by Lynda Chance
"You're lying to me, now! Something sure as shit is going on in that head of yours, and this isn't about being a gentleman. You're hiding something from me, and it's not fair! You can't have it both ways."
He shut his eyes and dropped his head, pulling completely away from her. She trembled in her seat as she watched him, and she couldn't control the tears that ran down her face.
When he didn't move from that position, she flicked the lock on the door, opened the car door and ran inside the apartment.
****
Since she'd just lived through the worst two and a half days of her life, Jessica was more than surprised she was actually enjoying herself on Saturday evening. The water park was fun, the rides were awesome. The frat guys were being hilarious, and even their dates, who were mostly sorority girls, were being nice to her.
She managed to push Connor from her mind except for five or six times an hour.
The only problem she was having was the fact that Anthony hadn't taken her 'platonic rule' seriously.
She was having a bit of a problem with him. He wanted to touch her. And she was trying not to be rude to him. He was cute, and he made her laugh, but damnit, she knew he had had an ulterior motive.
After the third time of slipping her hand from his after he'd caught it, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Play nice, Anthony. You promised you would." Jessica felt okay chastising him, because they were the last in line walking to get a Coke and none of their group could hear them.
"I want to play nice, Jessica . . . you're just not letting me," he quipped.
Anthony's comeback was accompanied with puppy-dog eyes and a single finger that he ran down the side of her body. She couldn't help herself, she smiled at him. "Well, stop it."
As she pulled away from him and followed after the group, her phone rang. Digging it out of her pocket, she felt a thrill when she saw Connor's number. She pressed the button and put the phone to her ear. "Hey."
"Hey. I'm watching you."
Jessica felt her nerves stretch and butterflies take flight as she glanced around. Just at that moment, Anthony caught up with her and looped his arm around her neck. A hissing noise came across the phone line, and she knew in that moment, for a fact, Connor was watching her.
"Shake him off. Now."
Jessica heard Connor's command, cut the call without replying, and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. She twisted her torso and ducked slightly, and Anthony's arm fell from around her neck. She continued walking and refused to look around again. Connor had to be somewhere behind them, so he could follow her more easily. And she knew he would.
Her phone rang five more times in the next two hours, each time when Anthony put his hands on her. Jessica thought about starting some shit just to piss Connor off, but she didn't want to play games with him. And she didn't want to have to deal with a confused Anthony. But she quit answering her phone. She just continued to shrug Anthony's hands off, and as she did it, she felt Connor everywhere.
Eventually, the evening came to an end. She convinced Anthony, once again, that she couldn't date him, and as easy-going as he was, he seemed to take it in stride.
When he dropped her off at her apartment, he didn't get out and she didn't invite him in. She jumped from his car, and he drove away.
She stood on the sidewalk that lead to her front door and looked at Connor's car in her parking space. How had he beaten her here? She wasn't surprised he was here, just completely confused as she'd been all evening.
Slowly, she walked up the path and let herself in the apartment. She was confused, she was angry, but most of all, she couldn't deny the feeling that had been rushing through her bloodstream with each and every one of his phone calls today.
Relief.
****
When she let herself into the apartment, Connor was sitting on her couch, hands behind his head, waiting for her. She glanced his way, but didn't stop because she hadn't figured out what she was going to say yet.
She moved from the living room and went through her bedroom, to her bathroom where she began taking out the gold studs in her ears. When she looked in the mirror, she saw his reflection, where he stood, leaning against the doorjamb, watching her. "Why aren't you at the wedding?"
"I didn't go."
Incredulous, she turned to face him. "You didn't go?"
"No, I didn't go."
"I don't understand."
"What is it that you don't understand, baby?"
"Connor! You said you were going, I worried--I cried. I've been crying for two and a half days."
