Five Reasons To Go (The Risky Hearts Duet Book 2)

by Candace Knoebel

  I wasn’t sure why, but in that moment, Jessica’s face snuck into my mind. I cleared the tightness in my throat. Shifted before taking a long sip from my glass of vodka.

  Corinne turned in my arms. Her mouth hung open, curved at the sides. “You totally would, wouldn’t you?”

  I blinked to mask my admittance. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Her eyebrows drew together, a pause poised on her lips. Her gaze turned to the screen where it lingered. “It would be weird, don’t you think?”

  I nibbled on the thought like a decadent treat. Caught off guard that she’d even contemplate it. When I married her, I’d meant my vows. I loved her with everything I had. But… something was missing. Neither of us pushed the other for sex. We just settled into this routine of acceptance. Sometimes more friends than anything else.

  “Do you have any fantasies?”

  She shoved my arm. “Jack.” Laughter peppered from her lips.

  “I’m serious,” I said, rubbing my arm.

  Discomfort settled against her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “You could tell me, you know.”

  “I know.”

  I waited, wondering if she’d say something. Hoping it would lead to something else. The very thing pressing against the crotch of my pants. My palms slid along her slender shoulders, attempting to knead away the tension like dough. She loved this.

  Her head rolled to the side. “Mmm.”

  I swam in a thick sea of desire. Wanting to touch the sweet swell of her breasts. Needing to suck on them until she was pulsing and wet. Crazed longing took over my thoughts. I slid my fingers up the back of her neck. Twirled them in her hair, desperate to expose her neck where I could lick a slow, torturous trail.

  “Ouch!” She jerked away from me, rubbing the back of her head.

  “I’m sorry, babe.” I reached for her. “I just want you so bad. You didn’t like it?”

  Her eyes were narrowed slightly. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a yes or a no, Corinne.” Irritation spilled cold water over me. Why did everything have to happen so routinely? Why couldn’t she just go with it and see where it took us? I didn’t want rules when it came to sex. I was tired of the same thing all the time.

  Reaching for her glass, she topped it off, and then settled against my side. “Is that your fantasy? Rough sex?”

  Hope lit a spark on my lap. Maybe we could try again. “One of many. You?”

  There was a short pause as she sipped on her wine. “Owning my own storefront. That’s my fantasy.”

  I repressed a groan.

  I guessed sex was a no-go.

  Weeks after that night, there was an itch in the back of my mind that wouldn’t go away. Corinne had paused when we talked about the idea of a free pass. Maybe there was something about me that wasn’t giving her everything she needed. I tried to think of how I’d feel about her being with another man, but it was dulled by my own needs that had been left hanged to dry for too long.

  Maybe… Maybe I could bring it up. Just as an idea.

  I bought her chocolate covered strawberries and picked up a bottle of her favorite pinot on the way home. Drove around the block twice before I found the courage to pull into the driveaway.

  The conversation could only go one of two ways—great or horribly wrong, and I wasn’t sure which end was which.

  “Hey, you,” she said when I came through the front door. Her mouth dipped open when she noticed what was in my hand, followed by a strange look. “What are you up to?”

  I set the chocolates on the counter, and then sat on the stool across from her. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  Her smile was warm and unaware. “Okay.”

  Acid churned in my stomach. Confliction pressed like bricks against my chest.

  I tried to swallow past the cotton in my throat, but my mouth was too dry.

  This was a bad idea.

  “Jack?”

  Fuck. I cleared my throat, rubbing a hand through my hair. “Remember that movie we watched? The one about the free pass?”

  The change in her eyes was immediate. A shadow blowing in. “Yeah.”

  “You know how they realized things about themselves in the end? How it in some ways brought them closer?” I pulled at the lobe of my ear, a dull throb hammering at the back of my neck. “It was interesting, right? You seemed to like it. I thought it was funny…”

  I was rambling. I knew it. I just couldn’t stop. The more she stared at me, the more I began to doubt the idea. My thoughts were garbled, tripping over themselves, falling past my lips.

  “The main guy… he was funny, right? And I, uh, well, I know you like chocolates and wine, and I thought—”

  Her head crooked left and right in rapid succession. Hands flying up, quieting me. “Just spit it out, Jack.”

  “I want an open marriage.” The words shot out on their own, like a fired cannonball. They hit the wall of her chest, the imploding damage shattering around us.

  The moment the words slipped, I wished I could retract them. It was a stupid idea. A selfish one. Knots twisted tight in my gut as I waited for her to say something. Anything. Praying she’d say no, because I wasn’t sure I had the strength to.

  I reached across the counter for her hand. She was stiff as a board. Unmoving. Unbending.

  “Corinne?”

  Her lashes fluttered rapidly. “I… what?”

  Getting up, I moved to rush around the bar. Pulled her into my arms, kissing her forehead. “Nothing, babe. It was a stupid idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—”

  “You want an open marriage?”

  I waited for the betrayal in her voice, the serrated edge that would surely rip me apart, but that wasn’t what happened. Questions arose like weeds in her eyes.

