Knots

by Chanse Lowell

“Because you looked like this the moment I stepped into that chapel today, and I’ve seen you get like this the other times I’ve been near you as well. Am I doing something that rubs you the wrong way? And please, no bullshit—I wanna know the truth so I can stop whatever it is I’m doing wrong.”

  She pinched the center of her bottom lip with her right index finger and thumb. It drew his gaze to the sexy dip there. Her Kewpie doll lips always caught his attention, and they begged to be kissed by him.

  “Did I look like this at the beach?” she asked.

  Good point, but still . . . The majority of the time he was around her, she looked so uptight he worried the brief hour she just slept might be the most sleep she was gonna get if she didn’t find a way to relax.

  And he wanted her to rest. She needed to get better. He wanted her happy and healthy—dammit.

  “No, you didn’t. Do we need to go back there?” he teased.

  She smiled and hiccuped a silent laugh. “Maybe.”

  His left brow popped up. He hadn’t expected her to say that.

  “Hey, I’m serious—please make yourself at home. Prop your feet up, feel free to eat anything you want, and if you need more blankets on your bed, I can get them for you. Or you can grab anything you like out of the linen closets.” He reached out and absentmindedly caught her hand in his. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

  “Two more days. I was thinking about looking at a few places to possibly rent here.”

  His insides lit up, and his chest lifted. “That’s a great idea. A fresh start.”

  “Exactly.” She tucked one leg up under her.

  Better.

  “If you need a good Realtor, let me know, and I can hook you up.”

  She sighed and looked away. “I’m just looking. I’m not committed to moving here yet.”

  “What’s stopping you?” He rubbed his jaw and set his glass down, untouched by his lips.

  The doorbell rang, and he excused himself.

  He paid the delivery guy, brought her a plate of food and handed it to her.

  “Is it okay if I . . . I mean, should I move to the table with my dinner?” she asked, her voice soft, eyes hesitant.

  “Nah, it’s good—stay where you are.” He sat back down next to her in the exact same spot he was before.

  She dug in, and he couldn’t help but watch how enthusiastically she ate.

  “God, I love how you don’t hold back,” he said.

  She blushed and leaned her head to the side. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I have the worst manners when it comes to food and I’m ravenous like this.”

  He chuckled. “It’s refreshing to find a woman that knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it.”

  “Well, yeah, that woman’s not me.”

  He smiled and brushed her hair over her shoulder, remembering how she’d reacted during the service when he’d done that.

  Predictably, she shivered a little and her shoulder bolted up to her ear. So damn cute.

  He retraced the edge of her ear for one more adrenaline rush.

  She scrunched both shoulders this time.

  He needed to back off, but it was so fucking difficult when she was sitting next to him—braless, boxers on and actually talking to him.

  And there was no way he was going to let her go until he gave her what was hers and talked to her about a few things she needed to hear.

  She set her food down. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow. I’ll find a hotel so you don’t have to worry about—”

  “No, you fucking won’t,” he said. “You’re staying here. Period.”

  She held her breath, then exhaled slowly. “I can’t take advantage like that. You’re very generous, but I don’t—”

  “Jean, I swear to God, don’t even say it. I want you here.”

  “Look,” she started, “I know you were his best man three years ago, and you made some promise to him to take care of me if anything was ever to happen to him—but you can’t possibly believe he actually meant that.”

  “Yes, I do. But even if I hadn’t made that promise, I’d still be here to take care of you.”

  Her shoulders melted about three inches and then pulled back. Her tits were jutting out. It was obvious she was trying to look intimidating.

  Made him smile. Fucking cuter than should be possible and making him hard as hell.

  “I don’t need you or anyone else to take care of me, all right? I’m fine.”

  He ran his finger over her ring. “The fact you keep saying ‘fine’ repeatedly states otherwise.”

  She huffed and looked past him, over to the window. Did she feel trapped?

  Shit, he really needed to get this over with before she bolted.

  “I’m not trying to piss you off, I swear, but answer me this—were you happy, Jean?”

  “Why do you keep calling me that or saying Jeanine?” she asked, voice escalating.

  “When you first met me, you said to call you Jean. Later, you changed it to Jeanie, and I noticed that only your really close friends call you Jeanie. Obviously, you don’t trust me, and you only backpedaled because you realized I’d notice everyone else was calling you something else. So, I’m gonna earn that trust.” He ran his finger up the back of her hand, then ghosted it over her wrist and let go when she whispered a hint of a moan.

  Fuck, she was amazing—her reactions so acute from tiny actions. He could own that body in no time. But what was the point if she was afraid of him and lacked trust?

  She hummed for a second.

  He set his hand on his own leg. She was vibrating with nervous energy, and he didn’t want to touch her and make it worse.

  “You didn’t answer me—were you happy?”

  “No,” she said, turning red. Her head jerked toward him, and her eyes were tearing up. “How’s that for honesty? I don’t even know how to be happy. You asked earlier what hurt the most from my memories when I think about Pono, and I stopped talking . . . You wanted to know what I left out. Well, there’s a reason I cried so little today.”

