Pulling into the parking lot of the kids’ school, I park and jump out to grab their bags.
“Okay, don’t forget to hand the permission slip in to Mr. Andrews, Charlie.” I pass their bags over and then try to fix his messy brown hair.
“Mom, stop,” he hisses.
“But did you even brush it this morning? It looks like you just rolled out of bed,” I say as I try to smooth it back down again. It’s cute how much it’s like his father’s, but it’s not exactly sexy-sophisticated on a nine-year-old boy in a school where appearance is important.
Greta giggles at Charlie’s annoyed expression behind her hand.
“Shut it, pip-squeak,” he growls at her.
“Hey!” I admonish. “What did I tell you about speaking to her like that?”
“Sorry,” he mutters.
I kiss them both and watch as they run inside as the bell rings. Then wave to Lola, who has to work today and is trying to drink her coffee while navigating the mass of traffic, all trying to leave the lot at the same time.
“Call me,” she mouths.
I nod, turning around and about to climb back in my car when I spot Fiona standing next to it.
“Hey, honey,” she says warmly. “Wanna grab a coffee?”
I groan. “Ugh, I wish. I could do with five of them this morning. But it’s my day at the shelter.” I wince in apology. “How about later this week? Come over to my place, maybe?” I feel like we haven’t caught up much these past few months, but that’s life. Always stealing time from you before you even realize it’s happened.
She beams. “Okay, sure, but I’ll hold you to it, Lia. I need girl time,” she says dramatically. I laugh and tell her to text me before I climb in and start the drive to Rayleigh.
The sun is shining particularly bright through my tinted windows, and I find myself longing for winter if only to feel like I haven’t wasted so much time cooped up inside my own head during what was supposed to be my favorite season.
I’m not doing that anymore. It’s time to make me happy again. Somehow.
It’s been four days since I told Leo about my non-existent affair. And nothing has changed. I wonder if he knew I was lying, or if he just thinks that I could never do such a thing. And that stupidly reckless part of me wants to rise to the challenge and bait him some more by actually having one. But I’m scared. And the scariest part isn’t even the thought of being with another man. No, it’s the fear of Leo truly not caring at all.
I flick my turn signal on, waiting for someone to pull out into the flow of traffic before taking their spot a few shops up from the shelter. Flipping down my visor, I fluff my hair and check to make sure no remnants of breakfast remain around my mouth. Satisfied, I flip it up and grab my purse, jumping out of the car to find a pair of amused green eyes watching me. Jared shifts from leaning against the back of my car. How the hell did I not notice he was there?
“Morning, Blondie.” He moves in and smiles down at me. “No need to check yourself for me. You’d still be beautiful wearing a garbage bag.”
My lips curve into a smile. “Morning, trouble. Let’s go; I’m running a few minutes late, so I know that means you’re even later.”
I lock the car and drop my keys in my purse as he falls into step beside me.
“I love the way you worry about me, but Glenda loves me, so don’t sweat it.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so full of it.”
He chuckles. “Come on. Places to be, mouths to feed.” He opens the door for me, and we walk out the back to sign in.
“Jared Williams,” Glenda huffs with her hands on her hips by the storeroom door.
Jared turns up the charm. “Morning, Glendie. Has anyone ever told you that purple is most definitely your color?” He gestures to her purple t-shirt.
She turns a little red in the face and waves her hand at him. “Oh, you sneaky thing. Get moving then, but be warned, I’ll be watching the clock next time.”
He beams at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Were you late because you were waiting on me?” I ask as we wash our hands.
He shakes his head, grabbing some paper towels. “Yes and no. Had some shit to check in on this morning.”
Frowning, I wonder what he has to check in on before nine thirty in the morning.
“Like what?” I blurt as I tug my hair net and apron on.
He does the same. “My shop.”
“Shop?” I ask.
“Yep.” He pops the p then sighs before continuing, “I run a custom bike and car shop a few blocks from here.”
Oh, wow. Though I don’t know why I’m shocked. Just because he’s had a run-in with the law doesn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t have some kind of normal life outside of having to volunteer here. “What’s it called?”
He snaps his gloves on then opens the fridge, bending to grab some vegetables. And yep, I end up staring as his jeans fall farther down over his boxer briefs. His shirt rides up, showing a sliver of skin. “Surface Rust,” he says, standing and closing the door. A knowing smile on his face tells me he knows I was looking at his ass. I flush then realize what he said. “Wait, what?” A little snort escapes my mouth. “That’s the name of your business?”
He shrugs, placing everything on the counter. “What can I say? Too many jaeger bombs and a good joint or two used to do wonders for my creative side.” He grabs a knife and a chopping board. “Besides, the name hasn’t turned away any customers yet.”
I grab some gloves and pull them on. “How do you swing that? Working there and here?”
He stares down at the food. “I do what I need to.” His tone lightens again as he continues, “Got a great team of guys helping out at the shop, too, so that helps.”
Nodding, even though he’s not looking at me, I grab the meat out of the fridge, and we work in comfortable, yet strangely charged silence for a while. I try to think of something to say to break the tension, but he beats me to it.
