Her fingers graze my chin as she gently turns my face back to her. “Jon, I’m not keeping it from you for any other reason than to protect you.”
I fight myself to look unaffected by her sorrow. She needs someone and for whatever reason, she showed up at Mase’s house tonight, even though she’s in a relationship with another man. My stomach leaps and sinks at the prospect this has to do with Nate. If she broke things off, that means she’s single, but if he hurt her. My blood burns through my veins at any thought of someone causing her harm.
“Where’s Nate? Why did you show up at Mase’s and not contact him instead?”
Her lower lip wobbles as she tries to control her emotions. “I couldn’t call him. We’re not together anymore.”
“Is he causing problems with your job?” I can sense it’s worse than that, but I don’t want to seem like I’m jumping to conclusions.
“I haven’t been to work. Can we go back to my place? Kiley is staying with Reagan tonight.”
I take her request as my cue to get my shit in check. When we get back to her house, I’ll have to join her inside since we’re in her car. There’s no doubt she needs the company. I don’t know what it means that I’m the one here with her. I know I volunteered to come help her search for Kiley, but it feels like more than that.
We park in front of her house and I turn off the ignition. “Here ya go.”
She takes her keys from my grasp and we enter her home. All the lights are on and the TV plays quietly in the living room. She must have left without any other thought than finding her daughter. She dumps her keys next to her purse on a table.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asks, as she walks to the kitchen.
I follow behind her and prop myself against the counter as she busies herself without making eye contact with me. It’s weird being in her house, but I’m proud to see what she’s accomplished on her own.
Cabinet doors open and shut. She places a teakettle on the stove. I just watch her amongst her things. I like seeing her in a place she’s familiar with. It takes me back to when we would spend time in her room, the only area in her house that she found solace in. She’s comfortable here, even though the stresses of this past week have her high-strung.
She grabs a dishrag as the kettle heats up, and she hasn’t even acknowledged my lack of response about a drink. She’s lost to her own thoughts, and I know the feeling, but tonight her silence screams louder to me than any words could.
Walking up behind her, I grab her wrist to stop her from scrubbing the already clean counter. On the way over here, I got it in my head that whatever she tells me, I need to hold back my knee-jerk reaction. I’m ready to hear what all of this is. Why her daughter ran away. Why Riley is wound so tight she’s liable to snap at any second.
She turns to face me, after dropping the rag in the sink, and I pin her against the counter between my arms. “I’m good. Now tell me what happened.”
Her eyes search mine one last time. “I told you, Nate and I aren’t together.”
“I’m having a hard time believing that all of this is over some breakup.”
She shakes her head; her eyes drop to the floor.
I drop my head to gain her attention. “Come on. You obviously need someone to talk to, and for whatever reason; I’m the person who’s here with you tonight. What happened?”
Her breathing accelerates and my eyes catch the rapid rise and fall of her chest. My eyes stay trained on her. Is it the stress of the evening, or is it my proximity to her that’s causing this response? My eyes slowly travel up her exposed skin. Her hard swallow causes my eyes to gravitate to the pulse throbbing in her neck. Reaching up I place my fingers against it and feel the rush of her blood. Rapid and strong, just like the feel of my heart in my chest.
I can’t break my eyes away from where my fingers graze over her skin. I’m drawn to this spot; her pulse is speaking to me. Leaning forward, I brush my lips against her softness. I moan at the smell of her skin. It still holds the same vanilla aroma I remember from years ago. Her soft scent reaches deep within me. I wish I could touch her in every way that I used to.
She’s not ready for that. She’s not ready for me and I’m not sure I would be ready for her. I never imagined she would leave Nate. I never thought she would be available again. With all of our issues from the past resolved, as best as they could be, the possibility of an us is frightening. I could have her again without the weight of a forbidden relationship.
Her head tilts giving me more access to her skin. “Please, Jon. Touch me.”
My body is begging for the feel of her against it, just as much as hers is begging for me. I lean back, fighting the urge to pick her up and take her on her counter.
She feels the distance I create and reaches for the hem of her shirt. She lifts it over her head without a thought and tosses it to the floor. My eyes stay locked with hers. I know if I look down, I will find her bare to me. Her body was something I used to cherish. It was the most beautiful body I had ever seen. If I look down like her eyes are begging me to do, I’ll lose all control.
I don’t give in to her desires, but she pushes on, grabbing the button on my jeans, undoing it and the zipper before my hands catch hers.
I shake my head no. She freezes, her eyes wide like I’ve slapped her in the face. Her quick move to escape my hold knocks me off balance, and she rushes out of the kitchen.
I follow the sound of a door slamming. I’m not sure if this is her bedroom or a bathroom, but when I try the handle it’s locked.
“Come on, Ri. Let me in,” I say against the wood.
“I need a minute, please, just make yourself at home.”
I turn and place my back against the door, hitting my head against it in frustration. The teakettle whistles loudly and I retreat back into the kitchen. Turning off the stove, I make her tea in the mug she sat out, leaving mine untouched.
Why in the hell did I kiss her? This is not the time. I wish I wasn’t drawn to her, but for some reason greater than I can understand, I am.
