Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  I try to swing my legs over the side of the couch but they feel like they aren't even connected to my own body. I slow down and give my body a few seconds to catch up with my brain.

  And that's when it hits me...I'm in my house. On my couch. Staring up at pictures of my family over the fireplace.

  I think back to last night. I had been pretty drunk when I showed up here. When I recall the dumb shit that I said to Grace, I just drop my head and chuckle. I'm an imbecile when I drink.

  Damn. I pray to god she sees the humor in it instead of considering my midnight visit as confirmation that she was right to kick me out of her life. That idea causes panic to shoot through my chest.

  I just remember how badly I’d missed her and how sharply I’d wanted her last night. Having Brittany Delaney breathing down my neck at the bar only intensified how much I wanted to be home with my wife. I couldn’t stand the idea of being with someone else. So then I came here. And I probably made things worse.

  Shit!

  I stand up from the couch and pad quietly down the hall into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water to relieve my parched throat. When I step through the doorway, Grace is at the stove, laying thick slices of bacon into a pan.

  "Hi..." I say shoving my fingers through my mussed up hair.

  A quick, tentative smile flashes across her face. "Hi..." She licks her lips apprehensively.

  She's wearing a pretty, little dress. It's pink with yellow flowers. It used to be one of my favorites but she hasn't worn it since she had Sebastian and I can't help but wonder if today she's wearing it just for me.

  Score one for the bumbling estranged husband?…Maybe?

  "I didn't wake you up, did I? I was trying to be quiet." She sucks in a breath and runs her hand over her belly. I know that tic. That’s what she does when she’s trying to fend off her nerves.

  She’s nervous…

  Definitely score two for the bumbling estranged husband!

  I shake my head, trying not to grin like an idiot. "No, you didn't wake me up. If anything, it was the coffee calling my name that pulled me out of dreamland."

  She smiles and her pretty eyes shine. She's still gorgeous but she's tired. And sad. This divorce is taking a toll on her. I want to take it away.

  She chuckles softly now. "Yeah, I found a package of that fancy Italian espresso stuff that you like. It's been sitting at the back of the pantry since..."

  ...Since I left. Since I walked out that door, leaving my family behind.

  Why the fuck did I do that?

  She doesn’t pick up where her words trailed off. Instead, she hands me my favorite mug filled with my favorite coffee and the nostalgia is almost too much. I bring the cup to my lips to keep from saying something that I shouldn't.

  I still want you...

  You're the only woman I've ever loved...

  I need you so bad it hurts...

  Because everything changed when she signed those goddamned papers. Smothering her with a barrage of thespian declarations isn’t the way to fix this.

  Wordlessly, I pull out a chair and sit at the kitchen table. And wordlessly, she sets a plate of bacon, toast and eggs in front of me. God, it smells good. And it tastes even better.

  She sits across from me with her coffee and a single slice of unbuttered brown toast. She’s always on some dumb diet. I wish she’d believe me when I tell her how wild I am for her curves. It’s crazy that she’d starve herself to try and change her figure while I’m starving for every luscious inch of her body just the way it is.

  But you can’t exactly say that to someone who served you with divorce papers. At least not when you’re sober.

  So, I veer the conversation to neutral territory. "Sebastian still sleeping?"

  She nods. "It's a damn miracle. He never sleeps this well."

  Is my son sleeping better because he telepathically knows that I spent the night here or am I just reading too much into this?

  My shriveled-up brain is going to explode from overthinking every little thing this morning. When I reach up and massage my throbbing temple, Grace gazes at me with worried eyes. "You feeling okay?"

  I nod. "Yeah. Had way too much to drink last night."

  She bites the corner of her lip before her eyes dart away. I can tell that she's holding back. There's something she isn't saying. I have a pretty good idea what it is.

  I push out a breath. "Just say it, Grace…"

  "You drove over here drunk..." Her voice cracks and her brown irises swim in tears despite her scolding stare. "Don't you ever do that again."

  My fingers rake through my roots. "I'm fucking stressed. With everything going on in my–"

  "Daniel." Her tone is hard and firm. "Don't do it again."

  I sigh heavily. She's right. That was irresponsible of me. I know better. I'm a lawyer, for god’s sake. "I'm sorry I showed up here...in that state...I shouldn't have done that."

  Words tumble quickly out of her mouth. "I'm just glad you came here instead of going home with someone else." As soon as she says that, she looks like she wishes she could take it back.

  She just showed her cards. I take a bite of my toast to hide my smile.

  Score three hundred and twenty-six for the bumbling estranged husband. But who’s counting?

  A heavy silence hangs over us as we eat. When I'm finished, I pick up my dishes and bring them to the sink. I push back the sleeves of my crumpled shirt to wash them, but Grace stops me. "Don't worry about it," she says softly. "I've got it."