Connor reached out for Jessica, the only thought in his head to comfort her . . . to comfort himself at the same time. She held herself an arm's length away from him, hesitating, pulling from him, and then, finally, let herself go into his arms. Thank God. He pressed his lips against her forehead and lifted her chin and wiped at an errant tear. Moving his lips to her ear, he wrapped her more tightly within his embrace. "I didn't go because you were so upset about it. I couldn't stand for you to be so upset--but I wasn't ready to admit that to you, so I didn't tell you. I'm sorry you worried, but at least it's not something you'll worry over anymore or hold against me forever. Because I didn't go."
"Forever?"
He heard the whispered word and bit her earlobe gently. "I can't imagine having to let you go, not today, not ever. I can't imagine having to go through what I went through today. Not willingly, not again. Seeing you with him, it almost killed me. But I took it, because I deserved it for putting you through so much shit."
Connor felt her trembling hand grip his arm and the feel of her grasping him, leaning her body into his, was his undoing. He'd meant for this moment to be a declaration of . . . a declaration. But it was quickly turning into something else, as pure need sizzled down his spine and hardened him completely. He had things he needed to say to her, things he needed for her to understand. But right now, he needed to sink inside of her. He needed to claim her, in the most primal way possible. He needed to feel her naked skin against his, feel the tight clasp of her body around his, to take the edge off the panic he'd felt earlier when he'd seen her laughing and happy with that dumb fuck frat punk.
As they stood in her bathroom doorway, he reached down between them and began to lift her shirt over her head. Her body stiffened again and anxiety jolted through him and landed in his stomach at both the denial he felt from her body and the one coming from her lips. "Connor, no, I don't think--"
He caught her off with a kiss on her lips, ready to do anything to make her forgive him and let him take her into his arms. "Jessica, please baby. I fucked up. I fucked up, bad. I promise I'll never put you through hell like that again." Her eyes clung to his, and he could see the waver in them. "I'm going to make this up to you, I swear to God. I'll never do anything to hurt you again. But I've got to touch you now. You've got to let me. I'll die right here and right now if you don't."
Her eyes flared, she exhaled deeply, and her torso relaxed against his. Gratification, swift and strong, bled through his system, as she let him to take the shirt away from her. Twisting the cups, he quickly released the front enclosure of her bra and her breasts spilled out. They were beautiful as always, but today they were beautiful in a different way, an added way. They were his, she was his, and he'd never willingly give them up.
He took the soft mounds in his hands and slid his thumbs over the pink tips until they pebbled for him. He heard the sweet sound of her gasping breath, and he lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. He was impatient, and began a slow, but relentless move toward the bed, dragging her with him. When they reached the side of the bed, Connor moved his hands from her shoulders to the enclosure of her shorts, and with not as much patience as he'd have liked, unsnapped them and pushed them and her panties down her legs. "Step out of them."
She did, with a small stumble against him, and that telltale struggle to stay on her feet along with the fine trembling of her limbs did something to his insides that he c
ouldn't explain. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her body against him, banding one arm around her waist and pushing the dangling bra from her slender shoulders with the other.
When he had her completely, irresistibly nude, he held her tightly in his arms and breathed in the scent that he'd so quickly become addicted to. He raised her chin and her eyes lifted and tangled with his, almost decimating him where he stood. Her eyes were so beautiful, so amazing, he could look into them forever.
"You're so incredibly beautiful." As he spoke, he sank down on the edge of the bed and brought her between his spread thighs, holding her at her hips, absorbing her soft weight as she leaned into him. Her hands landed on his shoulders and he experienced an emotion that swirled through his guts that told him he would always want to hold her up. Physically, emotionally, in any way she ever needed . . . the way he needed to do it and the way he wanted her to hold him up and be there for him when he needed it.
He laid her on her back in the middle of the bed, tore his clothes off, and within seconds, he was pushing between her thighs. "I need to be inside of you. I need that like I need to breathe."
When he felt her hands land on his shoulders, he lifted her legs around his waist, and not wasting a second, he plunged inside of her.
