The Reality of Wright and Wrong

by Leddy Harper

  I stepped into Jordan’s office, disregarding the fact that he hadn’t greeted me, or even glanced up from his computer screen to acknowledge my presence. If this was how he planned to treat me throughout the entire meeting, he’d wish I had pressed charges.

  “Jordan,” I greeted him as I took a seat in front of his desk—in a chair he hadn’t offered because he still hadn’t looked at me.

  Finally, he pushed his keyboard to the side and turned his seat to face me. “How would you like to be addressed? As Wrong? Or Brogan?”

  I could’ve had a little fun with him, but I chose to keep this as simple and painless—for me—as possible. “Either one is fine.”

  He nodded, yet he refrained from choosing a name, and instead, said nothing.

  “Here’s a copy of the final bill for all the repairs and items that needed to be replaced.” I slid a few pieces of paper across the desk to him. “And here’s the agreement I need you to sign. It simply states the terms you’ve discussed with Mercy as well as what will happen if you don’t follow through. Feel free to take your time going through the itemized receipt, because once this is signed, you can’t contest any of the charges.”

  While he scanned the papers lined with dollar amounts, I leaned back in the chair, my legs stretched out in front of me with my ankles crossed. I almost locked my hands behind my head, but I figured that might’ve been too much. Being an asshole wasn’t as much fun when the douche who deserved it acted more like a frightened housecat than the lion he pretended to be while destroying my shop.

  Once he finished going through the itemized list, he moved on to the contract. He might’ve been a fast reader, though it seemed more likely that he simply wanted to get this over with. In a way, it made me believe Mercy when she said he was genuinely remorseful for what he’d done. I was even more convinced when he signed the last page and then slid it across his desk to me, avoiding eye contact.

  Pussy.

  “Thanks. I’ll get a copy made and send it to you. Would you prefer if I emailed it? Or would it be better if I dropped off a hard copy?” Damn…playing nice wasn’t as easy as it looked.

  “Email is fine,” he answered and then went back to his computer.

  I stood from the seat, but before moving away from his desk, I decided to get as much information as I could. “She’s never coming back. You know that, right?” That got his attention, his narrowed eyes swinging my way. “Why not tell her the truth? That’s what I don’t understand. You’re so angry with her, and apparently, with me as well, so why keep up with the lie? We both know that was you she saw in the club.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I don’t? How do you think I knew it was you who trashed my shop? We’ve never met. In fact, I’ve never seen a picture of you. All I had was a face on camera, so how could I have known it was you?” When he didn’t respond, I pressed my hands flat against the top of his desk and leaned forward, towering over him. “I know who you were with that night.”

  His face turned beet-red as the muscles in his jaw danced to the cadence of his fury.

  “Let me ask you again, Jordan. Why continue to lie?”

  “I don’t see why you care. Believing I hadn’t cheated on her didn’t stop her from choosing you. So what does it matter if I tell the truth or not?” He was millimeters away from snapping, and it made me pause to question if it would be worth it or not.

  Then I decided I didn’t give a shit. “Because she deserves to know.”

  “She broke my heart. She deserves to feel at least some guilt for that.”

  I pushed away from his desk and glared at him. “Are you kidding me right now? You cheated on her, and she caught you. The only person you have to be mad at is yourself. The only person who should be feeling any sort of guilt is you. You fucked up. Own it.”

  The bastard must’ve found his balls, because he stood up and squared his shoulders. “I’m not proud of what I did behind her back. I hate myself for it. But that doesn’t really matter, does it? Because I wasn’t given the opportunity to make it right, or to prove how sorry I am. I’ve given her everything, and she couldn’t even give me a chance to prove to her how much I love her.”

  “You can’t say you gave her everything. You didn’t give her respect. You didn’t give her any loyalty. You took advantage of her trust and played roulette with her love. And guess what? You lost. Game over. You can’t be upset with her for choosing someone who treats her better than you ever did—and that’s even without her knowing all you’ve done behind her back.”

