyed with myself, I release the weights and take a seat on a machine so my erection won’t be seen. I adjust the weights and start working my legs. I use the workout to release all thoughts. I shouldn’t be thinking the things I am, and I have no fucking clue as to why I can’t stop the thoughts. It’s like my brain has been taken over by her.

  Before I ran into her at that meeting, I often thought of her, but it was the eighteen-year-old girl I knew, the one that was hot as hell but with my son. Not this twenty-three-year-old woman who has perky tits, a round ass, and thick, plump lips that would look fucking amazing around my dick. She’s grown into a woman that any man would lose his mind over, not that she sees it.

  I chance one more look at her. She’s still running. She has to be close to her third mile by now. I don’t know how she does it. I’m sure she’s using this as a punishment for herself. She’s going to run herself into the ground.

  With the problem in my shorts now gone, I stand and walk over to her. I look at the numbers on the treadmill and see she’s nearing her fifth mile. “Alright, that’s enough.”

  She shakes her head, completely breathless. “I can go longer.”

  “I said, that’s enough.” I pull the cord that shuts down the machine and she slows her pace.

  “I said I could go longer.” Her brows are pulled together and anger covers her face.

  “This isn’t a punishment. You won’t use it at such.” Fuck, why is she so stubborn?

  Her eyes fall to my feet. She didn’t realize I knew what she was doing. “You want to take out some aggression?”

  She bites her lower lip and nods with her eyes downcast like she’s afraid of looking at me.

  “Follow me.” I turn and walk through the heavy metal doors, leading her to the boxing ring.

  I stop and motion toward the punching bag. “There it is.”

  Her lips turn up. “You want to fight me?” she asks, looking at the ring.

  I shake my head and laugh. “No, you don’t stand a chance against me.” I can’t help but lick my lips as I look her up and down. I shake the dirty thoughts from my head. “You’re going to take a few swings at the bag.”

  Her eyebrow lifts out of surprise. “Do you box?”

  I nod before grabbing a pair of gloves and tossing them to her. “For about three years now. It’s just for fun, nothing serious. Put those on.”

  I take her over to the punching bag that hangs in the back corner. I stand behind the bag, holding it in place. “Let’s see what you got.”

  She steps up to the bag and throws a punch.

  “That’s the worst form I’ve ever seen.” I step around and stand behind her. I take her wrists in my hands and put them where they should be. When I grab her wrist and place it beside her chin, she sways on her feet, her back brushing against my chest. It makes my body damn near hum. “This hand here to protect your chin. This hand here.” I walk back behind the bag. “When you throw a punch, keep your wrist straight or you could break it. Put all your power and anger into that punch. Understand?”

  She nods before throwing another punch that causes the sound of the hit to echo off the bare walls.

  “That’s better. Again!”

  She hits the bag again and again. I don’t stop her or correct her anymore. I’m more worried about getting some of the rage out of her rather than correcting her form. With each hit, I see a little more anger fall away.

  She throws at least fifty punches before she falls to her knees, breathless.

  “Feel better?” I ask as I step from behind the bag.

  Her shoulders are rising and falling, the room is so quiet I can hear her labored breathing. It causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. God how I’d love to hear that sound coming from underneath me.

  “A little,” she replies.

  “Come on. I think that’s enough for today.” I hold out my hand to help her to her feet. When she’s standing, I pull the velcro holding her glove closed and remove it for her. I repeat the process with the other.

  When I have taken off both her gloves, our gaze locks on one another. Her dark eyes are full of unanswered questions that I wish I could answer for her. But unfortunately, I don’t have the answers she’s seeking. Nobody does. They are questions that can’t be answered, only accepted.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask as we’re leaving the gym.

  “Starving. I haven’t worked that hard in a long time.”

  “Let’s grab some dinner before I take you home. I’d hate for you to pass out. Are you feeling okay?”

  We take our seat in my Jeep before she looks at me and shrugs. “I’m tired, and hungry, and sore. I feel like my head is swimming.”

  “Sounds like your blood sugar is a little low. Have you eaten today?” I start the Jeep and head in the direction of food.

  “No,” she answers.

  I shake my head, annoyance and anger escaping me. “You have to take care of yourself, Hope. If we’re going to do this, you will eat at least three meals a day. A workout that hard isn’t good if you haven’t put anything in your body. If you want to be healthy and strong, you’re going to have to make some life changes.”

  “Like what?” Her voice is loud and shrill.

  “Eating complete meals, drinking plenty of water, laying off the booze, and getting plenty of rest for one.”

  “All of those things are one?” I can hear the alarm in her voice and it makes me want to laugh, but I don’t.

  I nod. “Going to regular meetings where you actually talk for two.”

  I see her roll her eyes and it’s like a slap in the face. “Respect what I tell you without an eye roll for three.” My voice has become hard and I know she notices.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. This is something I want to do. I think it could be good for me. It’s something that I wouldn’t ever do on my own, but if I have you to guide me, I know I can do it.”