  “I know why you didn’t cry as much as the others, but I wanna hear you say it—that’s why I said I’d want you to finish that thought later when you were here in my home, alone with me.” His eyes softened, though his hand gripped his thigh hard.

  “I don’t know if I ever really loved Pono. I mean, I thought I did when I married him. I had this list of all the qualities I wanted in a husband, and he fit all of them. He was the only guy I ever met that acted so damn ecstatic to even be near me. His whole face would light up, and he would . . .” Her shoulders lost whatever elasticity they had, and she crumpled forward. “God, I’m a horrible wife. I mean, I tried to do anything I could to keep him happy, but I . . .”

  “You weren’t happy though, were you?”

  “No. I was . . . God—I can’t believe I’m saying this . . .”

  “Say it, Jean. You need to,” he said, his forearms flexing as his hands itched to reach out and comfort her.

  “I was bored. After two months, I was sick of it—sick of him. He never got angry—nothing ever bothered him. But I thought that was why I’d married him. Consistency. Reliability. Laid-back man.”

  “I remember you said your dad yelled all the time and was verbally abusive. It makes sense you were looking for the opposite.” His voice deepened and shook a little when he thought about anyone harming her.

  “But that wasn’t even it—not completely,” she went on. “It was his family. I mean, you saw how loving and welcoming they are. My family was never like that. My dad practically disowned me when I married Pono, my mom’s a doormat and they ignored me most of my life. We don’t keep in contact. I hated that my family was so disconnected from each other. I guess I found a family that would take me in.”

  “Is that also a part of what hurt the most today?”

 
She bit her top lip and nodded. “What if they don’t want me around now? I didn’t even feel like I had a right to be there today—already I don’t belong.”

  “You belong in my life no matter what,” he said, his heart enlarging and speeding up in tempo.

  Her face paled. “How? And why would you even say that?”

  He took a deep breath. “Because there are few women in my life I actually enjoy being around, who’ll tell me the truth no matter what. That’s one of the qualities about you Pono admired—and I do, too.”

  “Yeah, if I’m asked directly. Otherwise, I lied to him every day, pretending to be happy.” She slapped her hands on her thighs and groaned. “I should’ve never married him. He deserved someone better—someone who would’ve loved him so much, she couldn’t wait to get home to him.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Whose is it, then? Huh? Is it his? Is it fucking yours?” Her voice broke.

  He pulled her into a hug, and at first she went rigid, but as he stroked her hair, she melted into him.

  “Yeah, go ahead and blame me. I want you to,” he whispered, holding her tight.

  “Why would I do that?” Her tears moistened his shirt.

  “Because I told him if he didn’t marry you, he was the stupidest son of a bitch on the planet.” He kissed the top of her head twice, and then she snuggled into him, tucking her head under his chin.

  She fit perfectly—in his arms, and in his life.

  His chest heated, and his lungs expanded as he tried to slow his breathing down. Her sweet, subtle scent hit him, and he hummed to calm them both down, swaying them back and forth a little as if dancing together.

  The first time they’d danced was at her wedding, and he never forgot how she felt in his arms. He hoped there’d be another chance to do it again in the future, but with a different groom.

  She choked on her breath for a moment, then fisted his shirt and climbed into his lap, curling herself into a small ball.

  “Do you think he knows—now that he’s in Heaven—do you think he knows I was deceiving him?”

  “What you’re really asking is—do I think it’s hurting him,” he said, his hands tangling in the ends of her soft hair.

  He couldn’t help himself. It was so long, soft and tempting. Absolutely stunning—glossy, thick and dark.

  His nose burrowed into it for a moment. He inhaled deeply and as quietly as possible.

  “Oh God!” she groaned. She sniffled back her tears and then was suddenly moving up his body, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “No, honey, I don’t think he’s upset or hurt. He knows your intentions were good and that you did care for him.”

  His heart clenched, and he fought off the urge to kiss her, to make her body feel so good she’d forget about this heartache and past pain.

  She tucked her head up under his chin even tighter. Christ, she smelled so good—he couldn’t get enough of her scent. No woman had ever felt so right for him before. He shouldn’t want this, but he did—more than anything.

  From the moment he met her, there was this unreal, animalistic attraction he could never shake no matter how hard he tried.

  Sharing the same air with her was like an instant aphrodisiac.

  “But . . . He told you we were saving all our money, right? And how I sometimes didn’t want to?” She moved impossibly closer—her entire body entwined around his.

  She was like a baby animal, seeking protection from an adult. And he was like a predatory animal, ready to pin her down, bite and fuck her—hard.

  He held her as tight as he could and rained kisses on the top of her crown. “Yeah . . . He told me. Stop beating yourself up over it. It’s in your nature to try and please the people you care about, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have an opinion and feelings.” His fingers plunged into her hair at the roots now, and his lips were nuzzling into her scalp, almost making love to her. He wanted to cry. He wanted to love her. He wanted to make them both feel better.

  Christ, this was killing him, being this close yet having to restrain himself, rather than her.