Chaos seems to follow this girl, but I refuse to be drawn back into her storm. I can be drawn to her, but not to this mess. I think she feels it too. I’m not meant to be a part of her problems; only issue with that is; I don’t know what I’m trying to avoid. What if I run into them head on without even knowing it?
Twenty-seven
Riley~present day
I need to breathe. I need to count backward, forward, or any direction I can form at this point. I have a lot of needs right now, but the one screaming the loudest is the need throbbing fiercely between my thighs.
He said no. That word struck something in me. It’s a meaningful two letters. It’s a word that should hold absolute power and resolution to someone’s decision. I used to ignore it and press on to get what I wanted from men. I used to use my body against them. I would beg and plead until they were buried deep inside me, giving me the release I hastily desired.
I can remember how desperate some of my conquests would be to stand with a firm no. Sometimes giving in to what I wanted without even giving me a firm yes.
No means more to me now since Nate attacked me. No means no. It doesn’t mean take what you want anyway. It doesn’t mean keep pushing me until I change my mind. No has one definition when it comes to sex. STOP.
I’m a monster, just like the one Nate showed me the other night. Had Kiley not walked in, I have no doubt he would have taken what he wanted to put his mark on me and claim me as his. I’m just a monster in a different form. I’m a scarier beast because I am a woman. Aren’t we always marked as the victim and never the perpetrator?
How wrong and deceptive the world can be. We all have the ability to hurt others. It’s whether or not we have the strength and self-control to keep our evil at bay.
My stomach turns with disgust. I’ve acted terrible in the past. I can’t do that to Jon, even though every fiber in my body is begging to walk back out there and take what I wa
nt.
Splashing cold water on my face, I take in my reflection. My skin pale, dark circles under my eyes, and enlarged pupils: I look a mess. Can I deal with Nate’s betrayal? I think so. Can I deal with his betrayal and how it’s affected my daughter? Hardly.
We haven’t been holding it together very well. Her heartbreak weighs heavier on me than my own. I tried to lie to her about what she saw, but she can sense what went down was bad, especially since Nate has not been back to the house.
I’ve only told her we are taking a break, but I know for certain I won’t ever trust him again. His forcing himself on me stirred up emotions I thought were long gone about Dave. I know I asked for everything that Dave did to me, but would I have asked for it had I not felt like he was my lifeline? Dave liked to hold me down and make me struggle. I used to think that sex was like that for everyone. He used to tell me men wanted to feel the power of taking their girl; they got off because of it. He trained me to beg for it, and after some time, I thought it was me who wanted to be treated that way and not because Dave wanted to abuse me.
I didn’t even realize sex could be different until I met Reagan. She wasn’t as forthcoming about her relationship with Dalton behind closed doors, but there were times when she would be disgusted with my sexual endeavors and would indulge in conversations about pleasurable sex without pain. It was hard to allow myself to have that at times. I usually always asked men to apply some kind of physical strain on me during the act, because that’s all I knew.
How would it be to be with a man who loves me to the fullest? Would I even enjoy it? I thought Nate loved me, but I can see how he controlled me as well.
Money has power. He used it to his full advantage. I thought I was fighting against it, but I let him pay for my rehab and he provided my job to me. My livelihood was in his hands. I may not have seen it at first but I felt indebted to him. I can see it clear as day now and after the other night; he thinks I owe him, too.
My raging pulse has calmed and I can finally take a deep breath without feeling like a live wire is burning through my body. I feel things for Jon; things I know have never gone away. How amazing would it be if we could work past all of the bullshit and find that connection we used to have? I catch glimpses from him, and they hold that same emotion I used to see in his eyes when we were teenagers. Maybe I’m reading into things or maybe I just want to see it there. He’s made it pretty clear that he just wants to remain friends.
Gathering myself, I leave the safety of my bathroom, stopping first in my room to get another shirt. As I make my way back downstairs, I find him seated at my table, his elbows rested on its surface, and his hands fisted in his short hair.
I sit across from him and my movement catches his attention. Slowly his eyes come up to meet mine.
“I’m sorry I freaked out. There’s so many fucked-up thoughts in my head right now,” I say, trying to come up with an explanation.
He surprisingly reaches across the table and lays a hand over mine. “I don’t know what to do here. I want to help, but I don’t even know what I’m helping with.”
“I know. There’s a lot going on. I don’t know where to begin.”
“How about why we aren’t going to get Kiley? Don’t you think she should be home after what happened today?” he asks, unsure of my parenting choices.
I take a deep breath and try to explain. This is actually simple. “No, she needs to be there. She needs a break from me, that’s why she left. I want to give her that. She needs her best friend and I can sympathize. Plus, Reagan is that gentle kind of person who can put all of her stuff on hold to be the kind of parent all the kids need. Kiley is where she needs to be tonight.”
“All right, do you want to talk about any of the other stuff? I’m willing to listen.” His hand squeezes mine, reassuringly.
