Think Again

by Isabel Lucero

Dr. C: Hey, I hope everything went okay last night. Call me later so we can talk. Hope you’re feeling better.

  Shit. That doesn’t sound strictly professional, does it? If Aaron saw that, that might be why he came back looking so miserable. Should I try to explain? Do I need to? He’s still the asshole that’s been cheating on me for I don’t know how long.

  I ignore it for now, swiping the phone to unlock it and dial Scott. After explaining to him my injury, he tries to get me to meet him at the clinic so he can check me out. After assuring him that I’m fine, he lets me know I can take a couple days off if I need to.

  Aaron comes to the table once I hang up the phone and gives me a quick peck on the forehead. “I gotta go to work. You’ll be okay?”

  “On a Sunday?” I question, my brows furrowing.

  He sighs. “I just have to take care of a few things.”

  I turn my head from him and take a drink of water. I have nothing to say to him.

  “So, you’ll be okay?”

  I nod. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Call if you need me.”

  I don’t verbally respond, I just give a hint of a nod. Only one side of his mouth lifts in what I assume is a smile tinged with sadness. Why is he sad?

  Once he leaves, I go back into the living room, preparing to be on the couch most of the day. After a few hours of watching TV and being bored out of my mind, I end up falling back asleep for a couple more hours.

  It isn’t until noon that I wake up, feeling hungry and annoyed that I can’t move as fast as I want. When I look at my phone, I notice another text from Chris and one from Janna. For whatever reason, I don’t feel like talking to anybody, so they both go ignored.

  My day drags on, and I swear this house has become the place where time stands still. By the time three o’clock comes around, I feel like ripping my hair out. Getting around the house has gotten a little easier, but it’s still a very slow process, and I only get up to use the bathroom or get a snack.

  The only thing that gets me through the day is thoughts of my kiss with Chris. As I relive the moment over and over in my head, wondering if and when it might happen again, a tiny tinge of hypocrisy slaps me in the face.

  I know. How can I be so angry at Aaron for doing everything he’s done when I’m beginning to do the same thing? Humans are strange creatures like that. We can do wrong and cause pain, but when done to us, we flip the fuck out.

  Now, let’s think about this, though. Aaron has been lying and cheating for god knows how long. I kissed one person once. That’s hardly equal. I know that doesn’t make what I did right, and it’s probably not the best decision I’ve ever made, but something about being with Chris feels so right. Any time spent with Aaron feels forced.

  When Aaron began cheating, he and I were in a good place. We didn’t fight or have any problems at all. The only reason why we do now is because of him.

  I’m fed up and sick of letting this happen to me. What’s so wrong in having fun when I know my marriage isn’t going to last, anyway?

  My phone dings with a text message.

  Dr. C: Are you avoiding me?

  I decide to adopt a fuck it attitude and do what I want without thinking of anything else.

  Me: Of course not. What’s up?

  Dr. C: Not much. I’ve been getting my house set up, and thinking about you all day.

  The school girl in me squeals internally, but the smile on my face is anything but hidden. His words make me feel good, and I can’t tell you the last time that’s happened.

  Me: I’ve been thinking about you too.

  Dr. C: I need to see you again.

  Me: When and where?

  My heart pounds at the thought of doing more with Chris. The excitement overtakes any fears or doubts. I need to be with him again. I don’t care about anything else right now. Lust is a powerful thing.

  Dr. C: Now.

  Oh, god. Now? The nerves kick in, and my stomach does so many flips that I almost feel nauseous. Is this really going to happen? I take a look at the time and wonder if I could leave before Aaron gets here. With him, you never know when he may show up.

  Me: Can you get here fast?

  Dr. C: Already on the way.

  “Shit.”

  I rush to get a little decent. I was such a lazy bum today, I barely did anything with myself. Trying to get to the bathroom with as much speed as I can muster, I remove the braid from my hair and am left with some waves which I gather into a ponytail, allowing a side sweep of bangs to drape across my face.

  Today I put more effort into my makeup, choosing to highlight my green eyes with eyeshadow, liner, and mascara. My lips are painted a mauve color, and I use a moisturizing Chap Stick to give them just a hint of shine.

  Wanting to be dressed a little better than what I’m usually in around him: scrubs and workout gear, I have to get upstairs to my room. It takes time, but I make it up and into my room rather easily. Thank goodness for the hand rails.

  I pull a cute summer dress from the closet that I haven’t worn in a while. It’s a plain, mint green, chiffon dress with cut-out, mesh, split long sleeves. The neckline is a low v, but it shows no cleavage, and it stops several inches above my knee. It’s both sexy and casual. An all-purpose dress.

  Since I can’t wear heels, I find some gold sandals and match those up with some gold bangles around my wrist.

  I run my hand up my leg, checking to see if I need to shave. It’s a bit prickly. Dammit. I limp my way into the bathroom and do a quick shave out of the shower, and hope to high heaven that I don’t get razor burn. After applying some lotion on my legs, I make my way down the stairs. I actually contemplate sliding down the hand rail, but with my luck, I’ll fall and hurt something else.

