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

by K. B. Andrews

  As I walk out of her room, anger and guilt eats at me. I’ve tried everything to get her back. I’ve been patient and waited. I’ve tried talking to her. I’ve tried leaving her alone. Nothing works. I can’t sit and watch her do this to herself, and that makes me feel even more guilty. I vowed to be with her through thick and thin, yet here it is, five years into the thick and I’m ready to give up. What kind of man does that?

  I need companionship. I need someone to love, someone who loves me back. I need laughter. I need a promise that someone will always be here for me. Is that too much to ask for?

  Annoyed with myself and Jane, I strip off my clothes and turn the shower on. As the water warms, I lean over the sink and study my face in the mirror. Earlier, when I was with her, I looked healthy and strong, but now, after that talk with Jane, I look like I’ve aged ten years. My eyes are bloodshot with anger and sadness. My forehead has stress lines that stretch across it, and my scowl doesn’t do anything to make me look younger. I look like a bitter old man. A desperate man who would do anything to change the past, who would do anything to finally be happy again.

  Looking at myself only fuels my anger. I push away from the sink and step into the hot flow of water. I hold my head under the stream and let it rain down on me. The hot water flows over my head and down into my face. I close my eyes, and the second I do, she flashes in my mind.

  I think over the past couple of days with her: watching her in the gym, lips parted, chest heaving, the flush of her face. I can practically hear her heavy breathing and soft gasps. I can smell her sweet scent of vanilla and lavender. I can feel her against my chest as I have her pressed against that tree, the way she fell apart in my hands, the erotic look on her face when she asked me for more. I can feel her lips on mine while she searches for someone that isn’t me.

  That thought only annoys me. I knew when she kissed me that first time that she woke up thinking I was him. That’s all I am for her: a fucking reminder of my dead son. I’m not stupid. I know how much alike we look: same black hair, same color eyes, same body structure, or we would have if he had lived long enough to become a man instead of an awkward teenager. I’m as close to him as she can get.

  Just thinking about why she wants me around kills the erection I was getting. But even that is better than thinking about her while pleasuring myself again.

  I wash quickly and step out of the shower before my body can come up with any more mental images to trick my fragile mind.

  I pull on a pair of boxers and sweatpants before raking my fingers through my hair. I don’t bother with shaving my dark five o’clock shadow. I’m exhausted from the mental and physical strain of the day.

  I step out of my room, heading for the kitchen. I want a quick and easy dinner so I can go to bed early. Tomorrow is Monday and it will be a busy week. I know we have at least four different bikes that need extreme work done to them. That’s on top of the daily tune ups.

  I round the corner to the kitchen and see Jane standing on the other side of the island with her back facing me. Just seeing her standing there scares me. She doesn’t ever come out of her room if I’m home.

  “Fuck, Jane! You scared the shit out of me.” My hand flies to my chest, covering my heart that is pounding like crazy out of fear.

  She doesn’t move or turn around.

  “Jane? What are you doing?” I begin walking closer. It only takes me a few steps until I can see over the island, see the crimson blood staining the white tile floor.

  “What the fuck did you do?” I rush over to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around.

  Her face is pale, and tears are leaking from her eyes as she holds a knife in her hand. Her left wrist has a big gash that is leaking blood at an alarming rate.

  Seeing the blood pouring out of the gash turns my stomach. It’s not the sight of blood that bothers me. It’s because my wife, that I’ve loved for over twenty years, has tried killing herself.

  I grab a towel off the counter and quickly wrap it around her wrist. Blood loss is finally taking over and she passes out, causing the knife to clang against the tile, but I catch her just in time. With her in my arms, I grab my phone off the counter as I rush into the living room. I lie her down on the ground and apply pressure to her wound while dialing 9-1-1.

  “Has your wife ever tried anything like this before?” the doctor asks me as I sit outside of Jane’s room.