  It wasn’t supposed to be erotic—the way he was holding and kissing her. It was supposed to be comforting, but somehow he was still completely erect and struggling to keep his hands from exploring and touching more.

  She squirmed in his lap.

  “I love the way you care so much. It’s beautiful. Never apologize for it,” he told her. He shifted her back a little, since she was seated with her pussy right on his straining head. Uncomfortable.

  Throbbing.

  Wanting.

  Damn near leaking.

  Not good.

  “I want you to eat now. Finish your meal, and if you start picking at it, I’ll feed you myself.” He pulled her off his lap. God—he had to before he couldn’t stop himself at all. “While you eat, I wanna show you something.”

  She wore a dejected expression and then wiped it clean when she reached for her food.

  Oh, bad move. She needed to cuddle more, but before he lost control, he needed to share this with her.

  He walked over to his bookshelf, grabbed the letter and returned to her side.

  “Please listen without interruption. I know it’ll be difficult, but I want you to try,” he said slowly and clearly, making sure she was listening intently.

  She nodded, and her breath hitched.

  “Eat, okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed. She grabbed a forkful and filled her mouth.

  “This was dated a month before you two got married. He wrote to me when I was in South America and in an area where I couldn’t get cell phone service. This is what he shared with me.” He licked his lips and began.

  “Mark, I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do. I proposed to the girl of my dreams a few months ago, and she said yes. But there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my head I can’t get rid of—that I’m not what she needs. She shared her list of a dream man with me, and I’m not him. I can feel it. I have the qualities she listed, but there’s something off.

  “She said she wanted somebody calm, even-tempered, fun to be around, good sense of humor and willing to help others. I’m all those things, but there’s something missing. I can tell she needs more, but when I asked her, she blew me off. What should I do?

  “She’s so incredible. I’m crazy about her. She’s all I can think about. My family loves her, but her family hates me. She says they hate everyone, so I probably shouldn’t take it personally, but it bothers me.

  “Not that everyone has to like me, but, God . . . I don’t know why I don’t really fit in her life like I want to. What should I do? Should I cancel the wedding until we can work through this? Do you think it’s just pre-wedding nerves? I’m asking you because you always seem to be able to cut through the bullshit.

  “If you say ‘Yes, do it,’ then I will. But, just so you know, that means if I go through with it, I want you to be my best man. That also means you need to stay put for at least two weeks before the wedding and be there on the date. No more traveling all over the world. How many offices do you need? You trying to take over the entire planet? Stop being a pretentious prick and be around so I can call you when I need advice. Pono.”

  She sat motionless and mute. The only way he knew she was present at all was because her hand twitched on her thigh.

  “You see? You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said.

  “Even if that were true, I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.” Her eyes welled up.

  “Stay here with me until you figure it out. I’m going to be selling this place soon, and until then, this part of the house’ll be empty. It’s yours. You can have it.”

  “What about work and my friends?” Her voice shook.

  “Come here,” he said. He tucked her back into the position she was in before. Only this time, he leaned back into the cushions, propped his feet up and wasn’t going to let go until she pushed him away. Even then, he
might not release her.

  “You’re working at an office in Phoenix, right? Secretary?”

  “Sort of. I do secretarial work for a law firm, but I also do a lot of data entry—typing up contracts for them since they’re short staffed.” She sighed.

  “I can help you find a job here. In fact, there’s an opening in my office for a secretary-type position.” His breath caught.

  “Jesus, no, Mark. I can handle this myself. I’m not a baby.”

  “No one said you were. You’re a confident, smart woman, and everyone needs help from time to time. It’s not like it’s a handout. You’d have to interview like everyone else.” He smiled. She couldn’t see it since she was hidden in his chest. “And it’s not like you couldn’t go back and visit your friends there like you used to frequently visit your friends here in California.”

  She snorted. “Like Tia?”

  “Yeah, like Tia, and . . .” he got choked up for a minute “. . . me.”

  “I always thought you hated me,” she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

  “Why did you think that?” His gut twisted.

  She released a stuttering exhale and then relaxed into his body.

  It was evident she was really tired. He ought to let her rest, but she was being so open since her guard was down.

  When she failed to answer, he grimaced.

  “Did I say something to make you think I didn’t approve of you?” His fingers drew circles on her back.

  “No, you just . . . You always kept your distance, and you looked like a woman, wearing a thong shoved up her ass and too-tight heels. It was like I was causing you pain somehow.”

  His grin grew wider. God, she was way more observant than he gave her credit for.

  She was pretty accurate. Pain? Yeah—if she considered an eternal, uncontrollable erection around her, straining at his zipper to be painful, then fuck yeah, he was in constant pain when she was near.

  It was manageable, but the ache in his chest was not.

  How was he supposed to tell her that the moment he met her, he was insanely jealous and wanted her for himself? Keeping a safe distance was necessary so he wouldn’t tear Pono apart just to get at her.

  “Funny, I could’ve said the same thing about you. I was giving you space, echoing back to you your needs, since you were unable to state you needed me to keep my distance,” he said.