  Our eyes hold for a moment. I feel fire in my belly, a scorching lust that sears my insides. Her eyes sparkle in a way that tells me that she still wants me. Despite everything, my wife still wants me. What would happen if I reached out and kissed her? Would she let me?

  Right now, I’m too chicken shit to find out…Also, I probably smell like sour milk and sewer gas after last night.

  "Mind if I take a quick shower?” I ask. “I've gotta go in to the office."

  The trance is broken at my mention of work. A cold veil pulls over her eyes, masking the desire and vulnerability she's been wearing this whole time.

  She shrugs. "Sure. You know where everything is. Clean towels. Soap bars. Spare toothbrushes."

  I nod and make my way up the stairs. The scent of that potpourri she uses greets me when I step through the door. None of my things are sitting on the bathroom counter. My razor. My toothbrush. My aftershave. I hits me like a sucker punch.

  I climb into the shower and try to wash away the idea that if I don’t get my shit together, one day some other man's grooming kit will be sitting on the counter. Some other man's shit will be sitting in my toilet. This is my house, dammit!

  Am I really going to stand by and let that happen? Am I going to let my pride get in the way? Or am I going to beg, plead, negotiate, cajole, coerce, seduce, do everything in my power to get this woman back?

  I push open the shower curtain, knowing that only I get to choose whether I fight for my marriage or let it fade to nothing.

  Stepping out of the bath wearing only a towel around my waist, I find Grace hanging a fresh shirt on the back of the door. Her eyes travel down my body, taking me in one inch at a time.

  Her stare is so intense, so wanting, I can almost feel it, like her little hands sweeping down my chest. And, fuck it – I stand taller because her lust makes me feel like a man. Her man. Her husband. My cock grows heavy and I remember why I showed up here last night in the first place.

  I want that pussy. I want it bad.

  She licks her lips. "I, uh. I figured you could use a clean shirt..."

  "Thanks."

  She nods. "If you need anything else, your clothes are in the suitcase in the guest bedroom." She turns and ambles down the stairs.

  Reality. Fucking. Check.

  Your clothes are in the suitcase in the guest bedroom. She's still divorcing your ass, motherfucker.

  Frustrated, I get myself together and get dressed. Then I go downstairs whe
re I find her sorting a pile of laundry on the kitchen floor.

  "Thanks for breakfast, Grace. And for everything."

  She nods.

  “And I'm really sorry about last night. I lost control. That isn't like me."

  Her shoulders heave and she nods again. "I know.”

  Her eyes stay on me as I take a few steps backward to the front door. Fuck, I don't want to leave. This is my house, my wife. My son is upstairs, sleeping in his crib. This is where I belong.

  I ignore the urgency in my veins, the little voice in my head screaming at me to take his woman and throw her on the bed and kiss her until she forgets why she’s so damn mad at me. Instead I reach for the door handle. "Will you lock up?" I ask as I head out.

  "Yeah. Sure." She follows after me, the disappointment clear as day on her face.

  She's leaning against the foyer wall with those glistening brown eyes and the full lips I love to suck. She watches me walk out the door.

  As I make my way down the front steps, every bone in my body is screaming at me. Kiss her, you fool! Go back and kiss her!

  But I just keep walking and I don’t look back.

  Chapter 17

  Grace

  This isn't healthy.

  I'm standing at the door peeking through the side-light window as Daniel walks down the driveway and climbs into his car. And I'm wearing this stupid dress he always liked. This isn't healthy.

  I should be trying to let him go.

  Instead, all I want to do is hit ‘refresh’ and give this marriage one more shot. What is wrong with me?

  Okay, we spent a few minutes together this morning without screaming at each other. So what? Nothing's changed.

  He's still a workaholic rushing out of here on a Saturday morning to go to the office. And I still have emotional voids inside of me that he’ll never be able to fill...But he makes my body scream, he makes my heart cry. Standing there all tall and broad-shouldered with his disheveled hair and stubbly chin and half-buttoned shirt. The sexiest version of himself. The all-grown-up edition of the cocky jerk I fell in love with in law school.

  I lean against the nook wall and squeeze my eyes shut. So much for getting closure from filing for divorce. My emotions are more all over the place than ever. Seems like that old saying is true – you don't know what you've got ‘til it's gone.

  The sound of a car door slamming shut causes my eyes to travel to the side-light window again and there he is, stomping across the lawn and up the stairs with so much determination in his eyes. The front door swings open and my breath hitches. Dear god, he looks like he's about to eat me alive.

  He grabs my face roughly, his hands cupping my cheeks as he rushes me back into the wall behind me. I gasp when my body makes contact with the concrete. His lips come down on mine and my whole body clenches with lust.

  Jesus.

  My mouth opens for him and his tongue storms inside, taking mine with vulgar thrusts. Realization slams into me. I finally grasp just how much I missed the taste of his tongue. The softness of it moving over my skin. It's been how many months since he last kissed me? Put his mouth on me?