“Have you been thinking about my offer?”
Glancing around to make sure no one is within hearing distance, I whisper, “Shhh, and no.”
He just grins down at the counter. “You sure about that?”
“I am,” I answer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He’s quiet for a moment before finally responding. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you instantly knew what I was asking you just now.”
Swallowing hard, I avert my eyes back to the task at hand as my breathing turns choppy. I’m determined to ignore the curiosity and hurt that seem intent on sending me spiraling into something I shouldn’t even be thinking about—let alone doing.
We’re quiet again, but over the next half hour, he takes every opportunity to brush his arm or hand against mine, causing the tiny hairs all over my body to rise with awareness. He even goes so far as to brush his hand over my ass before he slips what I think is a piece of paper into my apron.
I keep preparing lunch, waiting until I go to the bathroom to read it.
Once I do, I open it to find that all it says is: The Green, room twenty-two.
My heart stills and almost stops beating as I piece together what he’s asking me.
Holy shit. I toss it in the trash can and wash my hands before making my way back out to the kitchen. There’s no way I could actually do it.
Could I?
He finds me alone in the hallway and walks right up to me.
“What do you say, Blondie? Ready to let me make your legs shake?” he whispers as he gets close enough to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
My mouth dries; my body is feeling absolutely ready.
But my heart? It’s pounding so fast, and I don’t even know why. In excitement? Guilt? Fear? I think it’s an unhealthy combination of all three.
“Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like anyone is ever going to know. Just you”—he runs his finger over the shell of my ear—“and me.”
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Don’t do it, Dahlia. Do not do it.
Call Lola.
My head’s nodding before I’ve even unraveled my thoughts. My conscience is screaming at me. But this stupid need for some form of happiness and vengeance, I don’t even know—wins out.
“Just … just once, okay?” My voice breaks as I meet his heated gaze.
He nods, eyes darting between mine. “Sure. I’ll meet you there.”
As he walks off, I try my best not to run back into the bathroom and hyperventilate. I force myself back to the kitchen where I finish my shift with shaking hands.
Once the clock hits eleven thirty, I sign off, say goodbye, and make my way over to the run-down hotel a few streets away. I decide to leave my car out on the street instead of in the parking lot. Doing so makes me feel dirtier than even agreeing to this. But I told Leo I was having an affair, and he said to do whatever I want. He didn’t do or say anything to stop me.
I take a deep breath and climb out, trepidation filling every step I take to room twenty-two. Jared opens the door before I even get there, and I didn’t realize how much I must have dragged my feet until now. He grabs my hand and tugs me inside, locking the door behind me. I’d be scared if this were anyone else other than the man I’ve slowly gotten close to over the past month. But no, my gut churns for a whole variety of reasons instead.
He backs me into the door, tucking his face into my neck and inhaling deeply. The action causes my stomach to quiver.
“I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you,” he rasps.
I try to search for some bravado. “Well, now you can have … me,” I stammer.
He chuckles, the sound huskier than usual. “I know you’re terrified, but you can trust me.” He lifts his head, and his eyes ask me to believe him. And I do. I know he won’t hurt me. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be okay. Not at all.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he warns.
I try to talk, to say something, but his lips descend and land on mine before I can. My eyes close, and I try to adjust to the foreign feel of his mouth. He hesitantly parts my lips with his and licks at the underside of my top lip. My hands find their way into his hair as I tilt my head, allowing his tongue more access.
He groans. “You taste like heaven,” he says into my mouth. “I bet you do everywhere.”
A moan escapes me at the thought of his mouth tasting me everywhere. He tastes like tobacco and spearmint. The vast difference from Leo should shock me, but it doesn’t. It has me tangling my tongue with his as my body grows so heated that I feel as though I might burst into flames at any minute.
We’re soon stumbling around the room, undressing each other while trying to keep our mouths fused together. “Just sex,” I breathe as he stares down at my almost naked form with wonder in his eyes while I lie on the scratchy, threadbare comforter on the queen-size bed.
“Whatever you say, Blondie,” he mutters against my skin as he dips his head to pull my lace panties from me with his teeth. I know this is wrong. That desperation mixed with a healthy dose of heartache could cause a recipe for disaster. But I can’t bring myself to give a damn. Not when I’ve been starved for so long. Not when his rough hands are gliding down the insides of my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“So fucking beautiful. You’ve had two kids?” he asks in disbelief.
I nod. “There’s evidence, so don’t look too hard,” I say jokingly as I reach for him. I need to stop reality from trying to enter this dimly lit hotel room.
He bats my hand away, tracing his fingers over the scar from my C-sections then some of the fine stretch marks around my hips and on the tops of my thighs. “Found them.” He grins up at me.
He’s taking too long. “Are we doing this or what?”
I need to do this. The longer we wait, the more I’m afraid that I might back out.
He tsks. “Let me look my fill. It’s not every day a man comes across graceful looking curves of this perfection.” He kisses my hip, moving in to dip his tongue into my belly button, making me giggle and arch off the bed.
“Stop!” I pant.