  “Why?”

  My heart threw itself against my ribs. A murky, slushy feeling rocked inside my stomach as my brain tipped to the side. “I don’t… I don’t know. I didn’t think this through, Corinne.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No.”

  Her feet carried her a step back, her hands pressed against her temples. “I need time to think, Jack.”

  “You mean, you’re not going to say no?”

  “I’m not going to say anything. Not until I digest this.”

  “Don’t you want to talk about it? I want to know how you feel, Corinne. I didn’t expect to just come in and drop this on you without a conversation.”

  Her head shook. “I need space, Jack. Please.”

  I watched as she disappeared up the stairs.

  Bile pressed against the back of my throat. I felt it then, the intruder who broke into our relationship. The masked figure neither of us could point out. Maybe he’d been there all along. This unseen, unheard of problem hiding in the recesses of our marriage.

  But now, he’d stepped into the light. Feet away. Both of us waiting for the mask to be pulled off.

  It was a Saturday night. I was uptown, staying at a hotel for a convention that was in town. We decided it was best for me to stay so I wouldn’t have a ridiculous commute.

  “You watching the game tonight?” Garret asked as we headed out of the banquet hall.

  “You know it.”

  “Who are you betting on?”

  I paused, throwing him a look.

  A swelling chuckle erupted from him. “They never win, man. When you gonna move on?”

  “A loyal fan doesn’t quit.”

  His hand swiveled in the air. “Whatever you say.”

  I pulled out my phone and texted Corinne.

  We just finished the last of the seminars for today.

  Learn anything?

  Yeah.

  What are your plans for the rest of the night?

  I glanced around the lobby. I’ll probably hang around the bar and watch the game. You?

  Just going to watch my show, and then bed.

  I miss you. Though I knew she had things pla
nned for the weekend at home, I wished she had come with me. Just to get away.

  Same.

  I cleared my throat. Tucked away any idea of her coming up here. I guess text me later when you head to sleep. Love you.

  Love you too.

  After I pulled up Facebook, I shot a couple of messages to the guys I usually went out with. They weren’t always available. All had wives and children. Mindlessly, I scrolled through my feed, skimming over article after article until I stopped dead in my tracks.

  There she was… Jessica… her smile plastered front and center on an article like a hamburger dangling in front of a homeless man.

  My finger hovered over the link. The heading read: Local Ice Cream Shop Owner Gives Back by Donating to a Women’s Shelter.

  My pressed it, and then the article spread open across my screen. It talked about her shop, and about how she spent her spare time at a women’s shelter, donating ice cream and her services.

  There were pictures of her with her arms wrapped around different women, the light in her eyes competing with the sun behind them.

  At the end of the article, her contact information hovered tauntingly. The same email address she gave me. Anyone looking to join the small group of volunteers she formed could contact her. Free ice cream was a benefit.

  That coaxed a smirk from me.

  I chewed on the idea of emailing her. Guilt over knowing I was pulled to her clamped like angry fists at the back of my throat, and then slowly morphed into a full-blown fight between right and wrong.

  Why did it have to be wrong? So she was a female. A… highly attractive female… We could still be friends, right? What if I mentioned her to Corinne? I could have a female friend. I wouldn’t stop Corinne from having a male friend. We trusted each other.

  Besides, I’d never make the same mistake I made long ago.

  Resolution tipped its head in my direction. A green light pulsed in my heart.

  After I opened my email, I typed in her address.

  Subject: It’s Misery Man. Got a New Bet for You.

  Hey Jessica,

  It’s Jack, though I’m sure you’ve already figured that out. About that bet. I’m going for the same team. I can only guess you’ll go for the opposite. Want to wager a scoop of ice cream?

  If I win, I get a scoop from your shop.

  If you win, I’ll donate to that shelter you volunteer for.

  I don’t have much, but like you said… what you do is different. Feels different from what I do. Maybe I need a little more of that feeling in my life.

  J.

  An hour passed before I received a pinging sound on my phone. My stomach stirred when I realized it was from her.

  Jack,

  You got yourself a bet. Meet me at the bar tonight. Bring your checkbook.

  J.

  I grinned to myself, like a fool, and then closed the message. A second later, I pulled up Corinne’s messages.

  I’m going to meet up with a friend tonight, babe. Her name is—

  I stared at the screen. Acid churned in my stomach. My finger pressed the back key, black, inky shame spreading through my veins.

  Babe, I’m going out tonight. Text me later. Love you.

  I hit send before I could stop myself, and then put my phone back in my pock. Guilt-tinged thoughts sat like vultures in the corners of my mind. Pecking every so often. Waiting for the right moment to devour me.

  Shortly after seeing Jessica that night, I earned the promotion. After meeting my boss, Corinne and I were offered the chance to move uptown into a swanky apartment. I never brought up the open marriage again. Not until she came to me with rules.

  One day a week. Thursdays. We’d have the entire day to do whatever or whomever we please. Protection was a must. And, no matter what, we had to be back in bed by midnight.