  “Just give it time.” His tone held a bite of bitterness, as well as a heaping of resentment. “You’ve only been with her for a few weeks. It’s easy to stand here and act all high and mighty. How about in two years you come back and see me. I’ll treat you to a beer while you try to tell me how much better you are than me.”

  I should’ve left. Walked out. But for some unexplainable reason, my feet remained rooted to the carpet and my eyes steady on his. “Two years. Ten. Fifty. It doesn’t matter how long I’m with her, I’ll always be better than you. I’ll never treat her the way you did, no matter how many anniversaries we celebrate.”

  “You say that now. But sooner or later, her act will eat at you. You’ll no longer find it cute or endearing. It’ll get to you, and before you know it, you’ll be lying in bed, Mercy curled up on the other side as far away as she can get, and you’ll think about the woman who touched your arm while laughing at your joke. You’ll remember the way she smelled when she leaned closer, or as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. And without realizing it, you’re fantasizing about her.”

  I clenched my jaw and fisted my hands, fighting the urge to explain just how pathetic he was. If these were his thoughts as he slept next to Mercy, then he had more issues than I’d initially thought. “You’re assuming everyone’s as stupid as you. Well, guess what? Only a moron would think of another woman while lying next to someone as amazing as Mercy.”

  “You’re absolutely right. Maybe her insecurities won’t ever get to you. Maybe you’ll spend the rest of your life content with having sex in the dark. And on the rare occasion she lets you keep the light on, it’s possible you won’t mind that she doesn’t take off her shirt. Always under the covers as if sex is something to be ashamed of.”

  I lost the ability to speak. There was no way he was talking about Mercy.

  “And as long as you don’t mind always being the initiator, then yeah…I guess it’s possible you wouldn’t think of other women while lying next to her. But if you’re like every other living, breathing man, you’ll reach a point when you start to recall the feeling of having someone touch you because they wanted to, without you having to make the first move. What it was like to sit on the couch next to your girl and have her move closer to curl into you rather than shift on the cushion to give you more room. And then there will be nights when you can’t stop thinking about that one girl who just couldn’t get enough of you. That’s when you’ll turn to the side and realize you’ll never have that again.”

  “Then why the fuck are you so broken up over losing her? If that’s how you truly feel, you should be thanking me. Not vandalizing my shop. Not giving Mercy a hard time for leaving you. Not continuing to lie to her about what she saw just so she’ll feel guilty for hurting you.”

  “Because I love her.” The emotion in his tone was raw, proving that somewhere inside, likely deep within his black heart, he truly did love her in some way. Unfortunately, that didn’t make up for how poorly he’d treated her.

  “I guess it’s easy to overlook what you perceive as downfalls in the relationship when you’re getting it somewhere else. Is that what you planned to do for the next sixty or so years? Sleep around while taking advantage of everything else she had to offer?”

  As his defensiveness waned, his shoulders drooped, and the hard lines of his expression began to fade away. “It was just until she moved in with me. I told myself th
at once she got here, once we were no longer in two different states, but under the same roof as husband and wife, I’d put a stop to seeking affection elsewhere. It was selfish. I know. In my head, I told myself she’d never find out—what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. That it was nothing more than a man on the cusp of marriage sowing a few last-minute wild oats.”

  “Well, I’m sure you don’t need this pointed out, but I’d say that didn’t work out quite like you planned, huh?” I backed away from his desk until my heels met the door on the other side of the room, not once dropping my stare from his. “Like I said, Jordan…you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. Hopefully, paying off your debt will be a constant reminder that you’re the reason you lost everything—not me. And certainly not Mercy.”

  I didn’t bother to wait around for a response.

  He didn’t deserve any more of my time.

