No phones ringing, copies buzzing, people milling around the break room. No fighting for the last of the coffee in the pot before a new one has to be made, no Marianne talking a little too loudly about her date the night prior, and most certainly no Jordan. Walking to my office, actually able to hear the clicking of my heels against the marble floor, I push my way through the door and turn on the light.
Sitting behind the desk, I power up the computer, ready to get my day underway. While all the programs load, I walk down to the break room to start that first wonderful pot of coffee for the day. Stepping into the already lit room, I measure out the appropriate amount of grounds—adding a little more because it’s how I like it—and dump water in the back. I rest against the counter and revel in the subtle sound of the coffeemaker coming to life.
Briefly closing my eyes, the silence lulling me to sleep, I nearly knock over the coffee pot when a large, strong hand comes down on my shoulder. My eyes open only to see Jordan’s staring back at me.
“Dreaming about me?” he mutters, scooting me to the side to pour himself a cup of coffee. Catching my breath and willing my heart to stop racing, I find it hard to form words. God, I really hope I can’t speak because he’s scared the hell out of me and not because I forgot how beautiful he looks in the morning. His hair still wet from a rushed shower, tie hanging loosely around his neck waiting for him to tie it, the slightest hint of cologne or maybe soap and the mint from his toothpaste begging me to get a taste.
“Christ, Loren, get it together,” I chastise myself, smoothing out my blouse and wiping my hands on my skirt. The way I’m acting, you’d think it’s been forever since I had sex. Hell, who am I kidding? I miss orgasms. Shit, do I miss them.
“So, what are you doing in so early?” Jordan asks, bringing the brim of the cup to his parted lips, leaning against the counter and crossing his feet at the ankles.
“Figured I’d get an early start so I don’t have to stay late,” I lie, moving in to get myself some coffee, my body aware of his presence. It’s like she knows exactly who he is and the kind of skills she’s been missing all this time.
When he blows the steam inside his cup, my stomach clenches remembering how he’d tease me, make me beg for him to put his mouth back on my most sensitive spots and bring me to the brink time and time again. His eyes peruse my body, slowly raking them from top to bottom, reminding me of how he’d look at me when I put on a new piece of lingerie. Jordan’s fingers brush back his unruly locks while my own digits ball into fists at my side so I don’t reach out, grab his hair and kiss him like I’ll never kiss him again.
I need to get the hell out of this room. The walls are closing in on me and I can’t go there, not right now, anyway. Not until I figure out what I’m doing about my situation. Nolan or Jordan? Jordan or Nolan? If this were any kind of fair world, I’d have both. Selfish, I know, but a girl can dream, right?
“I better get to work if I’m going to salvage my evening,” I say, slipping out of the room, all but running back to my office.
“Hey. Wait up,” Jordan calls after me. Pretending to not hear him, my heels move faster over the marble.
“Loren?” Stopping just outside my office, I realize I can’t run from him. Not in the office, anyway. It would be better to talk to him in the hallway versus inside my office. Turning around, he’s closer than I thought, my mug bumping into his chest and the contents going all over the front of his shirt.
“Shit,” I mutter. Frantically, Jordan pulls the buttons loose on his shirt, whispering obscenities while he strips. Right here. He’s taking off his soiled shirt. Holy shit. I can’t …
“Watch out,” he barks, pushing inside my office and dropping the stained white shirt on the chair in front of my desk. He looks down, inspecting himself for burns.
“I’m sorry. That was just really fucking hot. Had I known you were going to douse me with scalding hot coffee, I would have waited to talk to you later,” he jokes, or at least attempts to joke.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t know you were literally right there.” I reach my hand out to inspect his stomach myself, but the shuffling of feet in the lobby startles me. For everything that’s holy, I can’t let anyone see Jordan half naked in my office when we were the only ones here. Sure, most of the office knows we were together once upon a time, but very few know he’s actually my husband—a request Mr. Fletcher made when he heard our news, worried I’d be judged for being married to the step-son of the CEO.