  Her open submission makes my dick twitch, but I don’t let it go any further than that. I don’t respond because if I did, I’m sure it would be with something completely inappropriate.

  Neither of us talk while we drive across town to the restaurant. When we’re seated at the table, I order a beer and order her a water.

  “Hey, why do you get a drink if I don’t?”

  “I’m not the one making changes here. You are. You’ve taken a lot out of your body today, you need to put it back in and alcohol won’t help with that,” I tell her.

  She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

  My eyes begin to wander her body on their own and I know I have to do something to stop it. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  She shrugs. “Not really. Is there anything you want to talk about?” It sounds like a challenge.

  I lean back, thinking it over. “There is, actually. I want to know more about that weekend.” I don’t know if there is more to tell, but she needs to open up about it, about Dean.

  She quickly looks up at me. “I’ve already told you everything.”

  “Okay, just talk about him then.” It’s not that I really want to hear her talk about my dead son, but she needs to. She’s avoided even saying his name all these years.

  “What do you want me to say?” Her eyes fall down to the table between us as she worries her bottom lip nervously.

  I shrug. “Anything. Describe him to me.”

  She lets out a puff of air as she shakes her head. “Dean was… tall, and thin. He had these blue-green eyes that could cut right through me. His touch, it was like an electric current. It could calm me, it could get me going; it could do everything. He always tasted of mint and this deep, woodsy flavor. And he alway
s knew exactly what to say. He was sweet and kind. I loved him.” Her eyes start to tear.

  “And do you think Dean would approve of the way you’ve been living your life these last five years?” My beer is placed in front of me. I pick it up and take a sip, hoping it distracts me from my earlier thoughts.

  She shakes her head without saying a word, eyes still not meeting mine. She knows I can read her with one look. If she doesn’t look at me, I can’t read her, or so she thinks.

  “What do you think he would want for you?”

  With a shrug of her shoulders, she says, “he would want me to be happy. He would want me to move on with my life, go to college, fall in love with someone who will treat me as well as he did.”

  “So why haven’t you been living like that?”

  “I just can’t. I miss him. I can’t see past him.” She takes a deep breath and releases it as she sits forward, resting her hands on the table.

  I place my hand over hers. Automatically, I wish I hadn’t. Her touch nearly burns me. I want to pull away as soon as we make contact, but I don’t want to do that and have her think something is wrong. I just want to comfort her, but even a simple touch like this has me thinking things I shouldn’t. Every little look and touch from her only pulls me in more.

  When my thumb grazes against her hand, her eyes pop up to mine. They are wide and filled with a wanting I can’t place. Does she want me, or does she just long for friendly support?

  We’re both frozen in place, neither of us knowing exactly what this is or what we should do. When the waiter brings our food, I remove my hand from hers and everything goes back to normal.

  We sit and quietly eat. We watch the world move on around us. I can feel her eyes on me every time I take mine off her. It’s like a game a couple of kids would fucking play when they are both too afraid to admit they like one another.

  Fuck. I’m not imagining things. She feels the current every time we touch too. How is that possible? How could she be attracted to me? I’m twenty years her senior. I’m her dead boyfriend’s father. She’s just confused, is all. I’m the only fucked up one who could misconstrue a situation like this.

  I pay the bill and we load back up in my Jeep so I can drop her off. I’m in a hurry. I need her away from me so I can think clearly. Just being around her confuses me. As much as I love being with her, I can’t. I need space to sort some things out.

  I stop in front of her building and she looks at me with wide eyes, like she’s expecting something.

  “Will I see you again?” Her voice is dripping with nerves. But is it because she’s afraid she won’t ever see me again, or is it because she will miss having company?

  “Do you want to see me again?”

  Her eyes land on my lips before popping back up to my eyes, but she nods.

  I want to move in and kiss her so goddamn bad, but I can’t betray her trust. She needs me, and I can’t use that as a way to get into her pants.

  “Then you will,” I promise her.

  The corners of her mouth turn up just a bit before she nods and climbs out of the passenger side.

  Once she’s inside the building and the door closes behind her, I pull out into traffic and drive away from her as quickly as I can before I can talk myself into going after her and taking what I want.

  Chapter 11

  I must have imagined something that wasn’t there. When I was sitting in his Jeep, I could have sworn he wanted to kiss me. I waited, but nothing happened. I feel angry with myself for even thinking that way. What’s wrong with me?

  I go directly inside and slide into the bath. I lean back and let the hot water soothe my tired muscles. For the first time in a long time, I feel content. I’m tired, my body is spent, and I realize I’ve gone several hours without even thinking about Dean. While I was at the gym, he didn’t even cross my mind. I was too distracted with working myself to death, or with watching Holden’s muscles as they flexed.

  Holden.

  There it is. Maybe I should talk to someone about these feelings I’m having about him. I’m so confused between my body and my brain. It’s like my head is programmed to think about Dean, but something happens to my body near Holden. I feel like I’m betraying myself, like I’m betraying Dean. The self-loathing I’ve felt since Dean was taken away now doubles.

