9781631056314TattooedHeartsJolieNC

by Mika Jolie

A low sigh escaped his mother’s lips. Charles’ jaw bunched.

  “I can’t ask him to keep our secret anymore.”

  Time stood still. Suddenly reality was an endless nightmare and Forrest was trying to claw his way out. The image of the coffin being lowered into the cold, hard earth, replayed itself over and over in his mind.

  “For thirty-one years Luc and I were pretty selfish and kept you to ourselves.”

  Shock froze Forrest’s limbs.

  “Forrest,” she pleaded.

  Delicate hands brushed over his arm, without a word he gripped his mother’s wrist and freed himself of her touch. “What are you saying?”

  His mother’s chin quivered. A thundering silence echoed far and wide in the room. Every still second that passed, the more his expanding lungs burned for air and even though he knew he wouldn’t get any, he still took a breath.

  “Say it,” he pushed in a low voice. The edges of reason blurred, angry waves crashed against each other, as if fighting over which would drown him.

  “That’s enough.” Charles ran a hand through flecks of gray hair.

  “Say it,” Forrest demanded again, ignoring Charles’ command.

  “Luc isn’t.” She shook her head, her gray eyes blurred with tears. “Wasn’t,” she corrected, “your father. Charles is. I’m sorry.”

  Forrest’s heart caved in and crumbled away. Pain surged through his body as if he’d been stabbed with a branding iron. Even though he saw it coming, the words hit him like a metal baseball bat slamming into his muscles. His blood vessels burst and his diaphragm collapsed under the force of his mother’s words. Disgust rippled through every fiber of his muscles and he tasted bile.

  “Forrest.” She reached for him again but he put his palms up, closing his mother off and her arms fell limp at her sides.

  He waved one arm toward where Charles stood. “You fucked him.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Charles ordered.

  “Stay out of this,” Forrest spat without looking at Charles.

  “I’m afraid I can’t.” Charles’ gaze swept over him. “You’ve always been my business and you can’t speak to your mother that way.”

  He did a quick calculation between his birthday and Jason’s. About three months apart. From what he knew, Charles had been engaged to Jason’s mother and his parents had been newlyweds. “You slept with him while he was engaged.”

  “It was…”

  “You’re still sleeping with him.” The accusation made his mother flinch. Forrest took a deep breath, but it hurt his ribcage. He exhaled, inhaled again. No relief. Instead his head felt as though it would split in two.

  Charles stepped away from the window and came to stand next to Marjorie. Everything about the older man told Forrest whatever happened between them took two and had been mutual.

  The hinges of the door squeaked open, Jason shoved into the room with Minka by his side. He turned to his father, his eyes alight with fury. “Tell me what I thought I heard isn’t true.”

  Father and son’s gazes clashed across the room. Minka grabbed onto Jason’s arm.

  “Looks like we’re brothers in every sense of the word.” Forrest turned to Charles. “Go ahead.” His voice boomed across the room. “Tell him about you and my mother. How you fucked your best friend’s wife.”

  “Tell me it’s not true.” Jason said, his tone calm and patient, completely unfazed by his surroundings.

  “I can’t do that,” Charles replied, looking Jason directly in the eye.

  “Jesus, Dad,” Jason said after a beat. He released Minka’s hand and took another step forward. “Do you have any limits?” He shook his head. “I didn’t think you could sink any lower.”

  “We were together once,” Charles responded, his voice indicating he was in full control. “It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I don’t regret that Marjorie and I made a son out of it.”

  “You betrayed your best friend by sleeping with his wife,” Jason said, his voice echoed his disbelief, his disappointment. “I thought you said you only cheated on Mom once.”

  “It’s true.”

  Jason raked a hand through his blond hair. “Either I’m terrible at math or your version of once doesn’t add up.”

  “Marjorie and I happened before I married your mother.” Charles let out a breath. “Three months before.”

  “You were engaged,” Jason said with disgust. He glanced over at Marjorie. “She was married to your friend.”

  “I went to Charles,” his mother said, and slouched slowly in a chair.

