Forever His Desire

by Valerie Lynne

  The hurt in her question nearly tore Andre apart. “More than anything else in this world,” he answered truthfully. “Please, Blue Eyes, just let me hold you.” Andre lowered his back onto the mattress, pulling Jennifer with him.

  Tucked beneath his arm, Jennifer rested her head against his chest. “I love you,” she whispered, before drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 38

  Andre

  For most of the night, Andre had lain awake, his mind a maelstrom of concerns. You look so peaceful. I don’t think you have a clue how much I truly love you. A small murmur came from her semi-parted, temptingly kissable lips as he tenderly brushed a few auburn strands of hair from her cheek. I’m doing this for all of us. For our future.

  Jennifer’s fingers twitched slightly as Andre captured her hand in his. Careful not to wake her, he lifted it from his belly and placed it to his heart. Content to have her by his side, he closed his eyes. You and Michael are all I’ve ever wanted—all I’ve ever need. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of you.

  During the wee hours of the morning, Andre had made up his mind. Nobody, not even Jennifer, was going to deter him. No matter the cost, he was going to put a stop to Rosalyn’s bullshit once and for all. The woman had no idea the wrath that was coming to her. Poor Michael had been her bargaining chip since before he was born. For the life of him, he’d never understood how a woman could use her own child as a pawn.

  Please don’t fight me on this, Blue Eyes. It’s the only way we’ll ever be free.

  Once Andre revealed everything to his lawyer, he’d be on the brink of losing it all—his dream job, his son, and the woman he loved. Jennifer had made him promise never to reveal the events that led to Michael’s conception. He hoped she’d forgive him for breaking his word. It had been the one condition she’d been adamant about when they’d finally gotten back together. Unlike his mother, you’ve always had my son’s best interests at heart. There’s no way to erase the past. No way Michael will ever be your biological son. I just need you to trust me on this because I’ll be damned if I allow Rosalyn to fuck with our happiness ever again.

  Jennifer

  “Rise and shine,” Andre whispered against Jennifer’s forehead about an hour after sunrise.

  Jennifer’s hand flew into the air, swatting at his stubbled cheek. “You need to shave,” she grumbled.

  “You’re cranky this morning, my little sleepy-do,” Andre teased, sounding annoyingly amused.

  “Five more minutes.” She grasped the sheet, tossing it above her head, and twisted away from him.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” His heavy arm snaked around Jennifer’s waist, hugging her flush to his chest.

  Barely audible, Jennifer’s demand was muffled, “Spoon me.”

  Andre chuckled. “I am.”

  “It’s Sunday. Aren’t you tired?”

  “Not with you lying all warm and naked beside me. I wanted to wake you up an hour ago. But you looked so peaceful.”

  “Then why are you waking me up now?”

  “Because of this.” Andre rocked his pelvis, rubbing his cock in the crevice between her buttocks. “And I told my mother I’d meet her at church for the 11:00 a.m. service.”

  “Have you been a bad boy, Andre Jenkins?” Instinctively, she pushed her buttocks hard against his groin and slowly began to rock her hips, swiveling her ass temptingly against Andre’s hard-on. “Plan to repent for your sins?”

  Andre moaned. “Keep that up, Blue Eyes, and I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”

  “All right, I’ll be a good girl,” Jennifer giggled from beneath the sheet. She closed her eyes, content in his arms. Semiconscious, she almost didn’t hear Andre when he told her she talked in her sleep.

  Oh my God!

  Jennifer’s eyes flew open. “What?”

  “Don’t sound so alarmed. It’s quite comical.” Andre chuckled, his callused fingertips lightly caressing her arm.

  Now wide awake, Jennifer lowered the sheet and twisted to face Andre. “What did I say?” she questioned, her pulse racing.

  He flashed a full-on, white-teeth smile and winked. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Oh shit. Did I say anything about the baby?

  “Andre, I’m serious. What did I say?” Jennifer asked, fumbling with the sheets as she righted herself into a seated position.