“Do you have another shirt in your office?” I whisper, shutting my door and locking the handle.
“I always have a backup. Obviously I can’t go get it, though.”
“No shit!” I sarcastically yell a little too loud. Putting my hand over my mouth, I nod my head and flee my office, shutting the door behind me again.
From one end of the building to the other, I retrieve the backup shirt and step back into my office just as Mr. Fletcher is rounding the corner. “Loren, can I have a word with you, please?”
“Sure, Mr. Fletcher. I’ll be down there in five minutes. I just need to wrap something up really quick,” I say, attempting to hide my panic. If this isn’t a recipe for a sexual harassment lawsuit, I’m not sure what is.
“It’ll only take a second, and it’s a personal discussion.” Having no choice but to let Mr. Fletcher into my office, I open the door and toss the shirt at Jordan who quickly shrugs into it, but hasn’t started the buttons when Mr. Fletcher crosses the threshold.
“Do I even want to know?” Mr. Fletcher asks, using his hand to cover a knowing smirk.
“I spilled coffee on him,” I blurt out, walking around the desk and slinking in my chair. Both men chuckle softly. Jordan pats Patrick on the back as he walks out, shaking his head.
“Let’s keep the office nudity to a minimum,” Patrick teases, standing in the corner, not bothering to take a seat. Blushing ten shades of pink, I raise my head enough to see the joyful expression on Mr. Fletcher’s face. It’s no surprise that he would love if Jordan and I were able to rekindle our relationship.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“We’re having a barbeque, not this weekend, but next. I’d love if you could come. Bring that potato salad we all love.”
“Sure,” I offer, wanting him to leave so I can die alone of my embarrassment.
“Wonderful,” he clasps his hands together. “Jordan will be thrilled. That boy still has it bad for you, my dear.”
I nod my head, not wanting to give away that I still have it pretty bad for him, too. Not until I figure out my own head. Not until I know I won’t hurt anyone any worse than I have to.
Once Mr. Fletcher leaves my office, I’m able to get to work. I don’t bother breaking for lunch, knowing that if I keep up this pace, I might actually be able to leave early. At four thirty, I’ve successfully finished everything I had to get done today and enough for tomorrow to give me a light day. Thankfully, Jordan keeps his distance, staying in his end of the office.
As I’m driving down the road, nearly home, my text message notification goes off. Glancing down at the phone, Jordan’s name illuminates on the screen. When I pull into the driveway, I open the message.
Jordan – Dinner tonight?
Me – I need some time.
Jordan – An hour?
Me – No. Like real space.
Jordan – As you wish, my wife.
Chapter Three
Nolan
After hanging up with Loren, I opt for a quick shower before climbing into the bed situated in the guest room Wendy’s mom set up for me. It’s weird being back here. Another lifetime ago, this room might as well have been considered mine; Wendy’s parents never allowed us to share a bed until we were married. Countless nights I would stay over, sleeping here with only a wall separating us. Remembering those happy memories has me forgoing the sleep my body craves and sneaking next door to Wendy’s room.
“Knock, knock,” I announce as I step over the thresho
ld.
“Hey,” Wendy whispers, glancing toward her nurse who’s asleep in the same chair she was when I left her.
“I don’t know what to say, Wen. This is really weird.”
“Who are you telling? One day I was fine and then poof they tell me I’m dying. Weird is a pretty good word,” she jokes, coughing as the last few words come from her lips. Reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand, Wendy’s hand comes down on my forearm, stopping me. “I’m fine. Please don’t try to take care of me, too.”
“I’m here to help.”
“No, you’re here to remind me of the excellent life I had. You’re here to give me some fight. You’re here to keep me from giving up. I didn’t want her to call you, but you know my mom,” she says, smiling.
“Okay, so this is me not taking care of you.” Sitting in the chair on the side of her bed, I kick my feet up on the edge of the thin mattress.