  As I get to the landing halfway between both sets of stairs, I notice a vehicle approaching the house. There are so many large windows in this house, that it’s almost all glass on two walls. The views are gorgeous though, so I know why it was built this way. Alaska has a majestic beauty that you can only truly understand if you experience it in person. If you’re lucky, you get a house that allows you to witness it every day, no matter what room you’re in.

  When I turn and go down the second half of the stairs, my phone dings with a message.

  Dr. C: I’m here. Need help?

  Me: No. I’m on my way.

  After grabbing my purse and keys, I open the front door and go outside. Chris sits inside a sexy-as-fuck, two door, black Audi. I couldn’t tell you which kind, but I know it’s an Audi based on the four rings on the grill.

  “Nice car,” I say as I slide inside, onto the black leather seat.

  “Thanks. I missed my baby.”

  “Men and their cars,” I say, playfully rolling my eyes. “I hope you have an SUV for the winter.”

  “I don’t,” he answers, looking a little worried.

  I laugh. “Not everybody does, but the roads can get pretty bad, and your baby here is pretty low. You might have issues getting out of your driveway if the plows haven’t come through yet.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles, allowing his eyes to inspect my body. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” I reply with a blush.

  “So, where do you want to go?” he asks.

  “I thought you had a plan already.”

  “My only plan was to see you.”

  “So, now that you’ve seen me, I can go back inside?” I joke, reaching for the door handle.

  “I don’t think so.” He quickly puts his car in reverse and speeds off down the road.

  I catch him looking over at my exposed legs. When he looks into my eyes, I smirk, letting him know I caught him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  “How’s the ankle?” he asks.

  “It’s okay. I’m still Sir Limps-A-Lot, but it’s not too bad.”

  Chris barks out a laugh. “Well, that’s good.”

  “How was your day?” I ask

  “
It was good. I have almost everything set up in the house, but I still need to go grocery shopping.”

  “Have you already checked out of the hotel?”

  “No, not yet. Today’s my last day.”

  While he drives, I take some time to look him over. He’s wearing a dark gray T-shirt that hugs his muscles and puts his ink on display, and a pair of black basketball shorts. The hair on his head is combed back with what looks like just a hint of gel to keep it in place. His facial hair has been trimmed since yesterday, making it clear to me that he doesn’t allow it to get too long, but it still looks good. I seriously can’t get over how attractive he is.

  “What?” he questions, catching me studying him. His smile tells me that he knows I was checking him out.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head with a smile on my face. “So, where we going?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat,” I say with a shrug.

  “Did you want to go out to eat, or . . . do you not want to be out in public?”

  I hate that I am concerned about being out in public with him. Any lady would want to flaunt him all over town, but that’s something I can’t do.

  “Uhh, well . . .” I can’t bring myself to tell him I don’t want to go out with him, but he knows the situation.

  “We can order room service,” he states, making the decision for me.

  “Room service? We’re going to the hotel?”

  “I don’t have food at my house yet.”

  “Okay,” I concede.

  I guess it doesn’t matter whether we go to the hotel or his house, but the thought of the hotel seems more scandalous. Like we’re only going for sex. Is that what we’re doing?

  When we arrive at the hotel, we both go straight for the elevator, passing the large fountain that sits in the lobby. There’s three whale’s tails emerging from the water, making it look like they’re swimming just below the surface. Water flows from the backs of the tails, falling back into the pool. A small bear perched on stone sits on each side of the row of elevators, highlighting Alaska’s love of wildlife . . . and love of hunting.

  Chris presses the button that takes us to the third floor, and before I know it, we’re crossing the threshold into his room, and my heart begins pumping harder in my chest. Being alone with Chris has always been interesting, but being alone with Chris in a room with a bed should be very interesting.

  The room is actually split into two rooms with one side playing the part of the living room, housing a small couch, TV, desk, and a couple of tables. The other room holds the bathroom and bedroom.

  “Let me get the menu,” Chris says, walking to the desk. “I’ve ordered from this too many times to count, but they have really good food.”

  I take it from his hands. “Okay, let’s see what they have.”

  It’s a pretty fancy selection for room service, but I’m not surprised because their bar/restaurant duo downstairs is an upscale place. I don’t think I need a fancy prime rib steak or halibut and crab.

  “Not finding anything?” he asks, taking his watch off and placing it on the desk.

  “I wasn’t too hungry to begin with, and these are pretty big meals. And expensive. I don’t need any of this.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Are you hungry, though?”

  “We can order something from outside the hotel if you want, or we can wait until you’re hungry. I’m fine for now.”

  “Okay,” I say with a shrug. “Let’s wait a bit.”

  The following silence is awkward. We both stand in the middle of the living room area, unsure of what to do or say next.

  I laugh a nervous laugh, looking at him for a brief second and then pretend that I care what the room looks like. My head turns, looking at the cream colored walls, the maroon colored floor, and the weird paintings that make no sense.

  “Come,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the couch. “We should talk.”

  Oh boy. The dreaded we should talk conversation. Isn’t it too early for us to be having this kind of conversation?

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He looks down at our still joined hands and then back up at me. “So, last night.”