  His hands are greedy. One giant palm grasps my left breast while the other kneads my right ass cheek. The rough movements have me wet, the slickness drenching my panties. I need him. I need this. So much that my body won't let me deny it. My nipples tingle and my stomach is curled tight. My hands find the back of his neck and I pull him even closer.

  His hand slides down the back of my thigh and he pulls my leg up high around his waist. I quickly hook my other leg around him. When his lips travel down the side of my face to my neck, I hear myself groaning. His short beard bruises me. I've always been a fan of stubble and the things it does during sex. The way it heightens every sensation.

  He presses his pelvis into the space between my legs and his rod is hard and hot, thick and long. "Baby..." I moan.

  "Damn, girl."

  His hand is under my dress, rolling over my ass and then his fingers slip beneath the edge of my panties. They dip into my slickness and my pussy is clenching around him immediately. He drags the wetness over my clit, stroking the little nub in a teasing back and forth motion. My head smacks into the wall behind me as I abandon myself to the sensation.

  He always did know just how to work my body. Even when he was getting on my nerves, even when he was being an absolute dick, Daniel Trotten could make me forget it with the stroke of his skilled fingers, the swipe of his tongue, the thrust of his cock into the deepest part of me.

  I miss the days when that was enough.

  Still, I work blindly, undoing his belt and shoving his pants down off his hips. He toes off his shoes and slides my panties to the side before he hoists me up against the wall and angles his cock at my entrance. He breaches me with one rough, urgent movement. My eyes roll into the back of my head as my pussy slides over his shaft, pulsing around him to welcome him home.

  And, Okay…Wow! Gimme a second to catch my breath!

  I’d forgotten how big his dick is. How thick it is. How it stretches me in the most delicious way.

  "So damn good," he grits out as his fingers curl around my hips. His grip is brutal and possessive. His fingers dig deep. They're going to leave marks.

  I gouge my nails into the back of his neck, bruising him, too. The ends of his wet hair tease my fingertips. And his cock tunnels through my opening, his body slapping wetly into mine as he fucks me against the wall.

  His hands slide under my ass and he lifts me higher, tilting my body at the perfect angle to receive his deep, hard thrusts. He curses into the curve of my neck when my pussy squeezes down on him.

  It stuns me that after all this time and space, after all the ways we’ve broken each other, joining with him in this intimate way still feels like the most natural thing in the world.

  I just keep thinking that it's been so long and I've needed it so much and I've missed him like crazy. I feel those confessions on the tip of my tongue but I swallow them down and go with something a little less emotionally charged. "Fuck me…Yeh…Like that…Right there…" I groan the words into the curve of his neck.

  He pivots around and sets me on the floor. I cry out softly, my body mourning when he slips out of me. He spins me to face the console table. With a firm hand on my back, he pushes me down and I'm bent over in front of him. I drag my dress up over my ass, my pussy drooling for him, begging him to hammer me until I'm coming hard. His open palm comes down on my flesh and I hiss, the line between pain and pleasure blurred. That's it, baby. He still remembers how I like it.

  And now he's inside of me again. Rutting, fucking me, making me tremble deep in my bones. I thrust back against him, wanting to remember just how deep he can go. His fingers circle my clit and my mouth goes dry. My eyes water. His fingers slide through my hair and he yanks me up, causing a sting to travel through my limbs.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror on the wall. I see the desperation. He's aroused to the point of delirium. "Come for me, Grace. Look me in my eyes and come for me."

  The earth moves beneath my feet. My whole world stops. A helpless whimper escapes my lips as my body clenches with the orgasm.

  Daniel holds me to him, his body rigid and his skin taut as his seed shoots into my trembling pussy.

  Fuzzy thoughts spin in my head. What the hell was that? What does it mean? We stand there, his body wrapped around mine, his chest heaving against my back as we stare at each other in the mirror and I try to make sense of what we just did.

  I think that I'm in shock. Stunned that we're together. Like this.

  Didn't I just hate him? Yesterday? And didn't he hate me? Is this wrong? This is wrong...right?

  His pointer flicks over my chin and my attention floats back to him. His eyes shimmer. "Stop overthinking this, Grace…It's me."

  A smile flutters across my lips and I exhale. He knows me so well. It’s insane. I don’t even have to utter a sound for him to know exactly what I’m thinking.

&nb
sp; A weak whimper travels down the stairs and quickly turns into a wail. "Sebastian..."

  "Yeah. Go to him." Daniel's hands fall from my body and his cock slips out of me. His cum is warm as it slides down my leg.

  I straighten my dress and my underwear as Daniel tucks his shirt into his pants. I lean into the mirror and tuck my hair away from my face. As I turn toward the stairs, his fingers close around my wrist. "Grace..."