“So, what have you been up to? Seeing anyone?” Wendy asks nonchalantly.
“I’ve been good. Still coaching and playing with the band. I’m sure Mikey will wanna come see you.”
“And …” she leads, wanting me to answer her last question. I’m not sure if I should or shouldn’t. I don’t know enough about her condition yet and if this could upset her. The last thing I want to do is make her feel any worse than she already does.
“And I see lots of people. Saw your ma earlier. The guys a few hours ago. Your nurse over there, I see her, too.”
“You know what I’m asking. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” Easy enough. It’s not exactly a lie since Loren and I really aren’t exclusively dating or anything.
“Any prospects?” Damn, this girl just won’t quit.
“I did meet a girl. Went on a few dates. She’s nice.” I rip off the bandaid and watch the machine measuring Wendy’s blood pressure for any indication I’m upsetting her.
“What’s her name?” she asks softly. Not sad, yet not happy. Just like a friend would ask when genuinely interested in the places your life’s going.
“Her name’s Loren,” I respond, trying to hide my smile, but every time I mention her name I can’t help but get a little excited.
“I bet she’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, she’s easy on the eyes. You’d like her.”
“I’m pretty sure I would. Could you bring her up here? So I can meet her?” she asks and I’m taken aback, lost for words.
“What on earth would you want to meet her for? Isn’t this a little weird?”
“I don’t think so,” she answers confidently, “I’d like to know the girl who’s going to come after me. I’ve known you a long time, Nolan, and you’re pretty easy to read. You got that cheesy little grin when you said her name. That used to be my cheesy little grin. So, to me, it’s pretty obvious you’re really into this girl. Since I won’t be around that much longer, I’d like to make sure my guy is in good hands.”
“Nobody could ever take your place.” I brush away the tears starting to form behind my lashes, hoping she doesn’t see I’m about ready to break. It’s one thing to divorce because we’re not right for each other anymore, but to lose her completely, it’s terrifying. I’ve known her all my damn life, pretty much.
“Alright!” Wendy says a little too loud causing her nurse to stir in her chair but not wake. Clapping her hands together softly, she lowers her voice, “I’m hoping you brought your guitar. Sing me a song? My song?”
“It’s in the car. Give me five.”
“You’re down to four minutes and fifty seven seconds. You better hurry. I’m still not a patient person,” she jokes and I take that as my cue to rush out of her room and down to my car.
In the brisk night air, I bend at the waist, hands on my knees, sucking in as much oxygen as my body can handle. I can barely make it through a casual conversation with Wendy, how the hell am I supposed to make it through a song? Let alone her favorite song? This is going to be pure hell.
Suck it up. She’s dying. She wants to hear you play. Who knows how long she has left and if this is the one thing you can do to make her forget for just a minute? You get over yourself and do it for her. For Wendy.
Stopping just outside her bedroom door, trying to catch my breath one more time, I hear her whispering to someone, presumably her nurse.
“Please go downstairs and get something to eat. Nolan’ll be back and he’ll call you if something happens. I just want some alone time with him.”
“That boy’s gonna break your heart, baby girl.”
“You can’t break something that’s already broken. Please, just give me some time with him.”
Knocking softly on the door, I announce my presence. The nurse eyes me from her chair, nodding her head and breezing past me toward the stairs. Sitting in the same place I was earlier, I prop my guitar on my knee and strum a few chords.
“You ready?” I ask, not even sure that I am.
“Born ready.” Wendy’s weak smile still brightens any room she’s in. So damn brave and courageous, she’s not complained one time since I’ve been here.
Making sure I’m in the right key, I clear my throat and begin to play the opening bars of Wanted by Boyce Avenue. My voice cracks on the opening lyric, every word about not knowing what to do without you making absolute perfect sense in this instance. Pushing aside my own feelings, I close my eyes and let my fingers guide me through the song. After the first chorus, I risk opening my lids and taking a peek at Wendy. Her head’s rested back on her pillows, her fingers plucking invisible strings, her lips mouthing every word I sing.