  Forrest hissed. “Dad wasn’t good enough?”

  “Enough, Forrest,” Charles shouted.

  “Why now?” Jason asked. “After thirty-one years. Why now?”

  Charles’ blue eyes swept over Jason. “Because he’s my son just like you are.”

  “My father is dead.” Revulsion burned Forrest’s gut. Unable to withstand any more of the madness and desperately needing to relieve the pressure building inside his chest, he opened the door and almost slammed into Claire. The horrid look on her face told him she’d heard everything.

  He hurtled past her, brushing her shoulder in the process.

  “Forrest.” He heard her call after him, but didn’t look back. He struck the door open and stepped into the snowstorm. He shook. Not from the cold, but rather the thrashing inside him and the feeling he’d lost not just his father but himself today.

  * * * *

  Claire bolted toward Forrest’s front door. Gut-wrenching. Heart pumping. A swirling storm of screaming silver continued to fall from the sky. The soft crystals she would have found so bewitching from the other side of a pane glass, found their way into her jacket in every possible way. She slogged through the snow. The leather soles of her heels had terrible traction in the snow, causing her to stumble and almost fall.

  She looked downward and kicked some of the powder off her black pumps. Had she given herself a moment to think things through, she would have changed into her Adirondack boots before running out of Martha’s Way. But after Forrest charged past her, she’d only had one thing in mind–go to him and be the friend he desperately needed right now.

  She knocked on the door, blew into her bare hands, and pulled tight on her coat. She waited, her mind whirring. Flashes of the conversation between Marjorie, Charles, and Forrest whipped through her mind.

  She had to help Forrest.

  She needed to be here for him.

  They were connected, no matter what time had done.

  She knocked again, this time her hand formed into a fist, then turned her attention to the night. Flakes pelted against her frozen cheeks, clinging to eyelashes and hair. A marked hush pervaded the earth and the sky. Her gaze stayed on Forrest’s orange crush Jeep. It stood alone in the driveway, rugged and impressive under the storm, just like its owner.

  She turned, ready to knock again, when the door opened. Forrest stood before her, without his signature glasses and still dressed in the custom fit black wool gabardine suit. The solid white shirt was unbuttoned, giving her a glimpse of the finely sculpted muscles of his chest.

  She dragged her gaze to his face—clouded brow, pained mouth. Intense rage stared back at her. Hurt and anger etched across his face. His vibe screamed I’m really pissed off.

  There was something frighteningly sexy about the way he looked.

  For ten years she’d tried to deny the desire, the emptiness, and the hole in her heart. But standing in the doorway, she became lost in Forrest, in the feeling of wanting to connect with him. Comfort him. Electricity sparked every cell in her body. She stood frozen and wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

  He stepped back. She walked past him into the entryway. His familiar scent teased her senses. Fresh and woodsy tones mixed with citrus, pine, cashmere wood, and leather that screamed athletic. Sexy. Her body drummed with emotions buried for way too long.

  Lust.

  Longing.

  Need.

  A need to
ease his grief, give him all that she could and never be the cause of his pain again.

  His graphite eyes swept over her with unabashed lust. “Claire, don’t test me. I’m not that strong right now.” His voice was raw and sensual, a perfect combination of passion and pent-up anger.

  She pushed aside any doubts and closed the space between them. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have walked away from her. She was temporary after all. Tonight none of that mattered. She touched his face, the stubble on his jaw scraping her palm.

  “Forrest,” she started but he caught her wrist and pulled her to him. Silence floated around them, everything frozen in mid-air. She met the smoky steel of his gray eyes. For a beat, they stayed like that, looking at each other with mutual intensity, until he cupped her chin in his hands.

  With a tortured sound, his lips crashed onto hers, burning her with his mouth. The kiss was demanding, urgent, with no hint of that deep heady emotional connection he once freely gave her. She was in his arms for one purpose only, to be used as a shock absorber, a cushion. That much was clear. But because her heart was tattooed with his name, Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed full length against him, giving all of herself to the man who forever owned her.

