Torn (Torn Series, Book 1)

by Melody Anne

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Now

  My phone is off while I stay with Audrey on Sunday. I’m leery of going to work on Monday, but I push that thought aside. I like my job and I don’t want to let my personal life ruin that.

  I borrow a suit from Audrey for work Monday morning, making me feel like a million bucks. There’s a reason people spend so much money on clothes. I’ve heard the saying that clothes make the person but never realized how true that is until slipping into a thousand-dollar suit. I’ll feel horrible if something happens to it, but Audrey waves her hand as if I’m foolish. She assures me they’re just clothes and clothes are replaceable.

  My morning flies by without a problem, without a sign of Kaden. But as lunchtime nears he approaches me. I see an unreadable expression on his face.

  “Come eat with me,” he says. Two women I work next to gather their belongings and head downstairs to the deli. I’m supposed to go with them, but they smile and say goodbye without looking back. If the boss wants to change your lunch plans, there’s no arguing.

  I’m not thrilled, but I obediently stand and follow him to his office. If he wants lunch, I’d much rather it happen in public. But there are too many people in the offices, and I don’t want to have a tantrum and make a scene. If I want employees talking about us, making a scene is a good way to accomplish it.

  We arrive in his office without speaking a word. He closes the door and I see that food was already delivered. He was sure I’d come back with him. Of course he was. People don’t deny him what he wants.

  “Look, Kaden . . .” The silence feels like a weight dragging me beneath icy water. “We made a mistake, thinking we could jump into an affair. It’s not who I am. I don’t think it’s who you are either. You’re a respected businessman in this community, and you need to be more discreet in your personal affairs. I think we should admit this isn’t working. Yes, there’s sexual tension, and yes, it’s obvious I want you, but we can both agree to get over it and have nothing more than a working relationship from here on out.”

  I’m proud how calm I sound as I give my pre-rehearsed speech. It’s clear and precise and there’s no wavering in my tone. He listens as if he hears me. There’s a flare in his eyes, but other than that he doesn’t give a reaction.

  “I’m sorry about Saturday night. I . . . I was caught unaware in the car. I don’t do relationships. I don’t develop feelings. But you are sliding past my defenses and I . . . I don’t know how to handle it so I shut down. I know I hurt you.”

  An apology seems foreign from his lips. I know it isn’t something he normally does. My defenses are instantly shattered at the vulnerability in his voice. I want to protect him, want to help him.

  “You’re a man who knows what he wants. You like sex without commitment. There’s nothing wrong with that if your partner feels the same. I thought I could be that way, thought I could do that since my husband doesn’t want me. But I can’t have sex with someone and have them treat me like a whore. Even if that’s what I’m being.” The last words are spoken barely above a whisper.

  He moves quickly, approaching me and tugging me against him. There’s fire in his eyes.

  “Don’t!” His voice is a low growl. “We have something together, something that doesn’t happen every day. I’ll admit it scares the shit out of me. I’ll even admit I saw you and branded you, instantly wanted you. But that has changed. You are not a whore. Don’t ever say that again!”

  “What do you want from me?” I ask. I know he wants sex, but it seems he wants more. I’m confused and vulnerable.

  “I don’t know what I want,” he says, his voice rising. He’s angry, but it isn’t me he’s upset with; the situation is throwing him off balance, something he isn’t used to. He isn’t sure what to think about it, what to do about it. I completely understand how he is feeling.

  His heart thuds against mine, and he leans forward, placing his forehead to mine. It’s such a gesture of submission, of vulnerability; my heart melts. He’s as scared of these feelings as I am.

  I’m terrified, because I’ve developed real feelings for him. I never expected that to happen. I should feel more guilt, but I don’t. I feel too good with him. It seems right. Can I be in love with two people at once? What kind of a person does that make me?

  I wrap my arms around him, and we stay like that for several moments. Neither of us thinks about the food waiting for us. Neither of us is thinking about anything outside of this embrace.

  “Kiss me,” I say. I’ve made up my mind.

  He pulls back and looks in my eyes. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve made my decision. Maybe I’ll regret it, but I can’t walk away from him.

  Fire is always brewing beneath the surface with him, lighting his eyes. He wraps his hands beneath my butt and pulls me up as he moves toward the couch. His lips settle on mine. It’s a gentle kiss — a relieved kiss.

  But as soon as he lays me down and covers my body with his, all gentleness evaporates. It has been too long in coming. We need each other too badly. Our clothes are shed in a rush as we fight with buttons and zippers.

  His mouth trails across my neck, down my chest, and over my trembling stomach. I turn him as he sheds the last of his clothes, needing to taste him as he has tasted me. His body is utter perfection, not a single pinch of extra flesh on him. He’s solid and smooth, tanned and beautiful.

  My mouth trails across his chest, my tongue circling his nipples. He moans as I suck one. My core tightens and tingles. I’m on fire. He tastes as good as he smells.

  I pull his pants off, gasping as he springs free, his thickness greater than I imagined. He’s smooth and hard, thick and long. I wrap my fingers around him and slide them up and down. A shiny gleam is on him, giving me lubrication to pleasure him.

