Eventually, we did come to my bedroom. She'd seen everything, except my office and the nursery now.
When she entered, I couldn't help but feel like she belonged there.
Outside, dark, angry clouds were gathering in the sky. Raindrops began pelting the windows, their shadows falling over her face.
“It's beautiful here,” she said.
“This place is my sanctuary. The world outside seems so bitter and gray.” I wandered over to her, unable to resist touching her. Bringing my knuckles over her shoulders, I dragged them down to her forearms. “I'd love for you to live here with me.”
“What about your campaign? What would the world think about a politician with a promiscuous swinger for a girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “That dream is dead. I killed it. I freely admit it's my fault. Emily's gone and she took my family with her.” I wrapped my arms around her. “It doesn't matter anymore.” I sighed and inhaled the scent of her shampoo. She smelled so different from before, not like vanilla or sugar at all. I suddenly realized I didn't care what scent she wore. As long as it was on her, I could love it. “That dream's been replaced by another more powerful one.”
“I don't think I want to hear about that one.” Her hand lifted and touched my arm.
I trembled as she fulfilled part of every fantasy I'd had for the past few weeks. One of the things I'd wanted most was to just feel her touch.
“What now?” she asked.
“Whatever you want. We can have dinner or … ” I slid my hands down to her hips. “We can go to bed.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I want what you want,” I insisted. “Tell me to do anything. I'll do it.”
“Dinner would be lovely,” she answered.
Within an hour, we were seated at the dining table enjoying roasted game hens, quinoa, and a beet-carrot slaw. Nadine baked two lava cakes and served them up nice and hot. Chastity requested vanilla ice-cream, and Nadine cheerfully obliged. I hadn't eaten dinner at home in weeks. I could tell she was happy to see someone enjoying her cooking.
I took her up to my study, not wanting her to think I just wanted her there for sex. I didn't just want her body there; I wanted all of her.
We sat on the couch and watched a movie together. She leaned into me and ate handfuls of popcorn. We laughed and made fun of the script. I felt like a teenager, and I loved every second of it.
As the credits rolled, she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you,” I confessed again. “I wish every day could be like this.”
“Don't talk,” she ordered.
“Yes ma'am,” I said with a chuckle.
Our lips met softly at first, but the urgency of the kiss grew. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought she needed me just as badly as I did her. Her hands slid down my chest and traveled under my shirt. My fingers roved over every accessible inch of her.
Before long we were out of breath. “I think it's time we move to the bedroom,” I said.
She nodded and wrapped her arms around me. I lifted her in my arms and took her to my room.
We'd heard several thunderclaps sound off in the distance. After the most recent one, a flash illuminated her face. The table lamps flickered, then went out. “Looks like mother nature turned the lights out for us,” she said with a grin.
I smiled. “I don't need to see you. I know you by heart.”
In the darkness, I took my time undressing her until she was bare and vulnerable in front of me. When our bodies joined, I savored every moment. We slowly came together in a rattling, satisfying simultaneous orgasm, the likes of which I'd only felt once … and only with her.
As I had weeks before, I tucked myself into her side and nuzzled her smooth skin. I was instantly asleep and didn't wake for hours.
When I came to, she was gone. In my panic, I looked around for her bag. It was still on my dresser. I heaved a sigh of relief and pulled on a set of pajamas before searching the house for her.
My search ended, oddly enough, in the nursery. The moonlight shone through the windows, casting white light into the abandoned room. Chastity was holding one of Katherine's stuffed bears and staring down into its eyes.
“Having trouble sleeping?” I asked.
She glanced up. “I don't sleep well in general.”
I approached the rocking chair and knelt in front of her, resting my head in her lap beside the bear. “Why don't you come back to bed?”
“Jack, why would you give up everything for me … all of this, your family?”
“I can't explain it. It's the most powerful feeling I've ever had. When I'm with you, nothing else matters.” I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles. “We can start over, Chastity. I don't care about your past. All I care about is your future. I want that to be with me. I want you to marry me. Be my wife.”
“I'm sorry. I can't, Jack.”
I panicked. It was too much too soon. “You're right. I'm sorry.” I set my forehead on her knee. “Forget I said anything.”
“I don't know what love feels like, but I can see it in you. You can love again if you try. Give it to someone who deserves it.”
“But you do deserve it, Chastity. Everybody does,” I insisted.
“I can't take her place, you know. I can't love you like Emily did. I don't feel anything. Nothing's changed.”
