by Melody Anne
“I want you too. I love you, Kaden.”
We both freeze as the words come out. I’ve never said them before. Love isn’t part of our agreement.
“I . . . I can’t . . .” He stops. His anger drains and he looks miserable.
“You can’t love me. I know that,” I tell him.
“Miranda . . .” He stops speaking as if he has no way of getting the words past his throat. I know it’s more of a matter of him being unable to get them out of his mind.
“Kaden, I know who you are. I’ve known from the moment I met you. It hasn’t seemed to matter. It’s as if we’re two separate storm fronts in the middle of the ocean, circling each other and then bam, all of the sudden we collide. We don’t need explanations, or ultimatums. We need to just be . . .” Now it’s my turn for the words to trail off. I take a deep breath. “I think that’s all, actually. I think we just need to be. There doesn’t need to be another word added.”
“But we aren’t just us. You aren’t free,” he says.
“Neither are you, Kaden. That’s not an accusation. It just is what it is. I have a husband I love . . . in an entirely different way than I love you. And you have a past you can’t seem to let go of. Maybe one day we’ll both be free. Maybe we won’t. But if we aren’t willing to let each other go, why keep fighting about it? Why do we need to make the pain worse?”
There is so much misery in his eyes.
“I want to tell you you’re wrong,” he says.
“I know. I want to be wrong,” I reply.
We stand close, not touching. I wait. This moment will tell me what comes next. This will either make us stronger or rip us apart. I’m not sure I’ll survive either option.
“This shouldn’t happen. I have feelings for you, and if I was a less selfish man I’d set you free,” he finally says.
He lifts his hand and gently brushes the hair away from my face, then runs his finger down my cheek before resting his palm against my rapidly beating heart.
“I guess I could say the same.” I take the final step to him and raise my arms. I need to touch him, to be with him. “Make love to me.”
He groans as he lifts me, carrying me to our room. There isn’t much in the apartment, but the bedroom is decked out luxuriously. It’s where we spend most of our time.
Tonight I don’t try to leave. Tonight I can’t leave.
Chapter Forty
Now
Time marches forward. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and then it’s going on a year since I met Kaden. I’m living a dual life. I go home every night, mostly to an empty house as Mason spends more time in New York and California.
My husband and I don’t talk, don’t confront the fact that we’re living separately, that we’re no longer a team. We haven’t been for a long time. I’m sure he has someone else just as I do.
What I’m unsure of is why we don’t divorce. Are we both too afraid to let the other go? We’ve already done that, just not legally. We both refuse to talk about it.
Kaden isn’t going to stay with me. He isn’t a man who wants to share. The only thing that keeps him sane is knowing he’s the only man I’m with. I don’t have sex with my husband anymore.
I know Mason is a virile man. There’s no way he’s gone a year without sex. So why aren’t we talking about it? Why don’t we divorce? I have no answer to that question.
I spend a rare night with Kaden and lie in the bed for a long watching him sleep. It becomes one of my favorite things to do. I love how all of his defenses are down when he’s fully relaxed.
We have sex all the time. A day doesn’t pass that we don’t speak. But our conversations don’t have real meaning. He knows a lot about me, has learned about my life, about why I’ve done things the way I have for many years. He knows what I like, what I don’t like. He needs to know this.
But it’s a one-way street. I know practically nothing about him. I don’t know his family, don’t know what he does when he isn’t with me. I don’t know about his past. I know there was something that traumatized him, but I don’t know more than that.
It’s coming to a point where I have to decide what to do next. I have to accept that Mason and I will divorce. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to stay with Kaden. He tells me he wants me to get a divorce, but maybe part of me fears what will happen when I do, when all of me is truly available to him. Will that be when he decides he doesn’t want me anymore?
Can I survive losing him? Is he too imbedded in my soul?
I rise and make my way to the bathroom. The apartment is luxurious with a large walk-in shower with two heads. Kaden loves the shower, and spends three times as long as the average person in it.
I know that’s one of his vices, it’s where he washes away the stress of his day, even the stress of his past. I truly want to know why he’s the man he is.
I’m in the shower less than a minute when he finds me. I lose my breath at the sight of him. I don’t think this will ever fade. He walks with confidence, his body hard, his sex ready. There’s such a genuine grace about him, it’s truly awing to be in his presence.
His legs are long and hard; his muscles flex as he steps beneath the shower spray, immediately pulling me to him. His glorious arousal pushes against me, and I’m instantly ready for him to take me.
The steam surrounds us and I respond to him as he presses against me, my nipples aching, my core swelling. It doesn’t take more than a look from him and I’m ready. I know the pleasure only he can give me, and I want to make him feel the same.
He grabs the soap bottle and suds drip from his fingers.
He turns me around, lifts my hands and places them on the wall. “Don’t move your hands,” he says before licking my ear as his hands smooth over my stomach.
I shake as he moves up and massages my breasts, kneading them into aching masses. He pours soap down my back and touches every inch of my skin. I can barely stand. I begin to twist and he stops, pressing against me.