  I’m holding my head in my hands as I shake it to answer his question. Finally, I look up at him. “She’s been sinking further and further into depression since our son passed away five years ago. She’s on all kinds of medication for it, but it doesn’t seem to help. I don’t think she wants to get better.”

  “We’re going to keep her here for observation tonight. But we need to discuss the possibility of getting her some help. I won’t release her just so she can go home and try again. She needs round the clock attention. She needs someone to monitor her medications. She needs to seek therapy.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly. I’ve been trying to talk her into seeing someone for years now. God knows she won’t talk to me.” Just talking about this pains my heart. My once beautiful, sweet, fun-loving wife has been lost in the dark so long now that she tried to take her own life.

  The doctor pats me on the back. “Go home and try to get some rest. There’s nothing you can do here tonight. But come back tomorrow so we can discuss a medical treatment for her.”

  I nod as he walks away. When I feel like I can stand without falling over from grief, I walk across the hallway and look into her window. She’s lying in bed, covered up in white blankets. Her hands are resting at her sides, one wrist wrapped tightly in white gauze. Her eyelids are closed, long lashes fanning out over her pale cheeks. If I didn’t know her, she would look like she’s resting. A stranger would never guess that she’s been lost in a deep sea of depression for the past five years, leading up to her suicide attempt.

  I turn my back to the window as I walk down the hallway. All I can feel is anger, regret, and sadness. Why wouldn’t she just let me help her? I can’t take her pain away, but I can at least help to ease the burden.

  I climb into my Jeep and look out into the black night. The last thing I want is to go home right now. I don’t want to have to go clean up her blood. I don’t even want to touch the knife she sliced through her vein. Just thinking about it fills me with rage and despair.

  I find myself at a local bar drinking more than I should. Drinking has never been my strong suit. I mean, yeah, I’ll have a few beers at a cookout or something, but drinking out of anger or sadness is always something I’ve avoided. I know it will be far too easy to drown myself in alcohol. But tonight, something is calling my name and I don’t know what.

  I sit in the bar until there is nobody left but me and the bartender. I’ve had several shots, and while I have a good buzz going, I’m far from drunk. I can still see clearly, think clearly. The only thing that has changed is the liquor has washed away some of the anger I was feeling. Knowing that I should get going before I end up passing out on the bar, I call it a night.

  I walk out into the cold night air. The warmth of the day has vanished, leaving nothing but blackness around me. There’s not a star in sight. The sky overhead is filled with looming clouds that block even the moon. It’s a dark, cold night, and it matches the way I’m feeling.

  I walk down the street to my Jeep and my breath leaves my mouth in tiny puffs. The bitter wind seems to cling to me, chilling me to the bone. I’ve never in my life felt so cold, so alone. My son is gone and my wife won’t stop until she’s killed herself. I’m all alone in this world.

  I feel a pull in my chest, but I try to ignore it as I climb behind the wheel. Whatever was calling me earlier hasn’t faded away in the slightest. And as it turns out, it wasn’t the alcohol I was seeking. I know this when I pull up in front of her building.

  I try not to think of anything as I make my way inside and up to her apartment. I kn
ock twice and wait.

  Just when I’ve finally made myself see what a mistake this is, she answers. Her dark hair is tied in a knot atop her head, and she’s wearing nothing but an oversized, ratty t-shirt. Her long legs are bare and my eyes take them in all the way from her pink painted toes up to her toned thighs.

  “Holden? What’s wrong?” She opens the door wider.

  “Jane tried killing herself tonight,” I breathe out.

  She takes a sudden breath before covering her parted lips with her hand. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.” She latches on to my arm and pulls me inside her dark apartment.

  I hear her lock the door behind me before she says, “let’s go talk in my room. My roommate is already asleep.”

  I can’t see anything in her pitch black apartment. But I feel her soft hand as it grazes my arm and slides down to my hand. Her fingers entwine with mine as she leads me through the darkness to her room.

  She opens the door for me and allows me to walk in before she closes it behind us.