“No.” I grasped her hand as if she'd float away if I let go. “Everything's changed. If you didn't love me, you'd never have agreed to stay here with me tonight. You wouldn't have slept with me.”
“I just did this to get you off my back.” She stroked my brow tenderly. “But I see now that this was a mistake.”
“No, it wasn't!” I argued. “This proves you love me.”
“It's against my nature.”
“Fuck nature! Fuck the tests and the charts. They aren't people with hearts. They're just numbers that tell you how to live your life. They hold you down, but I'd never do that.” I pulled close and pressed my face into her chest. “You're the last good thing in my life. I want to keep you with me forever.”
“I told you before, Jack. Nobody can own me. You've got to let me go. You've got to accept your punishment.”
“I accept it. I'll live every day with what I've done as long as you're the one doing the punishing. Stay with me and I'll let you punish me every day. … Just don't go.” My eyes hurt and I felt moisture on my face. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care if it wasn't manly to cry. I'd never meant anything more than my plea for her to stay.
She lifted my chin and smoothed my tears off my cheek with her thumb. “I'm going home. Will you drive me, or should I call a cab?”
“No.” I shook my head in disbelief, burying my face in her lap. “No. No. No!”
She stood up and I slid down to her ankles. I held on, but she managed to step out of my grasp. She disappeared out the door, and I heard her pad down to the bedroom. The quick rustling of clothes ensued.
I got to my feet and staggered toward the bedroom. Before I knew it, she was taking the stairs down to the first floor. I followed, still in my pajamas, but I couldn't catch up to her.
She opened the door and stepped out into the rain but apparently didn't give it a second thought. She marched quickly down the driveway toward the street.
I ran along behind her, but she was so fast.
On the sidewalk, she shielded her eyes from the downpour and spotted the bus stop across the street. She attempted to wave down a taxi, but the first car passed her by. She saw me coming up behind her and made a mad dash to cross the street.
It was all over in seconds.
The truck driver couldn't see her, and she was too slow to dodge.
The vehicle struck her, sending her over the windshield and rolling onto the pavement.
I rushed to her side, running barefoot over shards of wet glass. I dropped down beside her. Blood poured from her nose. A deep cut in her head was gushing. Frantically, I pulled off my t-shirt and
held it to the wound.
“Chastity. Chastity. Stay with me.”
She was growing paler by the second. No one passed, not a single car or pedestrian.
I held her close to me, shook and screamed as she faded.
Dear God, I never pray, but if you ever look down on pieces of shit like me, if you ever hear it when bad people cry, I hope you hear me. I love this woman with all my heart. I don't know why and I don't know how. I don't even know if you care, but if you take her away from me, everything that's good in me, the small light she put there is going to be gone. Don't let that light go out. Please...
Little choking sounds came from her lips. For a brief moment, I thought I saw them move and form words … but no other sounds came out.
“No … No. No. No. No.”
My tears fell on her white cheek. Her lashes went still under the folds of my bloodied t-shirt. I squeezed her wrist, hoping … praying.
No pulse.
Epilogue
Six months later
Emily
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Drake asked.
I clutched the ring box in my hand. “Yeah. I don't want it anymore.”
“You can't wear the one I gave you either. Your fingers have swelled up too much.” He grinned. I lay my hand on my stomach where our son kicked my hand in response. The modest engagement ring he'd given me hung around my neck on a gold chain. This pregnancy had been much harder than my first with Katherine. I was as big as a house and I'd just entered my third trimester.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I don't think he'll hurt me.”
“I'll stand outside. If I hear anything, I'll come running.” He turned off the car and got out with me.
I walked up to the front door of Jack's mansion, the place I used to live, the place where I'd suffered so much heartache and pain. It seemed like a dark shadow on my life. So much had happened since then, that at times, I forgot it'd ever happened.
I wasn't the woman Jack had tried to make me into. I wasn't a politician's wife. I was Drakes fiance, his lover, and his best friend. He'd become a wonderful father to Katherine. I don't think she remembered Jack at all, but she was looking more like him every day. I wasn't sure how I'd handle it in the future, but I had Drake with me. We would get through.
At the front door, I knocked. All the windows were dark. I tried the door again.
It opened a crack and Dante's eye peered out. “Oh. Emily. I'm afraid now's not a good time.”
“I have to give him something,” I said, holding up the box.
“He's not doing well today.” He pursed his lips.