  Nevertheless, just thinking about Holden makes my muscles tighten with anticipation. How can such an innocent touch set my body ablaze?

  My eyes flutter closed as I allow my hands to glide down under the water. My fingertips brush my nipples that harden from the soft touch. They glide over my flat stomach and down to the junction between my legs. I widen my thighs as my fingers slide between my folds. When they brush against my hard nub, a fire is ignited low in my belly.

  I allow myself to imagine that it’s Holden’s hand instead of mine. This only makes my fingers work quicker. I picture his flexing muscles at the gym today, the way his strong chest felt against my back at the punching bag, and the look in his eyes when they locked on mine during stretches. I think back on that kiss we shared, and before I know it, I’m spiraling. My breathing picks up as soft moans of pleasure leave my lips. I work myself over until my body has nothing left to give. I finish with his name leaving my lips in a whisper.

  The second my body has regained composure, my face flushes with embarrassment. I’ve only ever done that while thinking about that weekend. But being with Holden, feeling his innocent touches, it’s the first thing my body has responded to in a long time. I know it’s wrong, and despite the confusion I’m feeling, I want to be with him, even if it’s casually, like today. He makes me feel alive, and although I know I can never touch him or make him feel what I feel, I want to keep this feeling going.

  The butterflies that fill my stomach, the goosebumps that prickle my skin, the tingles that erupt throughout my body when his hand brushes mine, is enough to keep me wanting more.

  A cheap thrill: nothing more, nothing less. But a thrill I want nonetheless.

  I wake with a pounding sound echoing through my apartment. What the fuck? It’s Sunday morning! Who in the hell could be pounding on my door at six A.M?

  I pull myself from bed and trudge to the door. Normally I’d look out the peephole, but I’m still dead to the world and it doesn’t even register. I swing the door open wide, ready to yell at whoever is on the other side when I’m stopped dead in my tracks with intense blue-green eyes and a chiseled jaw.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I ask Holden while rubbing my eyes.

  He hands over a cup of coffee as he steps past me. “We’re getting you into shape, remember?” He turns to face me as I close the door behind him.

  “It’s six A.M. on a Sunday. I don’t want to go to the gym right now.” I walk across the room, place my coffee on the table, and fling myself back onto the couch.

  “We’re not going to the gym. Getting into shape and being healthy takes more than working out. You have to have fun and be happy too.”

  I crack one eye open to see him looking at me over the back of the couch. “What’s that mean?”

  “We’re going hiking. Get some fresh air, exercise, and enjoy the scenery.”

  That actually doesn’t sound half bad. I’d love to get out of the noisy city for a day. Plus, the nearest hiking trail is miles away. That means I’d get to spend the whole day with him. Maybe figure out what it is that draws me to him and put it behind me. Or at least get my cheap thrill when his arm brushes against mine.

  “Okay. That doesn’t sound half bad. I’ve been needing a day out of the rush of the city life anyway.”

  He nods with a smile. “Go get ready. We can stop for breakfast on the way.”

  I jump up, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly happy. My heart nearly flutters in my chest, creating this high to pump through me. I don’t even feel guilty for it. I’m just excited. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt these good emotions. Normally, all I feel is sadness, loss, guilt. But Holden, h
e brings out something good inside of me. I don’t give myself time to think. I know if I do, the negative feelings will start to tear through the wall of light he’s building inside of me.

  I pull on a pair of work out shorts, and a sports bra. My head is still a little sore from the high ponytail I wore yesterday, so today, I go with a braid. I grab a light jacket on my way out of my room.

  “Ready?” I ask, walking into the living room and pulling on my jacket.

  His head pops up, eyes landing on my feet, but I watch as they slowly travel up my legs, over my stomach, and linger on my breasts before they find my eyes. His jaw is cocked and his muscles are tense. “Yeah,” he answers as he turns away from me to walk toward the door.

  The way he was looking at me has my body buzzing. This high, right here, is what I want. It’s addicting and feels magical as it surges through me.

  On the way out the door, I grab my bag that holds my camera so I can take a few pictures of the scenery while we’re out. I can’t wait to add them to my photography collection.

  “Tell me about the shop and how it’s going,” I ask over breakfast. I just want a normal conversation. I don’t want to talk about the depressing things today. I want to focus on the good and the friendship I’m growing way too attached to.

  He takes a sip of his coffee before leaning back in the booth. “It’s going great, better than ever. I’ve recently had to hire a couple of new employees because we’re staying so busy. I’m really needing to hire a manager though. Someone to handle the phone calls, the paperwork, keep the boys in line and on task.” He laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard his laugh in years. The deep, sexy sound cuts right through me. I find myself squeezing my thighs together.

  “That’s great. I’ve been thinking about getting a motorcycle,” I tease him. “You know, one of those racing bikes that you basically lay on.” I know his thoughts on these types of bikes, so I can’t help but to throw little jabs at him.