  There is only a small, bedside lamp on, leaving the room dim. I start pacing, looking over everything. There isn’t much in here: a full size bed with its black blankets ruffled. A bedside table with a lamp, a desk, and a lounge chair by the window. I can picture her sitting there, reading a book, looking completely at ease.

  “So what happened?” she asks as she climbs back into her bed and pulls the blankets over her beautiful legs. I get a flash of red, lace panties and it makes my stomach tighten to hold off the tingles that erupt throughout my body when we’re this close.

  My pacing starts again. I need to distract myself. We’re in her room alone. Fuck! I shouldn’t have come here. But that yearning I was feeling earlier has finally subsided. It wasn’t alcohol. It was her.

  “I don’t know what happened. I got home and went to her room like I always do. She wasn’t in bed like usual. She was sitting in her chair by the window, just staring out into whatever it is she sees out there. I told her I had run into you and that I was trying to help you. She didn’t really respond to anything until I said your name. I guess maybe mentioning you made her think of Dean?” My pacing finally stops as I sit on the foot of her bed, holding my head in my hands.

  “I went for a shower and when I came out, I found her in the kitchen. I was alarmed automatically because if I’m home, she doesn’t leave her room. Then I saw the puddle of blood at her feet. She had slit her wrist.”

  “I’m so sorry, Holden. Is she going to be okay?” Concern is laced in her words. I can hear the worry in her voice.

  “Physically, she’s fine. The doctors managed to stop the bleeding and stitch her up. They want me to come back tomorrow to discuss her future medical treatment. There’s a good chance she won’t come home for a while.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that tonight. I wish there was something that I could do.”

  I look over at her, her sad eyes are downcast at her hands that are knotting together on her lap. I want to see her. See her face. See her beauty.

  “Hope?”

  Her head pops up and her dark eyes land on mine. They are shining brightly, warming me, thawing out my heart that’s been put on ice for years now. “You are doing something. You’re doing more than you know. You’re here and listening.”

  She offers up a small smile. “It’s the least I can do. I know I’m kind of hard to get to know because I keep myself locked away, but these last couple of days have helped me more than anything. Just having you to be with and talk to, someone who knows what happened and why I’m so damaged, it means everything that you’re still here for me.”

  “You’re not damaged, Hope. Damaged is when you refuse to even try. You’re fighting, and fighting hard. I can see that when I look at you.”

  Our eyes are locked on one another’s. There is thick tension growing between us, and that longing that’s been eating at me is suddenly back full force. It’s begging me to reach out and touch her, even something as simple as brushing that fallen hair away from her face.

  I reach over and allow my fingers to skim across her soft cheek as I push the hair behind her ear. Even the slightest touch causes her to inhale and her cheeks to flush. She’s so fucking beautiful. Her big, brown eyes are wide as they watch me. Her plump, pink lips are parted. She looks like she’s waiting for something, for me.

  But I can’t. I won’t. “I should probably go so you can get some rest.” I force myself to stand.

  My movement has brought her back from her thoughts. She pushes the blankets down her legs, accidentally giving me a straight shot at the junction between her legs as she stands. “Let me show you out.” She takes a couple of steps to the bedroom door. Her hand is on the knob, but she stops before turning to face me. “I know you think this relationship we’re building is probably weird and awkward, but it’s not. Not for me anyway. What happened between us today probably complicated things, but we’re both hurting, it’s only natural that we find comfort in one another.”

  When the last word leaves her mouth, something inside of me snaps. I can’t hold back any longer. I need her, more than she needs me. I want her.

  I reach out and pull her against me while my lips find hers. She doesn’t hold back. Her arms wrap around my neck as she pulls herself closer. Her soft lips move against mine and with every flick of her tongue, I come a little more unraveled.

  My hands find her round ass and I squeeze as I lift her up against me. Her legs wrap around my hips, leaving her hot core to press just where I need it. I step forward, pressing her back to the door to hold her in place while my hands roam her body. They slide up her smooth thighs, up under her shirt to her hip where I pull her toward me, making her press against my aching cock even harder.