Relief, sharp and intense, slammed through his head and slid down his spine. The pleasure was there, but it was a secondary emotion. He reached down and kissed her lips, and began taking slow, even strokes inside her body. Her hips lifted to his, and very soon, they were moving together, bringing each other the emotional relief they needed.
He lifted his hands and wrapped them around her face, and stared down into her eyes. "I love you, Jessica."
Her eyes flared and filled with tears as they clung to his.
He took another stroke and the rightness of it all spread through him. "I love you so much. I'm so, so sorry for what I put you through."
Her fingers gripped his shoulders, and her lips parted. "I love you, too."
Joy, strong and sure, wrapped around him in a silken cocoon of euphoria. He lowered his mouth to hers and made slow, sweet love to her.
****
As they lay in bed, entwined together, Connor cleared his throat and knew he had to explain. He wanted to explain. He took a deep breath and began slowly. "I fucked up with you. From the very beginning and for damn sure this past week." He lifted his hand from her chin and brushed her hair away from her face, pushing it off her cheek, exposing the fragile shell of her ear. "I promise it'll never happen again. I've been lying to myself since the first time I got you in this bedroom, and probably even before then. I want to start all over with you. If you'll give me that." Connor was drowning in the eyes that clung to his but he managed to keep speaking, to say the things he needed to say to her. "We started out in a way that no couple ever should. But it happened and truthfully, I'm only thankful that we met at all. But now we need to fix things, make them as they should be. I know you've wanted to do that, and I . . . I'm the one who screwed things up." He swallowed as he found it difficult to go on, but her fingers gently pressed into him, asking him for more and he continued, "To make you understand, I need to tell you about my wife, okay?"
Her hand lifted to his cheek and the physical connection she wanted with him calmed his soul. "Okay," she said simply.
"Valerie and I were married right out of college. Right after I finished my undergrad. We'd dated for a while, and we finished our bachelor's at the same time."
As he sucked in a breath, Jessica asked, "She was at UTD, as well?"
He could hear something in her voice, and he was glad the truth wouldn't upset her, even a little bit. "No. She was at North Texas. We met through mutual friends, and began making the commute to see each other." Connor could see the hint of relief in her eyes, and he knew that UTD would be their Alma Mater, only theirs. Even if he had no control over the past, he was glad of that truth. What had once bothered him . . . Jessica attending UTD, now only pleased him.
"Val got a really good job in Dallas right away, and I was starting on my Masters. I'd already developed one application that was taking off, and between marketing that, and going to school, I was pretty damn busy. I slipped into the relationship because it was easy and convenient, and I stayed in it for the same reason. At first, Valerie was independent and had a life of her own in addition to what we shared, and I thought it was the perfect relationship. When she kept pushing for marriage, I caved. She loved me, and I thought at the time that I loved her." Connor felt as much as heard the gasp that Jessica let out, and his arms tightened around her.
"The marriage was almost one-sided from the start. But it was convenient for me, and for the first couple of years, it was fine. I was busy, she was busy, and we didn't see each other enough for things to matter. But then I finished my MBA, and started working my ass off trying to launch my company. It went well for me, and when the money started rolling in, she wanted a house. Not just any house, and not the one I live in now."
Jessica inhaled and asked a question. "You haven't lived there long?"