“I wouldn't feel right giving it to you to pass along. I think it'd be better if I gave it to him myself.”
He nodded. “Okay. Follow me.”
The house appeared to be closed up. All the furniture was covered in white sheets. The floors were dusty and the lights were off.
“Is he moving?” I asked.
“No. He just lives like this. He dismissed the last of the staff last month. It's just me now.”
Our footsteps echoed loudly on the marble floors. We passed through the foyer, down the hall, and to the back door.
Outside the sun was blinding. He'd definitely fired the gardener. All the shrubs and grass had grown too full and long. The flowers had all died. The fountains were dry. What was once an inviting swimming pool was half-full and littered with debris.
“He's this way,” Dante said softly.
He led me through the ruined garden and came to a stop at the mouth of an open lawn. He put a finger up to his lips to remind me to stay quiet.
There at the end of the path was Jack, sitting on his knees in front of a single headstone. Around it, the grass was vibrant and green. Flowers had been planted on the borders of the patch.
“She's buried there,” he whispered. “He goes there every day.”
My eyes stung. “He really did love her didn't he?”
“I think so. Sometimes he sits there and talks to her for hours. It's really pretty sad.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Maybe this can wait.”
Suddenly, Jack turned and looked over his shoulder. The vivid blue of his eyes had faded, the whites reddened. There were tear stains on his cheeks. He had a full, wild beard and his hair had grown out longer than I'd ever seen it.
His eyes wandered to my round stomach, then back up to my eyes. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to give this back.” I held out the box, trying to fight the rush of tears that threatened to burst from my eyes.
He turned back to the grave. “I'll be back later,” he murmured.
He stood up and walked toward me. He was shockingly thin. I hardly recognized this gruff, wounded man. If he'd ever had walls around his heart, they were at their thickest now. Behind them was a glacier stuck in a place where no light could penetrate.
Silently he held out his hand. His palms were rough and calloused. I realized he probably tended her grave on his own.
I set the box in the hollow of his hand. He opened it. Inside was my engagement ring and wedding band, along with the expensive Tiffany's ring he'd given me on the last happy day we'd had together. The sunlight bounced off the gems and struck his pale face.
He closed the box and tucked it into his pocket.
“Is that all?” he asked coldly.
“I wanted to say something that I haven't been able to say until now.” Maybe it was remnant feelings for him, or maybe it was pity that possessed me to reach out and take his hand. I looked into his eyes. “I'm sorry you lost her. I really mean that.”
Tears flooded his eyes, and for a few moments, they fell over his unchanging face. A breath escaped him.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Anything else?”
I shook my head.
I was sure this would be the last time I would ever see him, and he probably knew it, too, and yet he didn't say goodbye. He just turned his heels and walked back into the house.
Dante rubbed his forehead. “I'd better go make sure he's okay.”
I nodded. “I'll see you this Sunday for dinner, like usual.”
He gave me a small smile, then turned to follow his master.
I'd never known Chastity well in life; hell I'd straight up hated her, still I felt compelled to pay my respects. I walked to the closest flowering bush, plucked a bloom, and took it to her grave.
I knelt there and placed it at the base of the headstone.
The sun was beginning to set. It cast a glimmering pink light on the epitaph inscribed on the front of the grave marker.
Here lies the punishment for my sins,
ever in the ground
and yet ever in my heart,
My Chastity.
The End
Michelle Hughes grew up as a military brat and now calls Verbena, Alabama home. Her love of romance began early in life when she would sneak her granny's bodice rippers into the bathroom for great plots to play out with her Barbies. She's the mother of five great kids and married to the greatest fisherman on earth with a real job. Prior to a career in writing, Michelle was a singer/songwriter and hosted a televised talent showcase long before American Idol became popular.
Her favorite place in the world is New Orleans and she hopes to own a vampire nightclub there when her children are grown. She's written sixteen contemporary romances and enjoys penning young innocent women meeting strong alpha males that rock their world. Steamy, sensual, and happily ever after, that's what Hughes lives for in her world of romance.
Where to find Michelle:
TearsofCrimson.com
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Dahlia is an erotica and romance author living in Seattle, Washington. Originally from Coos Bay, Oregon, she's always dreamt of the big city and headed north w
here she met her husband and settled down. She's always been a reader, and has recently spread her wings and expanded her horizons. Now that she's begun writing, there's no end in sight to what she'd like to accomplish.
Where to find Dahlia:
DahliaSalvatore.com
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Traded for Love Page 32