  I know she can feel my dick throbbing against her when she lets out a soft moan that lights a fire inside of me.

  Her hands tangle into my hair as she pulls me closer, nearly devouring my mouth. She wiggles against me and I know what she needs. My fingers slide into her panties and between her folds to find her wet center. I let them slide deep inside while my thumb applies pressure to the sensitive spot that will have her panting and dripping with need for me.

  I break the kiss so I can watch her face as I wrack her body with waves of pleasure. Her lips part and her breathing picks up as soft whimpers leave her mouth. Just watching her fall apart in my hands is enough to make me come undone.

  Her hands fall to my biceps where she squeezes them, digging her nails into my skin. “I’m going to come,” she whispers.

  Her words only make me try harder. I want her quivering with need in my hands. I watch her to fall to pieces and it’s breathtaking. I want to completely fucking own every piece of her.

  “Holden, please. I need you inside me,” she cries out around her labored breaths. This is the second time she’s asked me for something she shouldn’t today. I’ve been drinking and I’ve had a shit-show of a night, the side of me that thinks clearly is gone. All that’s left is a man who desperately wants this woman who’s asking him to fuck her. I can’t deny her what she wants any longer. I can’t fight against myself. The sick bastard in me wins out.

  My mouth crashes with hers as I remove my hand from her and pull at her panties. I hear the fabric rip, and when I let go of them, there’s nothing stopping me.

  Chapter 14

  Being in his arms feels right. Even the slightest touch from him causes my body to break out in tingles that I can’t control. His breath blowing across my face, his scent engulfing me, his muscular chest pressing me against the hard wooden door, it’s all right. And I need it.

  I need him.

  When my panties are gone, his hands get to work on his belt. It clinks as he frees himself from his dark-wash jeans. I open my eyes to see him: tall, dark, and downright mouthwatering. I want to see more.

  My hands find the hem of his shirt and I pull it up, revealing nothing but tanned skin and rock-hard muscles. I drink him in: black hair, dark
blue-green eyes that are filled with lust, confusion, and pain, an angular jaw that’s covered in dark stubble and flexing with tension, muscular pecks and hard abs, all the way down to his large cock that he’s positioning at my entrance.

  “Hope, I don’t want to stop. Please tell me to keep going,” he whispers with his eyes full of fear and desire.

  “Please don’t stop.” My voice sounds off, like it’s not even me talking — it’s my desire for him.

  He pushes into me and fills me with a loud gasp. It’s been so long since someone has been there. I feel myself painfully stretching around him, but it’s tantalizing, causing the yearning to grow even stronger.

  “You’re so tight, Hope,” he whispers in my ear, teeth nipping my soft skin. “You’re so fucking perfect it kills me.” He pulls out and quickly shoves back in forcefully. My nails dig into the bare flesh of his back as I call out for him, overtaken with the feeling of him inside me.

  I can’t hold my eyes open any longer. They flutter closed as he moves in and out of me, owning me.

  I don’t allow myself to think about what we’re doing, or who it could potentially hurt. I can’t right now. All I can think about is him and the reactions he’s causing in my body.

  Suddenly, I’m no longer pressed against the door. I’m lying flat on my bed with him moving on top of me. His hands grab ahold of my shirt and he pulls it over my head. He pauses while his eyes take me in. I watch him as he studies my naked body. I see him swallow, causing his Adam’s apple to bob in his throat before he says, “you’re so fucking beautiful, Hope. Perfect.” His lips find my nipple just before he thrusts into me with a roll of his hips.

  With his lips teasing me, and the way he’s filling me to the point of stretching, I’m spiraling again. I can feel myself twitching around him, begging for my release. It’s building higher than it ever has before. When his hand comes between us and his thumb presses against my sensitive nub, I shatter. My nails dig into his back again as I call out his name. Every muscle in his body goes hard as he pumps into me so forcefully I can feel myself sliding up the bed.