"I moved right after she died. I had to sell the house we lived in . . . I couldn't breathe in that house. She wanted a fucking mansion . . . not literally, but almost. I didn't see the need for it, I wanted to pour the money back into the business, but I had to buy it for her to shut her up. And then she wanted to quit her job and 'take care of me', which she did. She quit her job, and then she began smothering me so much I damn near couldn't take it. Very quickly, she had no life of her own, no friends, and I was her world. Her only world. Maybe I should have liked it, but I didn't. I hated it. And then she came home one day with the first tattoo. A heart, and my initials, on her hip. And within a few years, she'd decorated herself with a 'Connor' theme. My name, the date of our first meeting, first kiss, wedding anniversary, and bullshit like that. I was in denial about our marriage from there on out. I knew, deep inside, that it wasn't going to work. But she loved me so damn much, and I felt so damn guilty for thinking about divorcing her that I put it on the back burner and concentrated on my business. But it was there, in my heart, every day. And it was there, also, on the day she died. And so was the relief. Relief. Can you believe that? How fucked up is that? I've been so damned ashamed of that feeling of relief I had, that it's almost crippled me. I can't explain how guilty I felt, and Jesus Christ, when I met you. .. "
Connor felt Jessica's muscles seize up and the breath stall in her lungs, but she remained quiet and he continued on. "I wanted you like living hell from the first moment I saw you. When you walked inside that restaurant . . . Jesus. I knew it was you, I recognized you from your picture. But you looked . . . even better in person. You looked good in the picture, but what it didn't show was . . . your sexiness."
He reached down to kiss her because he had to taste her before he went on. She clung to his lips and he could feel her heart pounding in time with his. "I've never met a woman more sexy than you. There isn't one. You got it, baby. And you don't even seem to fucking know it. And I love that. I remember being completely poleaxed when you walked up to the table. I remember needing to be polite . . . to stand up . . . but I couldn't."
"You stood up, Connor," Jessica said with a softness in her eyes that he couldn't describe.
"I did? Shit. I had it bad, baby, from the very first moment. Even from when I saw your picture. But after talking to you, I knew you weren't suited for what I had in mind. Not at all. You were too young, too innocent, too . . . fresh. I tried to talk myself out of it, I tried that one time to get up and leave, remember?"
"Yes."
"Dear God, thank God you stopped me. But it was a hard road, the guilt. It started almost as soon as I saw you, and it kept getting worse. The more I wanted you, the more guilty I felt. And then when . . . " He inhaled deeply. " . . . you told me that you loved me, I almost lost it completely. I wanted that so badly. You'll never know . . . what kind of shit I was feeling. I kept thinking, 'I'm alive, and Val is dead, and I wanted
her gone, and all I want is Jessica'. And then my phone rang. It was like an omen, you know? It wasn't really, but that's what I talked myself into thinking. I needed an excuse to run from you, run from the guilt, and I took it. That's why I kept telling you that I wasn't going to sleep with her, because there was no fucking way in hell. But I was ashamed of the way I was feeling, and you were the last person I could admit it to." Connor stopped speaking and tried to see what she was thinking, but he couldn't tell. "And even now, I'm waiting for you to tell me that I'm a despicable human being, that I don't deserve to have your love, and that I probably don't even deserve to be alive."
Jessica couldn't believe what Connor was saying to her, but she believed him, absolutely. She could feel his heart racing like crazy, and she needed to calm him down, to soothe him. "It's okay." She ran her fingers down his cheek and up through his hair in a soft caress. "Don't worry. You're a good, decent person, not despicable in any way. You didn't want her dead, Connor. You just didn't want to be married to her anymore. I've taken Psyche classes, you know. You're feeling survivor's guilt, and every bit of it is normal. On top of that, I think it's fairly normal, when you want out of a relationship so desperately, to have thoughts of the other person dying. It happens all the time. It's not that you really wanted her dead, you just didn't want to be the one to have to hurt her so badly. We studied the phenomenon in Psyche class. You've got to let this go. You didn't really want her dead, did you?"
"God, no, of course not."
"Well, then, you need to forgive yourself and start living again. You're right. You're alive and she's not. You've mourned her and your lost relationship in your own way. You deserve every bit of happiness coming to you."
"You think?"
"Yes, and if you can't get over the guilt, you need to go see someone about it."
"I feel better just confessing all this shit to you."
"I feel better knowing why you acted the way you did."
"Do you forgive me?"
"Knowing the truth, there's nothing to forgive, but if it makes you feel better, yes, I do."