by Lauren Runow
I raise my knuckle to her chin and touch it ever so gently, moving her gaze to mine. When she sees me, her chest falls, and I can see the tension she’s carrying relax just a little.
“What I did tonight was wrong,” I say in a pleading tone.
She raises her eyebrows in a no-shit way.
“You’ve known I have baggage, but what you don’t know is, I have a history,” I start and see her brows fall in confusion. “The reason your father is apprehensive about me is not because of my age or dating rumors. It’s about the truth. Something that happened not too long ago.”
I get the feeling she’s not going to make this easy for me, and I don’t blame her. I was violent tonight. My adrenaline levels are plummeting right now from the outrageous peak they were at earlier. I turned into an animal with zero control. I can’t do that ever again. The price to pay is way too steep.
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning. “Michelle was my first love. I swore up and down she was my one and only and that I’d spend the rest of my life with her.”
Justine takes a breath in, and I can imagine that was a weird sentence for her to hear, but I need her to know the truth.
“We met when she was in college and did the whole marriage thing right, I thought. We waited to get married until after she finished college, and then we moved to Mason Creek since that was where she was from. I wanted to make sure she knew I was the one for her even if there was never a question in my mind.”
I drop my head down, remembering that feeling of complete helplessness and how I had no control over my life. Unfortunately, it’s all coming back with how I’m feeling about Justine.
“When she got pregnant with Matthew, it wasn’t planned, but I was over the moon.”
Justine readjusts on the bed, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m making her uncomfortable or if she’s into my story, so I rise up and sit next to her. My eyes are on her the entire time even though she’s looking at everything in the room but me.
“Life was good for a while. Michelle’s a great mom, and we got the hang of having a baby around. I guess we started to live in what she called Groundhog Day, where every day was the same. Get up, go to work, help Matthew with his homework, attend his games, and go to bed, only to do the same thing all over again. There were no nights at the bar or big group gatherings. It didn’t bother me. Sometimes we enjoyed movies at home and campfires in the yard. That was enough for me. I loved the life we’d created.”
I smile, thinking about those days. Michelle bringing out the fixings to make s’mores and Matthew and I roasting marshmallows until they were burned to a crisp. Then having the two of them in the yard, falling asleep to the sound of my guitar. We’d have dance parties in the living room and laugh. We laughed a lot. Michelle seemed happy.
Didn’t she?
I rub my hand over my head and down my face, still trying it figure out how I missed it all.
I continue, “I had no idea just how unhappy she was. That’s why we bought the houseboat and the ski boat. It was something we could do that was fun and different than our day-to-day life.
“As time went by, she didn’t like that I didn’t want more than working at the shop. She didn’t want to work anymore, but we couldn’t make it happen on just my income alone. I should have seen it coming, but I was so blind.”
“What happened next?” she asks, her expression showing compassion yet still appearing guarded.
I say a silent pray to the good Lord that she’s willing to hear my story and possibly understand and forgive me for my actions.
“Kenneth.”
Her eyes widen. I’m sure she’s figured out where this story is going.
“They started having an affair the year before I found out.” I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head. “She was able to keep it a secret in this town. The three of us spent so much time together, so no one was the wiser.”
She places her hand over mine. “How did you find out?”
“I came home for lunch one day and found them in my bed together,” I say with a bitter bite to my words. “I guess we weren’t really living in a Groundhog Day after all. I wasn’t so predictable because that day, I gave the lunch she’d packed me to my coworker who was in need, and I came home to grab something else.”
She covers her mouth in shock. “That must have been horrible to see.”
“You know, my wife cheating on me hurt, but Kenneth? My best friend screwing the mother of my child on my bed sent me into a rage.”
This is where I pause and take a moment, not wanting to relive that moment but knowing I have to.
“I lost my mind. I was so blindsided that all my sense of reality completly left me and I leaped for him. I beat Kenneth that day. Right on my bed, I pummeled him and couldn’t stop. Michelle screamed so loud that it knocked me out of whatever trance I had been in. When I looked down, he was bloodied and beaten, rolling off the bed and starting to crawl.
“She begged me to calm down. When I looked at her, she was wearing a robe, and it reminded me of what had happened. She’d slept with my best friend. I turned back to Kenneth, but he managed to get up and ran outside.”
My voice is shaky, and I’m not sure if I can go on. I feel the support she’s offering when her hand reaches to mine.
“Michelle called the sheriff.” I drop my head to my chest. “I was able to catch up to Kenneth. He had the balls to stand up and tell me he loved her more than I did. I hit him again. Coldcocked him in the face, and when he fell to the ground, I didn’t stop. I heard Michelle scream, and that was when I noticed he was unconscious.”
I turn to her to make sure she knows I’m serious. “I tried to wake him up, but he was out like a light. I thought he was dead. I panicked and started screaming until the neighbors came outside. All they did was stare as the sheriff’s car came down the street.”
She squeezes my hand and scoots closer to me. “Kenneth lived.”
“I hate that son of a bitch, but I thank God every day that he did.” I shake my head. “He was in the hospital for a while. About as long as I was in jail. Arrested for nearly killing my best friend.”