I thought that each and every feeling I had for Wendy when we were younger had disappeared somewhere down the line, but every word passing from my lips hits closer and closer to home. Setting my guitar next to the bed, Wendy’s eyes open and she stops singing, until I take her dainty hand in both of mine. I look into her eyes and finish the song, including the line about her always being wanted.
With my past creeping up on me, I can understand the feelings Loren’s having for her husband. I can sympathize. As wrong as Wendy and I were for each other when we divorced, right here, in this moment, I can’t help but believe I’m exactly where I belong.
Loving her until death do us part.
Chapter Four
Loren
Knowing Nolan’s coming in tonight for his audition for Joel, I found it difficult to get any kind of good rest through the night, so when the opportunity arises for me to take a nap, I jump on it. Picking up my e-reader, I open the book I’ve been reading when I have a little extra time and decide to read until I fall asleep. After only a few steamy pages of Falling for my Husband by Pamela Ann—fitting, I know—my eyes get heavy and I set aside the device and allow sleep to finally take me.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Jordan growls in my ear while he desperately claws at my clothes, removing each item one by one.
“Mmmmm,” I moan, unable to form a coherent sentence as Jordan’s mouth finds my finally exposed breast, his tongue swirling expertly across my nipple.
The moment all my clothes are removed and Jordan’s are piled on top of mine on the floor, I push him back on the bed, my lips kissing a path up his neck, around his jaw line and finally finding his mouth. With our tongues wrestling for control, I effectively work myself into a frenzy, needing so much more than this passionate embrace. Sliding my sensitive flesh across his erection, I reach a hand between us and align his cock at my entrance. Using my weight to push down, Jordan’s eyes glaze over with lust as he finds purchase deep within me. Crying out, having not had sex in so long, my body urges me to move. Gliding up and then back down, my pace picks up. Leaning down to kiss Jordan, his trusts meet mine, giving me everything I need in this exact moment.
Low in my belly, the most amazing sensation starts, slowly building and expanding the length of my body. “Oh my God,” I cry, my orgasm taking control.
“Stay with me, baby. It’ll only be
uncomfortable for a minute,” Jordan whispers, claiming my mouth.
“What are you talking about? This is incredible,” I ask, confusion mixing with the indescribable pleasure.
“Fuck, you look so damn gorgeous right now,” Nolan growls, his hand coming down on my hip, the other applying something wet to my backside.
Wait. Nolan? Where did he come from?
Glancing backward, his brilliant blue eyes sparkle with something I’ve never seen in them before. Desire? Possibly. Regardless of what they look like, he redirects his gaze to me, his signature smirk and dimples present. Grasping his length, he places the tip at my other entrance.
“Hold on, darlin’. We’ve got you,” Nolan says just before pushing inside the tighter hole. My first response is to leap off the bed and run as far away as I can from these assholes. But then, the sensation … oh God, the sensation. The moment my body recovers from the foreign feeling, I feel like I’m soaring through the air, one orgasm crashing into the next.
“Holy … Fuck … Jordan … Nolan … I don’t even know,” I moan, one hand planted on Jordan’s chest, the other wrapping around my back to grab onto Nolan’s leg. The two men working in tandem to bring me so much pleasure, I can’t even stand it. It’s painful. It’s sensational. It’s awkward. It’s fucking perfect.
“Why choose when you can have us both?” Jordan groans, his lower half stilling and going rigid.
“We promise to take care of you if you’ll have us,” Nolan says, his fingertips digging into my hips just as he finishes as well.
“Yes. I’ll have you. This is wonderful. Yes. Yes. Yes,” I scream, the orgasms continuing to drown me in their intoxicating presence.
“Loren. Loren!”
“Oh God, yes.”
“Dammit, Loren. Wake up. Wake the fuck up,” Cleo screams, shaking my shoulders.
Claim 3: Volume Three Page 2