  I crack a grin and he smiles back. “Last night,” I repeat. “Last night was . . .” I let out a puff of air, “nice.”

  “I would’ve used a better adjective,” he says with a smirk, “but I’ll take it. How were things after I left?” he asks, concern in his voice.

  With a sigh, I tell him a brief version of what happened. “Things were fine. He assumed you were going to be as old as Scott, so I think he was thrown for a loop when he figured out you were the one I was out with before. He was angry that I needed someone there to help me, and questioned why I couldn’t do it on my own.” I roll my eyes. “I fell asleep on the couch and he went upstairs. We didn’t talk about it again.”

  “I’m sorry if my being there caused problems.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, our problems are for far worse reasons.”

  I feel his thumb rub the back of my hand, slowly moving upwards towards my wrist and forearm. His eyes are once again on our hands, and then I realize he’s looking at my wedding ring.

  “Aria.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ve never done this before. Lust after a married woman. I know I should just walk away and let you figure out your life without making things more complicated. I know that’s probably the right thing to do.” He brings one of his hands up and runs it through his hair and then down his face in frustration. “But I don’t think I’m that good of a guy. I’m selfish. I want to spend time with you, getting to know you better. I want to be able to caress your soft skin, showing you how a man should worship your body.” His hand travels up my arm, his fingers dancing a slow dance on my skin. “Everything that you want, everything you need, I want you to get from me.” His hand reaches the side of my neck, his thumb running across my jawline as his blue eyes penetrate my green ones. His right hand stays on my left one, and I can feel his thumb resting on the diamond of my ring. “I want you to come to me and for me.”

  He leans forward, his tongue darting out and licking the seam of my lips. I gasp, opening my mouth for his kiss. To my disappointment, it ends quickly.

  “Chris,” I all but beg.

  “I want that, too. I want to hear you call out my name. I want a lot from you, Aria, but what I don’t want is for you to have this on when you’re with me,” he says, tugging on my wedding ring. “I don’t want to think that you’re going back home to him and giving him what you give me. I don’t want you to call out his name. I don’t want you to feel his touch. But I know that’s not fair, and I don’t have the right to ask that of you, and that’s where my problem lies.”

  He sits back, and it takes me several seconds to find the right words to respond with. I want to tell him that I’ll give him whatever he wants. I want to tell him that I don’t even want to sleep with Aaron anymore. There are so many thoughts swimming around in my head and I just can’t catch one. I think about his own words to me. He wants me to come to him and for him. He wants to worship my body. So many things that I also want, but feel ashamed to ask for.

  “Chris,” I breathe. “I don’t know . . . I want . . .”

  I’m unable to finish because my phone goes off. Chris sits back into the cushion, his arm draped over the back, and his eyes still on me. I don’t break contact right away, but my phone dings again, reminding me of the text message I’ve yet to check. My purse rests at my feet, so I reach inside and pull it out.

  Aaron.

  Shit.

  Guiltily, I look up at Chris and I can tell that he knows who it is.

  “Go ahead,” he tells me.

  I unlock the phone and read his message.

  Aaron: Hey, I’ll be home in about half an hour, and if you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take you out to dinner. What do you say?

  I can’t even begin to think about why he’
s trying to take me out to dinner, or why I’m getting messages from him during the day, letting me know when he’ll be home. This is all new. All I can think about is how he’s going to be home in half an hour, and how I’m about twenty minutes away from home. If he gets there and I’m not there, he’ll wonder where I was, considering I can’t drive just yet. I don’t have a good excuse, and I can’t possibly tell him that Chris came and picked me up and brought me to his hotel room. I chew on my lip, trying to come up with a plan.

  “Gotta go?” Chris asks.

  He doesn’t sound angry, but he definitely doesn’t sound pleased. The tone in his voice is probably more annoyed than anything, but it’s obvious he’s trying to hide the frustration because he’s aware of the situation we’re in.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, hoping my eyes convey how bad I feel.

  “It’s fine,” he replies, standing up.

  “I don’t want to go,” I tell him, and it’s true. I wish I could have some more time to talk to him.

  “But you have to,” he says, finishing my sentence. “I know. Don’t worry, Aria.” He grabs the keys from the desk.

  I stand up and make my way closer to him. “Chris, I want to be able to talk more about this. I want . . .” I chew on my bottom lip again.

  He finally looks at me. “You want what, Aria?” he questions, needing me to voice my wants.

  “I want . . .”

  My phone dings in my hand. With a quick glance I see it’s another text from Aaron.

  Something flashes in Chris’s eyes. Lust, need, and maybe a little anger. He takes two large steps, his body colliding into mine. His hands cup my cheeks, tilting my head back as his mouth descends onto mine. My phone clatters to the floor, and I let my arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer.

  Our kiss is rough and needy. We both moan into each other’s mouths, our lips clashing together and our tongues dancing around one another.

  I feel him growing hard, and have to fight the urge to grind myself on him. Knowing that my self-control won’t last much longer because it’s been over a month since I’ve had sex, and Chris is sex on legs, I pull away.

  Chris growls, moving his hands to my waist and pulling me into him again.