Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “It’s true. Does that freak you out?” I asked, getting up on my elbows. With the loss of his heat, I shivered.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, returning over me, tucking each of my limbs into his body. I couldn’t quite gauge his reaction until a huge smile crossed his face. It broke only long enough for him to kiss me quickly on the lips. “No, actually, I can’t believe it,” he said. “How is that possible?”

  I faltered, wondering how to even explain it. “I’ve never been able to get there with a partner. I always assumed Bill and I would, but he stopped trying after a while. I don’t blame him. The harder he worked, the less turned on I became. I’d just take care of myself later. I could never fully . . .” Let go. I took a breath. I kept that confession to myself, since it seemed unfair to Bill. “So I might be on another planet right now.”

  David kissed the base of my neck more times than I could count.

  “I guess it helps that this has been building between us for almost two months,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah?” He glanced up at me. “Then how do you explain the second one?”

  I smiled shyly, and his expression sobered. “You have no idea what that means to me,” he said, his lips brushing the hollow of my neck.

  “It means you’re an experienced lover,” I joked, even though I knew it wasn’t the entire reason. I had blossomed for him. Beneath him, surrounded by him, we existed in our own world.

  “No.” He sighed, exhaling against my neck. “It’s different.” His voice was so soft, that I had to strain to hear.

  Is it different for you, too, David?

  I wanted to ask, but I just enjoyed the feeling of his lips, his breath, him, on my body. For all my fears around David, I was somehow safe here.

  He lifted his head, a mischievous look playing over his face. He ground his hips against me softly, alerting me that he was hard again. “Getting your first orgasm might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  I squealed. “David.”

  He laughed, and it was such a playful, wonderful sound that I couldn’t help but join him.

  “I mean it. You’re gorgeous. When you’re my girl, I’ll have you coming every chance I get.”

  My laugh melted as reality threatened to creep in, but my mouth watered at his words. When I was his? How could he believe that would happen?

  I didn’t get a chance to wonder long. He slid down my body and nuzzled my breasts, sighing into them, his facial hair scraping against my skin. “You’re incredible, Olivia. I don’t ever want to hear you say you’re empty.”

  I didn’t want to think about that, or I worried I’d break down again. “I’m thoroughly worked over, is what I am.”

  His golden-brown gaze found mine. “You know, when I looked into your eyes at the theater, I was stunned. Nothing like that has ever happened to me. And when I saw you in that gold dress at the restaurant, I knew you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. You were glowing. But right now, in my bed, naked and undone . . .” He leaned forward to kiss me softly on the lips. “You are perfect. I never want you any other way.”

  I ran my hand over his cheek and through his hair. It hurt that I couldn’t respond the way I wanted, so I just touched him, memorizing with my fingers.

  His gigantic hands splayed over my ribcage. “So smooth,” he said, moving his fingers over my skin.

  Everything is smooth in the dark.

  My body jolted when his index finger ran over my scar. “Except for this,” he said. “What is it?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, thankful for the night to hide whatever reaction might give me away.

  Why is he asking? Who cares what it is?

  I balled the sheets in my fist. I had to relax. It was a simple question, and he’d drop it if I asked him to; he didn’t mean anything by it. But my heart pounded.

  David leaned closer and examined it. “What’s it from?”

  “Haven’t we covered enough for one night?” I asked, half-joking.

  His silence was response enough.

  I sighed and pushed his hand away. “It’s ugly, and I don’t like talking about it.”

  “Does it have to do with your panic attack a few minutes ago?”

  “It wasn’t a panic attack,” I said. “I was overwhelmed. I’m f—” I stopped myself from using the word fine so David wouldn’t start another argument over it. “I’m all good.”

  “You’re not. You were hurting just now. Tell me what overwhelmed you,” he said, unaffected by my brush-off—a tactic that often worked with Bill.

  “I don’t want to lie to you,” I said, but even I heard the defeat in my voice. “So please don’t make me.”

  He laughed softly and buried his nose in my chest, placing a feather-light kiss between my breasts. “Don’t lie. I’m not easily scared off.” Suddenly, his body weighed on me, his breath on my skin seeming to hit an exposed nerve with every exhale. I must have moved, because he said, “Stop. Don’t pull away. Tell me what’s going through your head.”

  Despite the fact that the scar would forever be linked to my mother, in that moment, it was Davena’s memory that made my chest stutter.

  I hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Gretchen or Lucy yet—I’d barely even spoken to Bill about Davena’s death. Could I really share my grief with David?

  I sighed and looked out the bedroom window. I could. I could tell David everything—that was the problem. I could tell him, knowing he would somehow take some of that pain, shoulder it, and comfort me.

  “A family friend passed away last night,” I said. “I found out this morning while we were at the station.”

  David stilled beside me. “I’m sorry. I had no idea—you seemed . . . I didn’t realize that was what had upset you.”

  I nodded. “It was cancer.”

  “And you were close?”

  A lump formed in the back of my throat. I kept my face turned away. “She’s been there for me in ways my mother hasn’t,” I said, my voice hitching.