My mouth clenches as tears build behind my eyes. I refuse to cry over this shit. It’s not Kenneth that makes me sad. Or Michelle. I’m over her. It’s the fear of how much I stood to lose that nearly cripples me.
“I’d never felt so helpless in my life. There I was, behind bars, while Kenneth was in the hospital. My wife was leaving me, and I was told I’d never see my son again. Matthew was at such an impressionable age. I didn’t want him to know I’d almost killed anyone, and even more, I didn’t want him to know why. Of course, in this town, he found out.”
“What happened wasn’t only your fault.”
I let out a breath as I drop my head. “Wasn’t it though?”
She makes me look her in the eye. “Your wife shouldn’t have been cheating on you. That was all on her.”
I glance up at the ceiling. “It was such a mess. My sister bailed me out of jail and brought me to a hotel while we figured out what to do. She knew the case was bad and wanted to get me the best defense attorney, which I refused because I couldn’t afford it. I was prepared to lose everything.”
“How did you get it all back?”
I smile. Still, to this day, I’m in disbelief by the turn of events. “Kenneth showed up. The guy I’d called my friend came to my hotel room in crutches. He was probably on a shitload of painkillers because he apologized. To me. Said he was sorry. He’d lied, and to show his remorse, he wasn’t going to press charges, and Michelle agreed. They decided moving on was what was best for everyone. I went along with it because it was what was best for Matthew. I guess I should thank the bastard for that.”
“Yeah, I think he owed you one.” Her light laugh comes through, and it surprises me.
“Are you …” I pause, a little nervous with how she’ll respond. “Are you afraid of me now?”
Justine’s eyebrows
furrow as she tilts her head and looks at me. Her eyes search mine for an answer to my question.
“No,” she says quietly. “You’re a good man, Tucker Simms. Those guys that attacked me weren’t. There’s a difference of fighting for what is yours and hurting people for greed. I understand the difference and will never compare you to those men.”
“That’s a fucking relief.”
I move up the bed to lie on my back, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. I’ve never really told anyone this story.
To my surprise, she does the same and curls into my chest. I grab her hand in mine and begin to play with her fingers, the motion more soothing than I ever imagined.
I take a deep breath in and let it out, feeling like I’m letting go of my past just the same.
I turn my head to see her better. Placing my finger on her chin, I tilt her up to me. “I know that’s not an excuse for what happened tonight. But I saw his arm on you, and part of me wanted to protect you while part of me only saw you with another guy. I’m really sorry though. I promise it won’t happen again.”
She stares into my eyes for a moment, and then she leans up and presses her lips against mine.
When I lace my fingers through her hair and pull her in closer to me, all is lost. Every bit of emotion I felt tonight is healed by this one kiss. Her kiss.
I honestly never thought I’d feel any of these emotions again. Not the ones I felt when I saw that man touch Justine and definitely not the ones I’m feeling now.
She wraps her leg across my body, and I instantly get hard. As I grind up against her, the slight moan that escapes her lips is the exact invitation I need. She might have been pissed at me before, but I know I have her full permission to take this as far as I want to go, and right now, I want all of her, naked underneath me and screaming my name.
As I run my fingers under her shirt, I feel her slightly pull away, so I can move it up and over her head. Gliding my hand across her bare back makes me groan, and I only want her more, but I also need to slow this down. No matter how much I want to fuck her and claim her as mine, marking her with my cum, that’s not what we both need.
I need to show her exactly what she means to me.
I palm her back, grinding against her again to relieve any type of pressure I can get.
Her hands reach down to my belt buckle, undoing it and then quickly moving on to my button and zipper. When her hands move around my cock, I have to close my eyes tightly to not let the pleasure get the best of me because right now is the most turned on I think I’ve ever been.
Before, when I was first learning my ex-wife’s body, I was so young. I was just excited to be having sex. This is so different. This is real.
I roll her onto her back and kiss my way down her neck, to her clavicle, breasts, navel, and then to her pants. As I unbutton the top button and slide down her zipper, I look straight into her eyes. I want to tell her how much she means to me, but I know this is too early. That kind of stuff can wait. Tonight, I want to show her just how amazing she makes me feel.
I slide her pants down her legs after removing her shoes. Feeling her smooth skin along the way makes my chest tight.
How can one woman affect me in so many different ways?
I kick off the rest of my clothes and slide toward her, wanting to feel every inch of her naked body pressed against mine.
As I lie on top of her, I run my fingers down her hair and to her cheek. I’m hoping this simple glance and this small touch say everything I’m feeling. With the way she’s staring back up at me, I think it does. And even better, I see the same way I’m feeling reflecting in her eyes back at me.
I lean down and kiss her lips softly, passionately, emotionally. As I rub my cock against her, I can tell how wet she is already, just from our bodies being together.
Moving my hand down her body, I run it through her slit, circling around her clit until I get to her opening, where I’m met with the slickest, most welcoming spot I’ve ever felt.
“Please,” she moans against my lips. “I want you inside me now.”