Leaning back in my seat, I focus on my hand in his. "You know, I really thought my life was finally calming down. I thought I’d finally be able to give my daughter the life she deserves. For so many years, I thought I was out on the hunt for a man to bring home to Kiley, turns out, I just had a problem.”
“Mase told me you’re in therapy for sex addicts.” His fingers gently stroke mine.
“My best friend, Rea, used to get upset with me when I would tell her about my flings with men. Sometimes, I wouldn’t even know them for ten minutes before dragging them into public restrooms and begging them to fuck me. I never even told her about those times, just the ones where I would go home with a man on the first night. I would lead her to believe I thought he was the one. I guess, sometimes it would feel that way, but in reality, they were just satisfying a need I had. I was dependent on it, sex was my drug.”
Looking up at him, I find he’s staring at our joined hands now. There’s an unrecognizable expression present on his handsome face. He doesn’t speak or acknowledge my words in any way. He just continues to stroke my hand. I take that as my cue to continue.
“I didn’t even realize I had a problem. It was sex. Everyone does it, right? It wasn’t until one night, I went to the bar all alone, I felt something different about my actions. I wanted every man in there to notice me. It made me feel alive to think about all of them wanting me. I could have my pick, and I could get off on merely the thought of being with more than one of them that night.” I cradle his hands between mine before I continue.
“And I did. I drug one of them off into the bathroom, never asking his name and I took two others home. They were strangers to one another, both nameless to me as well. When I woke the next morning, realization hit me that each and every one of them had a wedding band on. That was always my limit. No married men, but as time went on, I needed them to notice me. I needed them to want me enough to forget about all of their commitments and desire me.”
Warm tears tickle my cheeks, but I don’t dare let go of his hands to wipe my face. I need to feel connected to him. He was the only man I ever felt more than a physical connection with. He was my freedom when I felt I had none. I wish I would have focused on that back then.
“I’m glad to hear you’re getting help,” he whispers. “You deserve much more than what you’ve allowed yourself to have.”
I repeat those words in my head. You deserve much more than you’ve allowed yourself to have. Is that true? I have hated myself for many things over the years. I hate what I became to Dave. I hate what my decisions did to Jon. I hate I cut Mase out of my life.
Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.
“I thought I was finally becoming someone different. Someone I always wanted to be. I thought I was being strong. I felt confident, but a few minutes was all it took to unravel all of those feelings and knock me back down into the hole I was trying to crawl out of.” This time, I do catch the tears falling down my face.
I’m ashamed of them. I hate that I fell into false securities again. Will I ever see situations for what they really are, and not be deceived by every man I try to have a relationship with?
Jon’s chair screeches as it drags across the floor. He’s beside me, taking my hand, and tugging me into the living room. He sits, pulling me down next to him, and wraps me in his arms.
“What happened with Nate?” His chin comes down to rest on top of my head.
I want to tell him. I’ve felt like a secluded young girl again, since it happened. I’ve barely left the house, and I haven’t talked about what happened to anyone. There’s a screaming voice inside my head telling me to get it out, but all I can see is Dave, lying bloody on the floor of his kitchen as Jon was taken away in handcuffs. I flinch at the memory and Jon’s arms tighten around me.
“I want to tell you. I do.”
“Then tell me.”
Pushing against his chest, I sit up and look him in his concerned eyes. “You have to promise you won’t do anything about it. I mean it. No matter what, this is my problem.”
He reluctantly answers, “I promise.”
Reluctantly, I recount everything that happened that night. J
on sits silently listening, hanging on to every word. His body looks strung tight, but he remains seated, which gives me hope that he’ll remain uninvolved. He needs Nate to clear his record, and I have faith that Nate can make it happen. I don’t want Jon to lose anything else because of me.
When I finish, he pulls away, leaning forward until his elbows rest on his knees, and his hands fist in his hair. It’s how I found him in the kitchen earlier. I’m learning he has mastered self-control over the years. I just wish it wasn’t me he had to control himself over. I need a change of subject.
“Kiley is upset with me because she’s knows I’m being dishonest about what she saw. She can sense something bigger happened, something horrible. I’m just not ready to discuss this type of thing with my eight-year-old. She deserves to be an innocent child for a while longer. She also tells me how much she misses him.”
Jon turns toward me, taking in my quivering voice. I think I’m the most broken up about how this will affect Kiley. She loved Nate, and I don’t want her to shut down to the idea of new people coming into our lives. I don’t want her to not let people in because she may be afraid that they will hurt her one day. He was the first boyfriend I brought into her life, and he broke both of our trust and stomped on her heart when she easily gave it to him.
“He calls every day. I’m torn between answering or not. I never pick up, because what if he apologizes? What if he admits to how wrong he was? I’ll let him back in because my daughter loves him,” I confess.
Jon’s hands come up, grabbing hold of my wet cheeks. His soulful eyes search mine. He can’t understand my decisions.
Leaning forward, he presses his forehead to mine and takes a deep breath through his flared nostrils. “Follow me.”
He wanders through my house, peeking through each doorway until he finds my bathroom, and I follow him inside. Placing me in front of him, he turns on the light.
Fighting My Affections Page 19