  “I’m not going to be gentle,” he said thickly against her lips, leaving no room to mistake where his mind was going.

  “I don’t care.” She found his mouth once again, desperate to give him the one thing she could….herself.

  They devoured each other with lips and hands. Their tongues dueled. Passion flared. She moaned against his mouth, wanting more. Claire wasn’t sure for how long they kissed or touched, until Forrest pulled away. She held on to his jacket, not wanting him to stop. Not ever. Slowly she opened her eyes, ready to beg if need be. “Don’t stop.”

  He lowered himself to his knees, her gaze followed. Her heart stuttered at the sight of Forrest kneeling in front of her.

  “Taking off your shoes.”

  He didn’t have to. She kicked them off and stepped onto the plank wood floor.

  “And tights.”

  Claire’s hands immediately went to her dress. All she had to do was scoot up the hem and wriggle out of the thick black tights.

  Forrest caught her hands. “Let me.”

  Steady hands caught the skirt of her dress and bunched it to her thighs. Forrest smoothly striped off her stockings and black lacy underwear. All the while his fathomless eyes held hers captive. She sucked in a breath. No turning back now. When he came back to his feet, he gently spun her around so that she was facing the foyer desk. Taking her hands in his, he pinned them out on the table, forcing her to bend over.

  “Don’t move,” he said in a thrillingly rough voice and gently squeezed her hand. Not that she had any intention of moving. She was here for him—to do as he pleased. She closed her eyes and let herself go.

  “Watch.” His voice was quiet and gruff against her ear, leaving her no choice but to surrender to his demand.

  Claire opened her eyes and saw herself in the oversized natural wood mirror on the wall above the table. The sight of her bent over the table, dress pushed up to her thighs, hair spilling from its rhinestone ponytail holder, lips parted, sent a thrill through her middle. She looked rumpled, conquered.

  She met his gaze in the mirror. He stripped off his jacket, undid his belt, and unzipped. They were both half-dressed and there was something so sexy about the way he stood behind her like a caged tiger—big, silently angry with contained rage ready to pounce on an overconfident attacker.

  They looked…hot.

  They stood like that for a long moment, staring at each other in the mirror. Slow burn of desire crackled. Then he leaned forward and cupped her breasts over the cotton material of her dress, gently squeezing. Hunger flamed in his eyes. Hunger for her. The thought made her head spin and scorch her body from the inside out. He glided one hand lower, between her legs. A tremor ran through her as he dipped one finger between her thighs.

  “Oh…” she whispered then spread her legs for him.

  From behind her, Forrest let out a very low, sexy male sound, and then he was exploring her most sensitive spot for the first time in a decade. His fingers trailed her own moisture over her, exploring every dip and crevice, until she was ebbing and flowing. Claire gripped the desk edges for support, eyes closed, and her head back against his chest, she gave in to the wave of ecstasy sweeping over her.

  “Watch, Claire,” he reminded her again.

  He slid another finger deep inside her, filling her, and she let out an incomprehensible little cry. “Please, now,” she begged.

  “Look at me.” He cupped her ass tightly in his hands and spread her open, exposing her most guarded place. One long finger glided across her swollen clit, making her buck forward. Her eyes flew open and locked with his.

  “Tonight we fuck.” His voice carried a cool, even authority of command.

  This was the first time she was seeing this side of him. Ten years ago, they’d been inexperienced and blindly in love. Tonight Forrest was in complete control. Excitement coursed through her veins. Her heart beat faster, blood rushed to her face, and ah, down there. Pulsating with need, she longed to pull him toward her, to put some part of him between her—in her—and fill that unfilled space. With his thighs, he nudged her legs apart a little more then plunged inches of perfection into her, causing a split second of pain. She gasped and let out a little whimper.

  He stopped. Hot, hard flesh buried deep inside her core.

  “Good?” he murmured.