  “Ah.” David ran the pad of his thumb along my jawline. “I gather your relationship with your mom is strained.”

  I returned my eyes to his. I was right. There was nothing in his expression but comfort and understanding. And an invitation to tell him anything on my mind without judgment.

  “She accidentally stabbed me when I was younger.”

  His jaw clicked as he jutted it to one side. “Your mom?”

  It felt ridiculous to say out loud. I hadn’t had to talk about it in much detail since that night at the hospital sixteen years ago.

  All that blood.

  “My parents fought a lot, but never more than the year leading up to their divorce,” I explained. “One night, she pulled a knife. My dad had come home late from the office. I was used to being woken up by their arguments, but this one was especially bad.”

  “What was it about?” David asked.

  “Gina.”

  “Gina?”

  “A client of his. They’d fought over her before.”

  “If you’re using her name all these years later,” David said, “then I’m guessing your mom was right to be upset about her.”

  I shook my head. “My dad wasn’t a cheater,” I said. “Gina eventually became his second wife, yes, but nothing happened between them until after the divorce.”

  David shifted. “I see. What happened?”

  “That’s it. I was spying on the fight. When the knife came out, I freaked and ran between them. It was an accident, what she did, but it didn’t matter.”

  With the words out of my mouth, I no longer felt cornered. David’s body changed from a trap to a shield. I glided a hand over his smooth upper back. I’d said it aloud, and the world hadn’t come crashing down.

  “Then what?” he asked.

  Again with the questions.

  “You ask a lot of questions.” I moved my hand to his hair, letting the silky strands sprout from between my fingers. “Why? Are you going to rescue me from my past, David?
”

  He pecked me on the lips softly, lingering there. Slowly, he caressed my tongue with his while running his knuckle along my jawline.

  “You’re hard,” I whispered into his mouth. He nodded almost imperceptibly. He weighed heavy on me and I took it, wanting nothing more than to stay securely underneath him as long as he would let me.

  When the kiss grew more urgent, he tore away from me. “I’m getting distracted. What’s the rest of the story?”

  “Hmm?” I asked sleepily. I opened my eyes, wondering if I could convince him to keep kissing me. “The rest? Screaming. Blood. Hospital. Really, that’s all the detail I care to remember. I hate hospitals. Blood scares me blind.”

  “That’s why you were in shock after Mark’s attack,” he said.

  I nodded. “The knife and the blood—it took me back to those moments.”

  He swallowed. “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Fuck. Does it hurt?”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “No, of course not.”

  “You flinch when I touch it.”

  “A reflex, I guess. I can’t control it.” The room quieted, the only sound a pair of mirrored breaths.

  “Protecting you from your own mother,” he murmured finally. “I don’t know anyone who could do that.”

  “It was a long time ago. It never happened again. My dad left her the next day, and we started over without her. She never got over it. She thinks we abandoned her.”

  David’s brows furrowed as my words trailed off. “What is it?”

  “Nothing, it’s just weird to talk about this in any depth. I haven’t in so long. Not since it happened.”

  “How? What about . . .?” He hesitated. “What about with Bill?”

  I let my eyes roam David’s face. That might’ve been the first time I’d heard David acknowledge him by something other than “your husband” and sneer.

  “Now you can say his name?” I said with a laugh, which promptly turned into a yawn. “No, you’re right. I forgot. Of course I told Bill.”

  I closed my eyes, half-giving in to sleep, half-feigning it so David wouldn’t see the truth. I’d just confessed one of my most personal, formative experiences to him—something I hadn’t even shared with Bill. How could I admit that without scaring David? Without confirming his earlier accusations that my friends, family, and husband all let me get away with fine?

  How would he react knowing I’d avoided this topic with Bill for our entire marriage, only to open up for David within a single night?

  27

  I awoke with puffy eyes, soft, unfamiliar sheets under my skin, and raw stickiness between my legs. Hard, strong arms clutched me from behind, locking me to a strange body.

  A body that had trapped and devoured and owned me the night before. That had both pushed me to my limits and cushioned me with the warmth and safety I’d needed to give David everything. Guilt flowered as I remembered what I’d done, but my muscles clenched at the memory of all that’d been done to me.

  David stirred. He lifted my hair and touched his lips to the curve of my neck, causing my eyes to flutter shut and a moan to escape.

  “Perfect,” he whispered into my skin.

  At the deep voice that I was already coming to know too intimately, my body tensed. My eyes flew open. The dark had lifted and in the cruel sunlight, all that lay there was the truth.

  I lifted myself up on unsteady arms, carefully avoiding David’s always-penetrating stare. We couldn’t have slept more than a few hours. I glanced around a sprawling white bedroom with colorful art that I was too unsettled to really take in. Sleek, black pendants hung from the ceiling on each side of the bed. A wall of gray-shaded stone framed the headboard.

  My eyes stung with lack of sleep as I focused on the bedside clock. Only six in the morning.

  Bill’s plane would land in less than twelve hours.

  “I have to leave.” It came out harsher than I’d intended, but all I could think was that I’d have to face my husband tonight. That, and how every fiber of my being wanted to ignore that fact and curl up next to David. I didn’t know how I’d be able to leave him knowing I shouldn’t—couldn’t—ever see him again.