  Brows furrowed, Andre stared, dumbfounded.

  “Well?” Jennifer demanded.

  “Nothing of importance.” He pushed up onto his elbows. “Why are you suddenly acting so uptight?

  “I’m not.” Jennifer shrugged, trying not to look as defensive as she sounded.

  Andre slouched against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest and stared her down. “Honestly, Jenn. I know you’re keeping something from me. Something way bigger than needing some fucking vitamins. What the hell aren’t you telling me?”

  “Ugh.” Jennifer threw her hands up and shook her head. “I already told you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.” There’s no way in hell I’ll tell you about the baby while we’re arguing. “Would you feel better if I made up some horrible ailment?”

  Andre shot her a look of pure disgust. “Why the fuck would you say something so ridiculous? Do you really think so little of me?” Andre ripped the sheet from his waist and rose from the bed, the sight of his fine tight ass momentarily rendering her speechless. “I’m not a monster, Jenn.”

  “Hey, where are you going,” Jennifer asked, all color draining from her face.

  “Back to my apartment. I need to take a shower before I head out to church,” Andre said. Then he picked up his T-shirt and tugged it down over his shoulders. “You do know, Jenn, that I’m going to find out.”

  “Why don’t you shower here. In fact, I’ll shower with you,” Jennifer said, leaping from the mattress. “There’s nothing wrong with what you were wearing last night; you can wear it again this morning. There’s no reason not to.”

  “No. It’s not going to work.” He glared at her, fury blazing in his eyes. “You’re hell-bent on shutting me out. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Jennifer wrinkled her brow. “What? I’m not doing anything.”

  “You’re not trying to deter me with sex?” He cocked an eyebrow. Before she could answer he continued, “I’m not falling for it.”

  “Shit, Andre! I don’t understand what the big deal is. I only asked what I was saying. You’re acting irrational.”

  “I’m irrational?” Andre snorted. “No, Jenn. You’re withdrawing again. And look where that got us last time.”

  Terror rained down on her, her body trembling from Andre’s insinuation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know damn well what I mean.” Roughly, Andre tugged the zipper up on his jeans. “But let me put your mind at ease,” he said. “You were muttering something about chocolate ice cream and pickles in your sleep.”

  Jennifer released a forced laugh, trying to make light of the awkward situation. Not like this. Not now. It has to be special when I tell him. “Hmph. That’s different.”

  “Rosalyn isn’t the only reason we have issues.” Shoving his bare feet into his sneakers, Andre strode from the bedroom. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Maybe later you’ll be more amiable to talk,” he said over his shoulder and without another look, Andre bounded down the staircase, two at a time. Once he’d reached the bottom, he ripped his coat from the closet and threw open the front door, slamming it behind him.

  Chapter 39

  Andre

  Andre burst into his studio apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. He tossed his motorcycle jacket across a chair, his nostrils flaring as he recalled Jennifer’s wounded expression. What the fuck was wrong with him leaving her like that. He’d seen the vulnerability that flickered in those beautiful aqua eyes. He’d heard the frantic desperation in her plea for him not to leave. He could have easily called his mot
her, cancelled out of going to church. God knew he’d done it many a time before.

  All the tension—the stress of the last few days had finally gotten the better of him. Andre’s anger erupted into a rampage. Mad as hell, he realized Jennifer just might be right. Maybe he was acting irrational. How was he supposed to act? He was so damn tired. Sick to death of being tied up in knots with worry over Jennifer’s health and worn-out from trying to keep Rosalyn at bay.

  He stormed toward the corner of the room, slamming his fist into the punching bag that hung suspended from the ceiling. A guttural sound tore from his lips as pain ricocheted through his arm. What the fuck isn’t she telling me?

  His lips curved into a snarl. Andre balled up his fist and once again swung his ungloved hand into the bag, the loud smack upon impact music to his ears. The stinging sensation in his knuckles was a welcome punishment for abandoning her. Andre gritted his teeth, feeding off the natural high of the pain. I know better than to press Jenn. She’ll tell me whatever is bothering her in her own damn time.