“I told you to stay,” he growls. I groan.
When he’s sure I won’t move, he continues running his hands over my back, down the curve of my butt and between my spread legs. He pushes at my feet, spreading my thighs open.
He circles his fingers around my swollen core, massaging the throbbing area as he strokes his slick fingers over it again and again. I want to turn, want him to lift me, to stop the torture, to make me his.
But he takes his time, moving down each of my legs as he kneels behind me. Water rinses away the soap, and he replaces his hands with his mouth, his teeth scraping over my skin. He licks down the crack of my butt and then pushes on my back, bending me, bringing my sex closer to him. His mouth moves over my folds as he licks and sucks until I’m begging for release.
Finally he stands behind me, lifting one hand to trap both of mine against the wall. He grips my hip with his other, and I scream as he pushes inside me with one hard thrust.
He moves in and out of me in a slow rhythm that’s bound to drive me mad. But soon he loses control and he releases my hands so he can hold on to both hips as he begins thrusting harder and faster. He groans his pleasure and the sound reverberates straight through me.
I cry out as an orgasm overtakes me, making every inch of my body ache. He hollers my name as I feel him pumping within me. We connect for several satisfying moments before he pulls out and turns me around, immediately taking me in his arms.
I lean against him with water cascading over us. We remain that way a long time. Though I don’t want it to end, he finally has to let me go. We clean up, taking our time drying each other off.
That leads to one more round of sweet lovemaking. Our day doesn’t start until close to noon. I wish every day could be like this. I wish the real world didn’t have to intrude on this magic we share.
By the time we reach the kitchen, I’
m desperate for a cup of coffee. One need has been met in an utterly satisfying way. Now it’s time for fuel. I once heard making love burns more calories than running. I’m certainly hungrier than ever before, so that might be true.
We sit in the kitchen in comfortable silence as he reads the paper and sips on coffee. It’s peaceful and domestic and I don’t allow myself to think about it too much, or my perfectly filled balloon is bound to pop.
“I’m taking you out tonight.” He makes me look up.
“Taking me out? Where?” I ask. The balloon hasn’t exactly popped, but a little of the air has been let out.
“On a date,” he says. There’s a bit of defiance and a lot of confidence in his voice.
“Kaden, we don’t do that.” I try to choose my words carefully. “There will be consequences.” He’s a very well-known businessman and I’m . . . well, I’m technically still married. I don’t need Mason to find out about Kaden through a tabloid picture.
“I told you I want to change the rules,” he states. He looks back at his paper as if the conversation is over.
I get up and refill my coffee. This isn’t a discussion I can have with him without at least two cups of coffee. I take my time, then return to the table.
“Look, you’ve told me multiple times you don’t do relationships. I have no idea why you think it’s so important to change things now. I love how we are; let’s not risk it.”
He sets the paper down, not even trying to pretend he’s still reading it. His gaze bores into mine as he forms a response. I wait.
“I might have said that in the beginning, but I haven’t been with anyone but you since we began this, Miranda. More importantly I haven’t had any desire to be with anyone else. Doesn’t that tell you the rules have changed?”
I’m stunned by his words. I never ask him if he has other lovers. I haven’t wanted to know. I don’t feel I have the right to get jealous or to try to stop him.
But I want to. I want to be with him. I’m scared, though. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we leave a trail of pain in our wake as we fly off into the sunset together? Can we survive that? Can we live with ourselves?
“I’m scared,” I admit.
The fire immediately drains from his eyes. He moves over to me, kneeling in front of me. The gesture is not submissive. That isn’t who he is. But it’s a move to show me we’re on equal footing, that he’s willing to bend for me. He needs to know if I’m willing to do the same for him.
“I can’t tell you not to be afraid,” he begins. “I can’t tell you everything will work out in the end. I’ve never been in this place before. I’ve never tried a relationship. All I can tell you is I want to take a leap with you. Will you trust me enough to keep you from falling?”
My heart pounds as I gaze at him, as the answer forms in my mind. He’s being vulnerable, giving me more of himself than he’s given before. I can either give him the same . . . or I can walk away.
I can’t continue walking this tightrope. I can’t keep lying to Mason, to myself, to my friends. I have to stand up and do what’s right. I might lose everything I hold dear in my life, but if I don’t take a risk it’s already lost to me.
Kaden doesn’t rush me, doesn’t try to force me to bend to his will. He waits.
I realize I’m no longer torn. I know my decision . . .
“I want to be with you, Kaden,” I whisper. “I haven’t been fair through this. Both of us thought this was something different in the beginning. I thought I could hold on to both worlds. I haven’t been in love with my husband for a long time, but I do love him.” Kaden grimaces, but he keeps looking at me, waiting for me to go on.
“I love him in a different way. I think I always have. I think he feels the same for me. We were friends, then we were lovers. We did what we thought we were supposed to do. We didn’t want to let the other go, but it wasn’t because we were deeply in love. It was because we were best friends. And then we were in too deep. If either of us told the other it was over, we’d lose the friendship and we weren’t willing to do that.”