  19

  Mercy

  I was standing at the island with a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other when I heard the Jeep coming down the driveway. I’d been on pins and needles ever since he left the shop to finalize his agreement with Jordan. It wasn’t that I was scared of anything happening, considering Brogan trusted me and anything my ex could say about me would be water off his back, but that didn’t stop the nerves from eating away at me for the last two hours.

  Hearing the door from the garage open and close, I scooped the diced tomato into the salad bowl and then hurried to rinse off my hands. I had a feeling I’d need to feel his arms around me, and that wouldn’t happen if I had tomato juice all over the place. And as if I’d timed it perfectly, Brogan stepped into the kitchen just as I finished drying my hands.

  He took one look at me and stilled between the laundry room and the kitchen island I stood behind. Even with a giant slab of granite—as well as the mess left over from preparing dinner—hiding half my body from view, it didn’t stop him from practically stripping me with his heated stare. And once he brought his attention back to my face, there was no denying the thoughts that ran through his filthy mind.

  I might’ve seen his smile with my eyes…but I felt it between my legs.

  Brogan didn’t waste another second getting to me. He rounded the counter, turned me in his arms, and lifted me off my feet while owning my mouth with his tongue. It was intense and passionate. Then he set me on the edge of the counter next to the sink, his body positioned between my legs. His hands frantically drawing my hips closer to his.

  And there wasn’t a damn thing I could think of other than feeling him inside me.

  Following his lead, I tugged at the hem of his shirt until he leaned away long enough to slip it over his head. However, he didn’t allow me time to explore the colors and lines on his chest like normal. I’d only ever seen him this impatient when he was in a mood, irritated at something he couldn’t control. Except this time was different. It wasn’t anger or frustration that coursed through him, but something else. Something I couldn’t recognize. Right now, it wasn’t important enough to make me stop and question it.

  His need fueled my need.

  His desire fed mine.

  We stripped each other naked, my bare bottom on the hard, cold granite. His warm body between my thighs. And without the typical foreplay that Brogan enjoyed so much, he was inside me. Filling me. Stretching me. Bringing me to the edge like a freight train barreling toward an unfinished bridge.

  I anchored myself to him with my legs around his waist while using my arms as leverage, pulling myself closer to bury my face in the crook of his neck. And at the sound of my name clawing its way past his clenched jaw, raspy and rugged, I sank my teeth into the top of his shoulder and whimpered through the kind of intense orgasm only Brogan could give me.

  It was a miracle he hadn’t followed me off that cliff, though it wouldn’t be long. His movements had become a bit stiff, and his hold on me grew tighter than before. There was some reason he’d held himself back, and as soon as I pulled my head away, I understood what he waited for.

  Cradling the side of my face in one hand, the other still digging into my hip and ass cheek, he consumed my mouth in the most eager, fervent, borderline violent kiss he’d ever given me. And I never wanted it to stop. Never wanted him to stop. My entire body burned with what he did to me—the warmth of his orgasm, the brutality of his kiss, the eager yet gentle way he possessed me with his hands.

  Brogan Daniels did things to me.

  Amazing and wild and addictive things.

  When the hedonistic fog cleared from my brain, I was able to concentrate enough to ask, “Where did that come from?”

  I’d been the willing recipient during his moods, and even though it was a rare occasion, it was enough to know this wasn’t brought about by a negative emotion. And I’d woken up to his insatiable appetite enough times to understand that this wasn’t a reaction to his uncontrollable desire for me. However, recognizing what it wasn’t didn’t do much to tell me what it was.

  “Have I ever told you how much I love your reaction to me?”

  I stared into his vibrant green eyes, the color they always were after we were intimate, and tried to read his unspoken words in the juniper-colored striations. Still, I had a hard time translating it all, too lost in the adoration that nearly blinded me. “What does that mean?”