  I was floored. A part of me was thrilled, the other ripped in half by the fact she had already been speaking to someone. When she found out I had met up with Jessica while I was at the convention, she assumed the worst and decided to try things out for herself.

  I’d never slept with Jessica.

  But now, I could.

  So why did it feel like a death trap?

  Chapter 3

  Jessica

  I never pictured myself in the arms of a married man. Then again, I never pictured myself in a loveless marriage either.

  After that first night at the bar, when I slipped my number in his wallet, I hadn’t expected to hear back from Jack. Truthfully, I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t like him, but because I did, and he was very married.

  When he reached out to me, months after, I hesitated to answer him. Though my situation allotted me the chance to be with others, I knew his didn’t.

  At least, I thought that was the case, until he told me about the open marriage his wife set rules to. We could meet on Thursdays. He had to be home by midnight. We agreed when together to not talk about our spouses.

  Jack asked me to meet him at the bar where we met for our first Thursday out. I ransacked my closet to find something suitable to wear. I tossed my pantsuit out. Then a skirt. The dress I liked to wear when I went dancing.

  It all felt either too formal, or too risqué, so I settled on a pair of worn-in jeans and a pink T-shirt with Converse.

  “What are you doing?” I asked my reflection. There was a hopeful curve to my eyes I’d never seen before, like the first budding sprout after a long, hard winter. The sun danced in my pupils. Raised roses in my cheeks.

  Ciana and Nic were in bed by the time I slipped out the front door. Hank was already in his room for the night. A storm waged in my stomach on the way to the bar. What if that chance encounter was just a fluke thing? The second time we met, I had really enjoyed his company, but I had also gotten drunk. What if things were different? What if he expected something I wasn’t ready to give?

  The questions stacked up into a heaping mass that fisted in my shoulders. I was about to ask the driver to take me home, when I noticed Jack standing near the front door, searching the line of cabs.

  He was taller than I remembered. A lean build with wheat-colored hair shorn close to his scalp. In a suit, he looked like gold. The perfect amount of muscles. A jawline for days. Even from afar, he was the kind of man who made a woman do a doubletake. Made her cheeks pink with smutty thoughts.

  In that moment, I realized I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to see where this thing led. Stepping out of the cab, I stole an inhale, then headed in his direction.

  A rapt smile stole across his lips when he noticed me. “You came.”

  I smoothed a hand through my hair, butterflies pinging through my stomach. A confused shyness hid behind my breastbone, out of place. Unwanted. “I wouldn’t miss a chance to win another bet.”

  His chuckle was warm and rich, like the slow spill of molasses. “That’s what she said.”

  My finger lifted toward him, humor spattered across my chest. “Ah… you.”

  “Shall we?”

  The robust churn of voices clashed against us the moment he slid the door open. He followed me to a booth at the far end where we tucked ourselves in, hoping for a little more privacy.

  “Jack and Coke?”

  “Please.”

  He wormed through the bodies filling up the small space, crammed like a herd of cows in a pen. Pushing against each other. The droning sounds of inebriated words a chaotic symphony.

  I reached for the small menu tucked between bottles of ketchup and salt and pepper shakers. My lips curled when my fingers stuck to the sides like glue, so I set it back down and turned my attention to the screen overhead. I already knew the team I’d go for.

  “It’s impossible tonight,” Jack said a moment later. Liquid sloshed over the rims when he set them down.

  “That bad?”

  His hands brushed against the sides of his pants. “It’s like a circus in here. Everyone and their mother decided to show up.”

  I raised my glass to his,
and then we took small sips.

  “So.” His hands cupped his glass. “What a weird way to meet again, huh?”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “Honestly… I almost didn’t come.”

  Relief swam within the sigh he let out. He settled against his seat, a hand smoothing through his hair. “You know… I kind of hoped you wouldn’t show.”

  His fingers drummed idly against the table. I tossed a prying thought around in my mind, and then decided to let it out. “So why the open marriage?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought she’d go for it.”

  His words were like an undead thing tossed on the table between us. Leeching on hope. Poisoning the moment. What if I was wrong about Jack? He never came on to me. Never made a pass. But… to ask his wife for something like an open marriage… what did that say about him?

  He must have picked up on my internal war, because he cleared his throat. “I love my wife very much.” His gaze drew back. “There was never a game plan going into any of this. One conversation led to another, and then the idea was put out there. When she came to me and told me she had been talking to someone also, I didn’t know how to feel.” He shifted, reaching for a sugar packet. “Actually, I felt stunned. Obviously jealous. She said nothing happened. It was just a conversation, and I trust her enough to know she was telling the truth.” He twisted the sugar packet between his fingers. “She knew about you. Saw that last email you sent me.”

  My hands sought my mouth. “Oh no! She must have—”

  He put his hand up. “I told her nothing happened. I told her it could have, but we didn’t.”

  “Jack, I was drunk. I didn’t mean to—”

  A smirk lifted at the corner of his mouth. “Please, for my ego, don’t finish.”