  I finally let myself look at him. He’d pulled the crisp white sheets up to his muscled stomach, and his head rested back against his arm as he watched me. My matted hair fell over my shoulder, and I imagined that mascara had smeared around my eyes. Meanwhile, he looked perfectly unaffected—and just plain perfect.

  “Stay,” he said, no pleading, just flat. If I allowed myself to give in even a little, my worries, my fears, my inhibitions would melt away under his gaze. I would melt away.

  But this no longer felt adventurous or sexy. It just felt wrong. A dull pain throbbed behind my eyes as I looked for something to cover myself.

  David got up and pulled on the same disarming gray sweatpants he had the other night. His sinuous, robust muscles were even more apparent in the daylight. It took every shred of my willpower not to drag him back to bed.

  He gathered up the top sheet and offered it to me. I stood, wrapping myself in it as we stared at each other from across the bed. I might’ve expected the electricity between us to diminish now that we’d given in to it, but if anything, it intensified as my body recalled the night before. I longed to submit myself to him again, to feel the weight of him on top of me. I knew without words that he felt the same—by the way he looked at me, and by his twitching but restrained erection.

  God, those fucking gray sweatpants hung low and left little to the imagination.

  “Can I clean myself up?” I asked, shifting on my feet.

  He nodded.

  In the sunlit bathroom, I shut the door behind me. It was just as beautiful and immaculate as the bedroom, with a rock and glass shower that overlooked Lake Michigan.

  I sat on the toilet and ran my hands over my face. I’d actually gone through with it. I’d broken my vows. I’d betrayed Bill’s trust. And if I kept this from him, I would lie to his face tonight.

  Did David normally let his one-night stands spend the night?

  Why was I even thinking about that?

  It didn’t matter. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, and so had I. It was a moment I’d furtively fantasized about, yet my daydreams were nothing compared to the reality of his skin on mine, his length stretching and filling me. The reality of him working my body as if he owned it.

  I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw white.

  No.

  I’d done so much more than acted out a fantasy. I had a husband and a life to answer to. What had I done? Something profoundly wrong. Something bigger than myself. Something that could never be undone.

  As I washed my hands, I stole a quick glance at my reflection. I was right about my smeared makeup and tangled hair. The bruise on my face had ripened. Did I look different? How did adulterers look? Would a scarlet “A” brand my skin?

  I wiped the smudges from under my eyes and raked a hand through my hair, starting at the roots. My fingers stuck on several tangles that’d formed from dried sweat. I needed a brush if I was going to fix this. I did the best I could, but it was useless trying to scrub this moment clean.

  Wrapped back in the sheet, I opened the door and leaned against the jamb.

  David waited on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees. “I preferred the bedhead,” he said, jutting his chin at me.

  I shook my head. “Left to its own devices, my hair would put me in an early grave. It doesn’t know how to cooperate.”

  “Well, I like you that way. Disheveled.”

  “David.” It was part scolding, part plea. He shouldn’t like me any way. He should keep his mouth shut and not make this more difficult.

  “Olivia.” No scolding.

  “Last night was . . .” I let the sentence hang, wrapping the sheet more tightly under my arms.

  “It was,” he said, nodding slowly. “I meant what I said.”


  “About my hair?” I joked.

  “No.”

  “Then what exactly?”

  “Everything. That I want you for myself. That my feelings for you are real. That you’re incredible.” The crease in his brow offset his tousled, inky hair. “I want more. I want it all. I said as much last night, and I brought you here thinking we were on the same page.”

  My mind raced. The same page? A lot of things had been said—and done—in the heat of the moment. But he must’ve known this couldn’t be anything more than a mistake I’d live with through every milestone of my marriage.

  David’s and my connection had only intensified once we’d given in to it, yes. There was no denying our passion—or even that real feelings existed. But did he actually expect me to leave my husband based on one night?

  “And I meant what I said. I’m not right for you,” I said. “I’m, I don’t know . . . broken. And married. Last night shouldn’t have happened, but it did. We have to leave it at that. Trust me when I say, there’s no other way.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then whipped them open. “You’re broken?” he asked with a look of disgust. “And you have nothing to give? How the fuck can you say that to me after everything you just showed me?”

  “I understand. Being with you was . . .” My voice hitched as I tried to find the words. “A release, and I don’t just mean sexually. I needed it. It opened my eyes to the fact that maybe I can start to heal wounds I thought would never close. But that doesn’t change the fact that I belong to someone else.”

  “He doesn’t heal those wounds. He probably doesn’t even know they exist.” David stood from the bed. “And you’re going to tell me—”

  “Don’t.” I held up my hands, stepping back.

  As his eyes shuttered, and his expression closed, my heart dropped. David had been open about what he’d wanted from the start, but how could he possibly know the extent of what he asked for? He didn’t. With his revolving door of women, he couldn’t. He only wanted what he couldn’t have. And maybe that would work for a while, but eventually he’d see the truth—I couldn’t break up my marriage for a player, even if it was the best sex of my life.