  I have to taste him. My mouth circles his thick crown and I groan around him as my fingers squeeze him. He’s delicious. His fingers clench in my hair, tugging hard as I move my mouth up and down his length. His body is tense, his legs tremble.

  “Enough,” he groans, pulling on me. I want more. I want his hardness buried deep inside me.

  He flips me over to my back, no clothes between us. I’m mesmerized by the passion in his eyes as he lies over me. He kisses me and I hold on tight, our mouths colliding.

  His hands are on my hips. He moves his head as if he’s going to explore my body more, but I cling to him. I don’t want that. I want him buried within me.

  “Condom,” I pant. “I want you now.”

  “Yes.” He reaches for the table next to the couch, pulls open the drawer, and the beautiful sound of a condom packet ripping open is a symphony to my ears. He quickly sheaths himself then positions his body over mine.

  “Look at me,” he demands.

  I open my eyes and gaze into his. He clutches my hips and I can’t turn away. Our bodies are damp with arousal. We’re both ready. He kisses me one more time before leaning back. Then he begins pressing into me.

  He is so thick, so hard. I stare at him, completely lost in his gaze as he buries himself deeper. He rests for a moment as my body adjusts to him. We fit beautifully.

  Then we move together, both of us frantic to know each other, to complete this journey in an explosion of pleasure. Our moans ring through the room as he thrusts in and out of me. Pressure builds. He kisses me, hard and rough, as he pushes harder and harder, faster and faster.

  I can’t do much more than hold on tight and pray I’m not lost forever. The orgasm takes me by surprise, ripping through me, leaving me bare and vulnerable without any defenses. He follows quickly behind me, crying out my name as he finds his release.

  It takes a long time for us to come down from the high we found together. He doesn’t let me go, doesn’t disconnect from me. I cling tightly, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to return to the real world.

  But reality
settles in. There’s no other choice. We disconnect, finally get dressed. I’m unable to talk, not sure how I feel. Can we walk from his office without either of us saying a word to the other?

  “This is right, Miranda. Don’t think it isn’t,” Kaden says.

  I turn and look at him. Do I have regrets? I don’t.

  “Thank you.” He gave me a gift I didn’t realize I needed.

  “This has just begun,” he promises.

  “I know.” I smile at him.

  Whether it’s right or wrong, we’re in this together. I’m not sure what will happen next. I don’t think either of us have any idea. I just know we finally jumped off the cliff together.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Now

  I feel guilty when I go home and find Mason in his art studio. I look at his naked back as he paints. He isn’t aware I’m here. Tears fall down my cheeks. I ended our marriage today. I slept with another man. I’m falling in love with another man.

  I’m grateful Mason isn’t aware of my presence. I lean against the doorjamb and watch him. His muscles flex as he moves his arm in sweeping arches, paint transforming the plain canvas into something unique and beautiful.

  I do love him. But how? How do I love him? I have no problem thinking of him as my husband. But what does that mean? Is it now just a word? I remember how we felt ten years earlier when we said our vows. The nervousness. The excitement. The disbelief.

  How has all of that faded? How have we become strangers? I know I’m going to lose him, and there’s a part of me that is so broken by that thought I have to grip the doorjamb to hold myself up.

  I’ve spoken to Mason almost daily for thirteen years. Sure, we spent time apart, and sure we live separate lives. But besides Audrey he’s my oldest friend. What have we done to each other?

  More tears fall as I stand in the doorway for minutes upon minutes. I can’t go to him, not after what I’ve done. I can’t look him in the eyes. He continues painting in silence. I watch as a Phoenix takes shape on his canvas. Flames are spread out behind it, ashes lie scattered on the ground. His bold strokes make the bird come to life. I look at the eyes and they seem to be looking back at me. There is no judgment. There seems to be a freedom in the expression.

  Does he know? Is this painting a new beginning for him? Is it a new beginning for me? His work has changed so much over the years, from sweet and almost silly to darker with more meaning. Has it been a slow progression? What does it mean?

  He won’t share with me. He’s pulled within himself, and he hasn’t taken me with him. Does that excuse how I reacted? Does it excuse the way I let things happen? I honestly don’t know. I believe no one can judge another until they’ve walked in their shoes.

  I finally move away from the doorway. I’m sadder now than I’ve ever been. He hasn’t sensed me standing there, isn’t even aware when I’m around. It’s different with Kaden. If I’m anywhere near him, he looks up, seeks me out. It has been that way since we first met. The feelings have only grown stronger as we spend time together.

  Have I ever felt that way with Mason? I think real hard. Sadly, I realize I haven’t. We were so young when we met — young, naïve, and innocent. I haven’t ever felt a strong pull toward him, I have always just felt safe and taken care of.

  I thought that would be enough. It obviously isn’t — for either of us.

  And now our lives are changing. We might go our separate ways and never see each other again, an almost unbearable reality I don’t want to face.

  I’m awake for hours, taking a long, hot shower and changing into my most comfortable flannel pajamas. I try to read, but can’t concentrate on the words. I can’t watch television. I can’t seem to do much of anything. Finally, I climb into the bed I’ve shared with Mason for ten years.