Kaden nods.
“But we’ve lost it anyway. By staying married, staying in a passionless relationship, we’ve both built resentment. And now I’ve committed the ultimate marital sin — I’ve cheated.”
I can’t stop the tears from falling.
“Do you regret it?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his tone.
“No, I can’t regret being with you,” I say. “I should regret how I’ve handled things, but I love you, and I can’t regret that. Thinking of losing you rips my soul apart. It hurts me to think of losing Mason, but in a different way,” I try to explain.
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“Yes, you can. I think maybe it’s time I share my past with you.” What he’s offering is a true gift. It’s precious and rare, and I don’t want to lose this opportunity to hear him.
“Mason has been in my life for thirteen years. He’s steady and reliable. He’s never treated me badly. When we were younger, the sex was wonderful.” Kaden winces as I say that, and a possessive light enters his eyes. To him I’m his alone, have never belonged to another. It isn’t easy for him to hear this, to hear it and not comment. But he simply clenches his fists where they rest on my thighs and waits for me to go on.
“But I think sex evolves. Young sex looks for nothing more than a quick orgasm. But as we get older, we learn what we like, what we need. If we’re with someone we truly love then sex becomes about so much more than just sex. It becomes otherworldly.”
I reach out and place my fingers against Kaden’s tense jaw. I rub my thumb over his bottom lip. He nips me and I smile. It stings a little, but I deserve that. I hurt him much more than he can hurt me with a little bite.
“I never felt that with Mason,” I assure him. “I’ve never felt a connection like I feel with you — not once in my life. I know this might not last. I know you have demons you might not be ready to face. I don’t care anymore. I’ll be here for you as long as you want me to be. That’s how much I love you.”
“I . . . I want to give you everything you need,” he says. I wonder if he wants to tell me he loves me, but isn’t able to. Maybe he never will.
Kaden and I are meant to be together. We tried to fight it and have likely broken many hearts in our selfish desire to have what we want, but in the end we are better off together than apart.
“I’ll tell him tonight,” I promise Kaden.
He nods as he stands, easily lifting me in his arms.
Our next chapter is about to begin. Now I need to know if I’m going to have an eternal fiery death or be that Phoenix rising from the ashes of the life I burned to the ground . . .
Note from the Author
This book was an emotional mess for me to write. So much has happened in this past year, but there were two events that utterly ripped my heart out.
My hero, my savior, my amazing father who is so much like Miranda’s father in this book, died on January 25, 2018, just six days after his 69th birthday. My world was shaken. I miss him EVERY SINGLE DAY. I talk to him often, and wish so much he’d talk back to me. But he lives on through my stories and that is an incredible blessing for me. I’m including a pic of my dad and me in the back of this book. I’m so proud of who he was and who he raised me to be. He truly was a humble, gentle, amazing giant who gave me incredible words of wisdom like Miranda’s father gives her. I could write a book on him alone. He was kind to others even when others weren’t kind to him. And he loved! I knew I was his heart and soul. And he loved his other family and friends. He loved his grandkids. He was one-of-a-kind and he was taken far too soon from me. I will be writing about him a lot in many, many books.
The other event rocking my world was the end of my 21-year marriage. A marriage that literally lasted half my life. I won’t
go into details as that’s personal between my ex-husband and myself. But I promise you, I didn’t cheat on my husband. This story was created because I have felt helpless so many times before, and this time I decided I was making a flawed heroine who would make mistakes and stumble in life, but who also deserved redemption. No matter what a person might do, they are still worth loving. And there have been many times, especially in the past year, where I have felt helpless, where I’ve felt betrayed. So I wanted to write a character who takes her power back. Who makes the decisions. I wanted to show that struggle. It’s easy to hate a monster. If her husband was abusive or horrible, we could all hate him. But I wanted reality, and the reality is that sometimes marriages just don’t work, not because one person is a monster and one isn’t, but for any number of reasons. And ultimately, maybe a marriage ends because two people have just grown apart.
The series is continuing with more of Miranda, Kaden, Mason, and Audrey. I hope you continue to take this journey with me. It’s far from over, as I have so much left to tell. I don’t write in a journal, I write a novel. I don’t write down what has happened to me. I write the story I want to tell; I give the ending I want to give.
There is always a piece of truth in every single book I write. I have at least one character who resembles real people in my life. In this book I can relate to Miranda in her struggles, but that’s not the real character, though there is some of me in her. The real character is her dad, who I didn’t name. That is my father, through and through. Not all the things that happened in her childhood are real, but the man I created is straight from my father. We will definitely see more of him in Book Two. THANK YOU!!! Thank you for letting me share my dad with you. Thank you for loving my books. And thank you for helping me heal when I didn’t think it was possible to do so. My job is a true blessing and it’s because of you I get to do it. I truly love you for giving me this beautiful gift.