He does, and I open my eyes to see him leaning over me, almost nose to nose. “This needs to come off.” He glares at my bra like it’s offending him. “Show me those tits, Blondie.”
The crass statement has me growing even wetter. I swallow hard, unclasping it and slowly pulling the straps down my arms. He leans on one arm to throw it across the room until it lands somewhere on the floor with my other articles of clothing. My eyes fall to the tattoos on his arms—the intricate shading of tombstones and roses. He couldn’t be more different from Leo if he tried. And for some reason, I’m immensely pleased by this fact.
He leans down, making my hips buck from the bed and connect with his hardness as he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks.
“Oh, God …” I gasp.
“No, baby, just me.” He chuckles, and I slap his shoulder.
“You’re a turd.”
He laughs quietly, shifting to rub his lips over my other nipple. “I’ve been called many things in my life, but I can honestly say that a turd is not one of them.”
“Shut up.” I laugh.
Lifting his head, he connects our mouths. His tongue slips inside and gently skims along mine. He leans on his side, dragging a finger around my breast before squeezing it and trailing his fingers over the dips of my stomach to the top of my mound.
That’s when I start to shake; when reality decides to slap me upside the head. But he doesn’t notice. His finger slowly parts me and trails through my wetness, eliciting a shiver and fogging my mind with pleasure once again. He drags the wetness around my clit, and I moan as he dips his finger inside, teasing me and making my hips rock as my need to come builds rapidly. Finally, he thrusts a finger all the way in, nipping my chin and thrusting in and out of me in a torturously slow rhythm.
“Feel good, Blondie?” he murmurs throatily with his lips now sucking at my neck.
I suck in a breath in response, and he picks up speed, circling his thumb over my clit. That’s all it takes for the magic to happen. I come apart with a silent cry, my legs indeed shaking as they try to clamp around his hand and stars flash behind my closed eyelids.
When I open them, I find him grinning down at me. “That was one of the best things I’ve ever fucking seen.”
I try to catch my breath, my mind starting to un-fog.
“It really has been a while, hasn’t it?” He frowns.
I manage a nod, squeezing my eyes closed.
Holy fuck.
I just came on another man’s hand.
I had an orgasm, courtesy of someone other than my husband.
And to make matters even worse, a sob escapes me. I move away from Jared to sit up, covering my mouth with a hand and looking for my clothes.
“Hey, hey …” He gently grabs my arm and pulls me back down on the bed. “Come here.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I bury my face in his chest as I’m wracked by sob after embarrassing sob.
This can’t be me; this can’t be my life right now.
But it is. And I’ve gone and done it to myself.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, kissing my head and stroking my hair. “It’s okay, Blondie. I often have this effect on women. So good, they’re guaranteed to cry happy tears every damn time.”
I manage to laugh despite the hiccupping and sniffling.
“I’m so sorry.” I wipe my tears, and what I hope to God isn’t my snot, from his hard pec. “You gave me that, and … and I just—”
He grabs my chin, tilting it up to make me look at him. I study the chiseled yet playful features of his face behind blurred eyes.
“Don’t. I knew this might not go as smoothly as I’d hoped. And to be honest, I’m still shocked as fuck that you even agreed to it.”
I give him a watery smile. “You’re a good man, trouble. Not a lot would know what to do with a crying lunatic in your position.”
He swipes a tear from under my eye with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, I just care about you, Blondie. Probably more than I should.” His brows pull in adorably as he says it. Smiling softly, I lean on an elbow and use my other hand to smooth the crease from between his brows. He brings my head back down to his chest, and I tuck it into his neck as he runs his calloused fingers up and down my back.
I’m more than aware that I’m doing—that I have done—something I can’t turn back from. But it feels too good to be cared for like this again for me to simply run out the door. Back to my cold house and even colder husband.
We lie in silence for a while, and I soon feel myself start to drift off to sleep before my eyes spring wide open. “Shit, the kids. I have to go before I’m late.”
He releases me, and I grab my clothes, scurrying into the shabby bathroom to dress. I try to fix my hair as best I can, hoping like hell that I have a brush in the car.
I’m about to leave the bathroom when I see it.
A hickey. Right underneath my earlobe.
My brown eyes look like they’re about to pop out of my head as I look in the mirror.
Shit, shit, fuck.
With nothing to be done about it now, I move my hair around to make sure it’s covered before racing back out to grab my purse.
“I’m sorry, so sorry. But I really do need to go. I’ll see you next week?” I say to the room in general as I focus on getting out of here. Jared comes up behind me and halts the door from opening with a hand.
“Not so fast, babe,” he says to my ear, spinning me around and bringing his mouth down to mine.
As soon as our lips touch, I pull away. “I can’t. I shouldn’t even be here …” I plead, backing myself up against the door. His lips tug into a tiny smile. Hooking an arm around my waist, he pulls me into his hard body.
“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “Go.”
I watch him for a second, feeling torn but knowing I can’t and don’t have the time to deal with that right now. He opens the door, and I run out to my car on the street. Climbing in, I check the time before I let my head drop into my hands.
Holy hell.
What have I done?
The pieces are falling, but now, I’m not so sure I want them to.