  He traced my brow with the pad of his thumb, a lazy grin playing on his lips. “I feel like there’s a switch inside me, and you’re the only one who’s ever found it. It could be a look, the way you say something, your hair, your clothes. You can turn a certain way, move a certain way, and in an instant, I need you like I’ve never needed anyone else. It’s nothing you do on purpose, and I doubt you even realize it, which makes it even more powerful. But the best part is that when you flip that switch and I come to you, it doesn’t matter what you’re in the middle of doing, it’s like you need me, too.”

  “What can I say? I guess you just do it for me.” Probably not the most eloquent response I could’ve come up with, yet it was the best I could offer, considering the circumstances. If he wanted something more sincere, then he’d have to try again when I wasn’t flooded with post-orgasm endorphins.

  “That’s just it, Mercy. It’s more than sex. It’s the connection. The intimacy. It doesn’t matter how or when or where we do it, the intensity of being with you feels powerful enough to bring me back to life.” He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. “I can’t explain it.”

  “You don’t have to, because I understand what you’re saying.” I smiled when his surprised eyes found mine again. “I feel it too, Brogan. It’s like you’ve awakened a part of me I never knew existed. And I’m convinced you’re the only person capable of finding it.”

  The words I love you echoed in my head. Burned my tongue. Begged to be released. And even though I recognized the same sentiment in his eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to utter it aloud. Fear kept that admission under lock and key. Nevertheless, the closer we grew to one another, and the deeper our relationship became, the harder it was to refrain from telling him how I felt.

  I needed to be sure this time. For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, I refused to give him that part of me until I knew, without a doubt, this was love. I felt that it was, believed it was, and when I thought about it, I couldn’t imagine it being anything else. However, that didn’t stop the fear from taking over anytime I found myself at the cusp of saying those three little yet powerful words. It was as though my soul recognized the risk this time—not because of anything that had happened in my past, but because of who he was.

  Before anything else could be said between us, the oven timer sounded.

  “I should get that out before it burns.” I glanced between my legs. “And considering we prepare food on this counter, I should probably clean that up, too. As well as put my clothes back on.”

  Brogan pressed a kiss to my forehead and stepped away. After grabbing our discarded clothes off the floor, he handed me my panties and his T-shirt. I
had a feeling that if he could dress me however he wanted, I’d wear nothing but underwear and his shirts—and, obviously, nothing to bed at night.

  “I’ll clean up our mess over here while you deal with the dinner in the oven,” he said as he helped me off the counter. And with an easy smack to my bare ass, we once again fell into our comfortable routine, moving about with familiarity, as if we’d spent countless lifetimes dancing in sync with one another.

  “Were you planning to tell me about your meeting with Jordan? Or did you just hope you could distract me with amazing kitchen-counter sex?” I asked while mindlessly pushing a piece of chicken around the plate with my fork.

  Brogan set down his knife, except he didn’t say anything. I glanced up, and the moment my eyes met his, I realized he was waiting for my undivided attention before answering my question. So I abandoned the chicken hockey and focused solely on the man across the table.

  “The amazing kitchen-counter sex wasn’t a diversion. I came home, saw you, and couldn’t help myself.” His brows jumped, and a slightly devious grin toyed with one corner of his lips. “With that being said…I haven’t mentioned Jordan because it was uneventful. I gave him the receipt and agreement; he signed it, and I left.”

  Something felt off, though I didn’t have a reason to doubt him. Chalking it up to paranoia over the thought of Jordan and Brogan in the same room together, I nodded and dropped the worry. “Well, that’s good. At least it’s all over, right?”

  “Yeah.” Again, his reaction seemed like there was more, yet he chose to keep it to himself. Finally, after a few long seconds of silence and staring, he took a deep breath and asked, “What was your relationship with Jordan like?”

  That meant more had happened beyond Brogan giving him the papers and Jordan signing them. I could question it, or I could answer him and hope that, through his inquiries, I’d learn where his curiosity came from. I chose to give him what he wanted. “Um…normal, I guess. Nothing exciting. It was what I assumed most relationships were like.”