  Bitterness consumed him. Caring little for the welfare of his bare knuckles, he pounded them continuously into the dull, red vinyl. One. Two. Three. The bag jerked back and forth from the brutality of his assault.

  Covered in sweat, Andre’s arms shook, burning as they ached. His knuckles raw and bloody, he still couldn’t stop punching. Over and over, he slammed his fists into the hard bag, grunting and groaning from the effort. Each smack of the bag taking the full force of his pent-up rage. He gritted his teeth and balled his torn-up knuckles into a fist. With every ounce of his strength, he swung his arm back and delivered one last uppercut against the vinyl. Andre’s legs buckled beneath him, his energy entirely zapped. He collapsed against the bag, winding his arms around it. His heart hammered as he struggled for breath.

  SWEAT POURED DOWN ANDRE’S back, every inch of his body sore and slick. His heartbeat accelerated at breakneck speed. Heavy and tight, the exertion of each strained inhalation hurt his chest. Lowering his forehead to the bag, he closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all, his heart rate decelerating slightly with each exhalation.

  A quick rap sounded at the door, startling him. Andre cracked an eye open, his abdominal muscles tightening as hope leapt in his stomach. Jenn?

  Wrenching his arms from around the punching bag, he drew in a deep breath. Fucking shit! He buckled over, feeling as if the air was being ripped from his lungs. Heart-stopping spasms stabbed through his lower back. Elbows locked, Andre’s arms trembled, threatening to crumble as he splayed his open palms across his thighs.

  Another, more urgent rap sounded at the door. Followed by three rapid-fire thuds.

  “I’m coming,” he called out. A sudden panic filled him as he realized she might leave. Andre softened his tone praying she’d come to give him another chance. “Hold up. I’ll be right there.”

  He shot a menacing glance at the lifeless bag, hating the inanimate object more and more by the minute. As if weighted by lead, Andre dragged his legs across the floor, his focus trained on putting one foot before the other, not the immense soreness that resulted from beating the bag.

  Relief poured through him as he squinted through the peephole. Thin rivers of blood trickled down to his fingernails, the slivers of cuts biting at his battered hands. Swiftly, he opened the door, anxious to see her. “Hey, Blue Eyes,” he said, stricken as he took in her disheveled appearance.

  Her auburn hair was twisted up atop her head in a messy bun, several stray pieces hanging loosely against her cheek. Dark circles shadowed her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Void of her usual expertly applied makeup and multiple earrings, she’d dressed in a pair of faded yoga pants, her curvaceous body hidden by an enormous oversized hooded sweatshirt. “You look like shit,” Jennifer informed him.

  “You look beautiful,” Andre said, opening the door wider and gesturing for her to step in.

  “Don’t lie.” Jennifer swept past him, stepping into the apartment.

  Andre fumbled to lock the dead bolt. “I never lie.”

  He heard her mutter under her breath, “Then why start now?”

  “Thought you said you didn’t know where my favorite Red Sox sweatshirt was?” he teased in a feeble attempt to break the tension.

  Jennifer shrugged. “Looks like you were wrong. You must have misheard me.”

  Andre’s lip twitched, amused by Jennifer’s adamant denial. “That’s your story and you’re sticking to it?”

  Jennifer raised her chin in defiance, reminding Andre of Michael when he was overtired and cranky. “Yup.”

  “It looks better on you anyway,” Andre said.

  Jennifer made a tsking sound. “Don’t placate me, Andre Jenkins.” As if she’d suddenly decided to take part in a game of Twister, she jutted her arms above her head, her torso squirming and twisting in several awkward positions as she yanked the sweatshirt over her head. “Here,” she snapped, hurling it at him.