Hearing how bad she wants me hits me hard, and for a second, I can barely breathe. Taking a deep inhale, I run my tip against her entrance, wanting nothing more than to slide in bare.
She nods her head. “I’m on the pill. It’s okay.”
Fuck me.
If I thought I couldn’t breathe before, now, I feel like I’m in cardiac arrest. The girl of my dreams wants me as bad as I want her, and I’m more than willing to give her everything I’ve got.
“I’m clean. I promise, I don’t normally do this kind of thing,” I whisper, needing her to know I would never do anything to harm her.
“I know. I trust you.” She grabs my ass, spreading her legs wider.
My cock slides in with ease, and I have to pause just to get my bearings. I grip her hair with both of my hands as I squeeze her tight. She does the same, and I swear I see stars like I’m floating into the dark night sky.
When I slide out of her, she lets out the sexiest sound, better than any music I’ve ever heard. From now on, she’s my music, my song, my lyrics, and my melody, all in one.
We find our rhythm while I keep my eyes closed, letting every sensation, every noise she’s making, every touch I feel be the only things guiding me.
I speed up, and she screams in ecstasy. I slow down, and she moans and wiggles her body against mine in desperation. I’m in the best fucking spot of my life, and knowing she’s here, with me, is a dream come true.
Her pants get deeper, her grasp tighter, and I know she’s close. I rock my hips in just the right way, and when she gasps every time I push into her, I know I’ve hit that spot.
Her hands grip my back as I hear her harsh intake of air, and I pause, letting her pussy clench around me as her orgasm rips through her body. I watch as her head falls back, and her breath is silent.
When she slowly comes back to me, I pump two more times inside her and let go as I kiss her lips. Claiming her one last time as mine and hoping it’s forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Justine
I wake up, feeling unusually content. Tucker took me to new heights I hadn’t even known were possible, and all I want is more.
I hear the strums of a guitar coming from the open door of our balcony. It’s sweet and melodic and so enjoyable that I close my eyes, curl into the sheets, and let Tucker’s music add to the calm of this lazy morning.
The man was right. He’s good with his hands. A mechanic and a musician is a lethal combination.
I’m giggling to myself when the music stops. In fact, it’s been playing and then stopping a few times this morning.
A frustrated grunt echoes through the air, and I pause to see if I can hear it more clearly.
There’s another grunt, followed by a few grumbled expletives. I sit up in bed to look out the glass doors and see what’s the matter.
A shirtless Tucker is sitting on the deck off our room.
He’s playing his guitar and then stops to stare at his hands, like they’re misbehaved children, open and closing them in a way that looks forced.
His shoulders are tense, the sweet gaze of his eyes are narrowed in frustration, and his brow is crinkled and upset.
I slide out of bed and grab his T-shirt from last night off the floor, slide it over my head, and go out to see what’s wrong.
When I open the sliding glass door, he instantly sits up straighter and sets his guitar down.
Turning to me, he holds out his hand for me to join him. His usual grin is there, just more forced than this robust man usually bears.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says.
“Morning,” I say tentatively.
If I hadn’t had seen him frustrated, then I would have never known. As I step closer and take his hand, his body, which was tight and rigid, softens, and his eyes become more welcoming.
He guides me to sit on his lap, and then he runs his hand up my thigh and kisses my n
eck.
“Damn, you look sexy in my shirt.”
“Isn’t that a country song?” I tease, running my fingers through his beard.
He laughs out loud. “You’re thinking of ‘You Look Good in My Shirt’ by Keith Urban.”
“Sexy sounds way better than good.”
“I‘ll play it for you at one of my shows.”
“What about right now? A private concert for just me?”
He glances down at his hand, and his brow furrows before he looks up at me with a crooked grin. “I think a sexy serenade might be better. You certainly liked it last time.” He softly bites my neck, making me giggle. “But then again, everyone would know I’m singing it about you, and I don’t want other men getting any ideas.”
“You have nothing to worry about with me. I’m all yours.” I lean in and kiss him deeply, biting his lower lip as I pull away. “Just don’t sing it at any show my parents come to.”
That elicits a light laugh from him, and he pulls me tighter onto his lap.
We sit in silence, holding each other, when I ask, “What was wrong earlier?”
I feel him shake his head against my body. “It was nothing.”
Pulling back, I look him in the eyes. “Sure didn’t seem like nothing. What’s wrong with your hand? I saw you opening and closing it, and you were having trouble playing.”
He rests his head against my chest. He’s unusually quiet, and the way his arms are tense, it makes me wonder if he’s thinking about something, so I give him all the time he needs.
After a minute or so, he says, “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s getting worse.”
“How so?” I run my fingers through his hair, making sure he knows he can tell me anything.
He takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. “I’ve just been noticing something’s going on with my hands. At work, I’ve been having trouble gripping things, and this morning, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Do you need to see a doctor?”
He shrugs. “It’s no big deal. I’ve had it happen before, and it went away. It just seems to have been getting worse more recently, but I’m not concerned. Do you want some breakfast? Should we order in or go out?”