  Oh God, yes. So good. She nodded and writhed against him, silently letting him know she was up for whatever he was willing to give. Then he was thrusting inside her, deep and borderline rough, burying his suffering in her with every tumultuous stroke. His gaze, dark and hooded, never wavered from hers as he hammered away his pain, crushing down walls of her body until she was able to accommodate every inch of his hard perfection.

  Her shoulders dropped back. Her lips parted. She took each thrust, arching her back for more, letting him use her. And so he did. He continued to pummel, sinking deeper and deeper. With each stroke, Claire got another jolt, another zap.

  Their bodies became reacquainted with the perfection of their chemistry. Together they fell into a rhythm and began to move simultaneously. “Forrest,” she cried out his name, her muscles constricting.

  “Right there with you.”

  Their bodies collided, powered only by the need to get off, to have it rough and hard and fast while reaching for the pinnacle. One hand moved to her hair and dug into her scalp as they fell in the abyss of their desire until she shuddered and her legs buckled.

  Strong arms were quick around her waist. He pressed her back against the wall of his chest, holding her steady. “I got you.”

  She wanted to tell him how much of her he got, possessed. But his breath was hot in her ear, making her shake and clouding her mind.

  “Okay?” His voice carried a tenderness she hadn’t felt from him in a long time.

  “Yes.”

  He slipped out of her, breaking their connection. “Come on, you’re staying the night.”

  Chapter Ten

  “There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart...pursue those.”

  Michael Nolan

  Claire slowly rose from the depths of oblivion and became aware of three things. One, her neck and the muscles between her legs ached. Two, the reason for the soreness, she’d slept with Forrest–okay, they had wild animal sex, over and over again. And three, she was alone on his sofa, where they eventually collapsed and fell asleep.

  Images from last night trundled through her brain. Forrest bending her over in the entryway and once more in the living room, until his legs had been the ones to give way to the madness. The fiery chemistry had not waned with the years. Last night had been…intense. She went to him and he took—a lot of deep penetration, in and out, super-fast and h
ard. A total act of lust without a drop of any emotional connection. Pure, uncontrolled sex. Nothing more. Sure, he held her in his arms and kissed her goodnight but through it all, something had been missing.

  Love.

  That wonderful, powerful bond where the heart and soul connected and the emotions were so heightened that they could fly. They had that once before and she wasn’t surprised to realize she missed the feeling. Truth was she’d been in denial all along, running away from what her heart craved.

  The sex had been invigorating. But now in his living room alone, emptiness swallowed her. They hadn’t made it to his bedroom, the reason was obvious. He hadn’t wanted that intimacy from her. Not that she blamed him. He’d been hurt and grieving. But deep down, she wished she had woken up in his arms. Groaning, she lifted the mocha knit thrown casually over her and assessed her current state. Still in her dress. Another barrier. No need to get completely naked. She offered. He took. End of story. Shame flooded her veins from head to toe. With a sigh, she pulled herself to a sitting position and looked out of the window. Outside was picturesque, a bright, sunny day with white covering the yard.

  The snow had stopped, which meant she could totally escape and deal with facing Forrest later. Tossing the throw aside, she rose from the sofa. All she had to do was find her shoes and quietly slip out. Her gaze toured the living room floor. No shoes. The foyer. She’d kicked them off there by the door. Perfect.

  “Looking for these?”

  He caught her right smack in the middle of her exit strategy. Biting her lip, she gave herself one of those silent pep talks similar to the ones she’d done before facing thousands of screaming faces, then turned to face her tormentor. Her breath caught.

  He stood by the doorway with her shoes dangling in one hand and her purse in another, looking so handsome she had to suck in a breath. Freshly showered with his hair slicked back from the water so his features were more prominent—icy gray eyes tinted to classic light blue, stubble accentuating soft, kissable lips, chiseled jaw, and a hint of a frown on his face. He was the epitome of masculine strength and beauty. The faded jeans hanging low on his hips and the olive cashmere Henley hoodie didn’t help either. Her first instinct was to touch him or maybe drag him back to the sofa…this time they’d be naked. Instead, Claire crossed her arms beneath her breasts.