  His reflexes fast, Andre effortlessly caught the sweatshirt before it could hit the floor. Balled up into his fist, he gripped the material against his thigh and studied her. “You might want to reconsider that. It’s drafty in here. You don’t want to catch a cold dressed in that flimsy T-shirt.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I’m an adult. I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” She had always been temperamental. A real spitfire. Sharp-tongued, Jennifer could wield an arsenal of smart-ass remarks that could make a sailor blush. But lately, her erratic behavior wasn’t indicative of the tough, hard-to-handle, street-smart woman he loved and admired.

  “Jenn,” Andre said, his voice cracking. He couldn’t care less if his plea made him appear weak and emasculated. His only concern was for her. “I’m dying here. I need for you to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Me?” Jennifer shoved her forefinger roughly to her chest. “Me?” she repeated. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Andre?”

  He took a step forward, his lips curving into a frown as Jennifer took a step backward. “Please. Don’t draw away from me.”

  “Why not? That’s what you did when you walked out on me.” Jennifer clenched her jaw, her voice rising. “You left, Andre. Not me. You!”

  “Call me an asshole—a jackass. I deserve every stupid-ass name in the book and then some.” Andre winced, a cramp seizing his calf muscle as he moved to step forward.

  Jennifer glared at him and spat, “What’s wrong with your leg?”

  “Just a cramp. I’ll live,” he breathed out through gritted teeth. “I was an idiot. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know that. And you should be mad as hell that I left.” Andre sucked in a breath, his leg muscle wrenching as he stepped forward to close the distance between them. “I need you to forgive me. Please. Because I’m so very sorry, Jenn,” he said, rolling one of the loose tendrils against her cheek between his fingers.

  Lips drawn into a thin, tight line, Jennifer averted her gaze. “Well, that’s just not fucking good enough,” she said, her voice cracking. “Not this time.”

  “I planned to come back. I just needed to clear my head—get my thoughts together first.”

  Jennifer’s focus shifted to his bloodied knuckles. “Does beating the shit out of a punching bag actually get your thoughts together?”

  “Believe it or not, it does.” He shrugged. “And I know that I acted like a prick and I’m sorry. I planned to go back to the condo and apologize as soon as I showered.”

  Jennifer peered up at him through dark lashes, her aqua eyes still striking in spite of their bloodshot appearance. Her lip quivered, her voice barely above a whisper, “How would I know that? You left me before.”

  Andre’s heart squeezed. “I’m so sorry,” he said, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I know I was a fool. But you have to know I’d never knowingly hurt you.”

  “But you did,” Jennifer wailed, her tears now streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks. Balling her hands into small, tight fists, she pounded the
m against Andre’s chest. “You promised,” she hiccupped. Over and over, she punched him. “You promised. You promised. You. Fucking. Promised,” she cried out, her voice having grown hoarse. Then she sagged feebly into his outstretched arms.

  “Shh.” Andre tucked her head beneath his chin, despising himself even more for having caused her tears. “Jenn,” he said, smoothing his hand up and down her back. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on with you. I’m worried about you.”

  Her words were muffled as she clung to him, but Andre could clearly hear her agitation. “I can’t tell you right now.”

  Don’t push, Andre reminded himself. “All right,” he consented. I’ll let it go—for now.

  “I should have been the one to make you look like that,” she sniffled, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Like what?’

  “All hot and sweaty.” Her breathy response was soft and sexy.

  Andre’s cock pulsed, swelling as Jennifer skimmed a long French-tipped fingernail down his abdomen. “You said I looked like shit.”

  “You do. But it looks good on you. In fact, you make looking as if you were in a street brawl very, very hot.”

  A broad smile covered his face. Now, this sounded like his woman. And he knew exactly what Jennifer was doing. Once again, she was trying to distract him with sex. Not that he was complaining. Andre chuckled, deciding to let it go for now, but if she truly thought he’d forget his worry for her, she couldn’t be more wrong. “Come with me,” Andre said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking a shower and if I remember correctly, you offered to take one with me earlier.”

  Chapter 40

  Jennifer

  Tingles danced and skipped over her belly as Andre gripped the edges of the T-shirt, rolling the soft cotton over her head. Her arms slapped down to her sides, the T-shirt falling to the floor.