  I lie down, snuggle deeply under the blankets, and tremble. I don’t know how much time passes before Mason slides into bed behind me. He moves across the bed and places his arm around my middle pulling me against him.

  More tears fall as his breathing deepens, as his body relaxes. I still find comfort in his arms, as if we belong together. But not as man and wife. I hate myself for being so weak, hate that I have this dark secret between us. I hate that I’m too selfish to let him go.

  Because I’m not letting go of Kaden either. I’m a fool, and I have no doubt I’ll lose them both. I have no doubt I’ll lose myself, too.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Now

  It’s amazing how much easier it becomes to justify your own actions. Guilt can only last for so long and then it gets pushed down, and down, and down. Pretty soon you live your life as normal.

  You may have stress. You may even have twinges of conscious. But it’s easy to justify things in your own mind. You make up excuses. You tell yourself everything is going to be okay, that it’s better for you to not always tell the truth, because sometimes the truth is too hurtful. Sometimes the truth shatters you instead of setting you free.

  And that’s how I stay with my husband while I have an affair with Kaden. I can’t even call it an affair. It’s a second relationship. But the longer it goes on, the more demanding he becomes.

  When we first met, he was happy I was married. He didn’t want commitment. But there’s something between us that, as much as we both want to, we can’t deny.

  We connect. We feel each other. It was supposed to be about sex, nothing more. Emotions weren’t going to get involved. Jealousy wasn’t a factor. It was two people filling a need for one another. Nothing less and nothing more.

  Nothing that involved lies and sex ever goes smoothly. Emotions were involved — for both of us.

  We’ve been having sex for three months. That’s three full months of deceit to my husband, my family, my friends. Well, everyone except Audrey. She knows everything. If she wasn’t around, I don’t know if I could have survived any of this. But I don’t say a word to anyone at work, and Kaden and I no longer do anything at the office. I want zero chance of being found out.

  So far rumors haven’t started. I don’t want to go to his house, and I certainly won’t bring him to mine. Mason travels more for work now. I hardly see him. Maybe that helps me justify what I’m doing.

  But to make me happy, Kaden rented an apartment in Vancouver. It isn’t a long drive from work, and it’s tucked away where people don’t know us. We never go there during the day. We never stay the night. That’s too intimate. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll never go back home. It might be time to admit that’s what needs to happen.

  But I can’t leave. Mason and I never make love anymore. It dwindled long ago, and I haven’t made love to him since Kaden and I began our affair. He hasn’t seemed to notice, hasn’t come to me and tried.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. I can’t be that woman who makes love to two different men. It scared me in the beginning. And then slowly the fear died just as the guilt did.

  Kaden and I have our first big fight and I leave our apartment while he’s in the shower. He wants me to get a divorce. I tell him he can’t change the rules now, if he’s unhappy he should leave me. The look he gives me is full of fury and frustration as he coldly tells me he can’t.

  It’s late and I’m walking the Vancouver city streets alone. I promised my father I wouldn’t do that, but I’ve broken a lot of promises to a lot of people I love — especially in the last six months.

  I wrap my arms tightly around myself as I walk in the cold. Just as Kaden can’t leave me, I’m very aware I can’t leave him. No matter how much we hurt each other that dark pull between us doesn’t loosen its grip.

  As late as it is, people still mill about the city, vendors line up on the corners, businesses begin to close. I’m angry, but that’s more to cover up the hurt I feel.

  I don’t want Kaden to make me choose. I want to keep both of my worlds intact. I don’t care if it isn’t
right. He knew who I was when he pursued me. I can’t help that he now wants me to change.

  I can’t stand the cold any longer, and I find a corner deli that doesn’t have a lot of customers. I go inside, grateful I threw my jeans on because there are a couple of twenties in the pocket. I left my purse, my phone, and everything else behind.

  Kaden is probably going a little insane with me gone. But I don’t want to worry about anything. I need a few minutes to gather my emotions, to figure out what comes next between us.

  I try to eat something but that’s a failure so I drink a glass of wine and know it’s time to go back. If I want to quit feeling like a terrible person, I need to stop running.

  It takes a while to get back to our apartment. I didn’t realized how far I had wandered. When I walk in the front door, Kaden is standing there, a furious look on his face, his body tense. I close the door and wait. Is our fight going to continue?

  “Where have you been?” he spits out. He’s barely containing himself. I’ve seen him in many different moods, but never this upset.

  “I went for a walk. I don’t like fighting with you.” My voice is calm. I’ve had time to smooth out my emotions, tell myself it isn’t as bad as I’m making it.

  “Do you know how dangerous it is for you to walk alone in the city? You didn’t have your purse or your phone. I went looking for you and couldn’t find you. I was about to call the cops.”

  His tone quiets but he’s still upset. He stands back from me, clenching his hands together. I take a tentative step in his direction.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I don’t want to fight,” I tell him. He doesn’t retreat from me as I move closer. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t know what I want,” I admit.

  “I want you,” he says, his tone raw. I know how hard it is for him to make himself vulnerable like this. I know it’s costing him a lot.