18. Market Confessions - Cash
She’s looking at an arrangement of sunflower bouquets several feet ahead. And what am I doing?
I’m watching her like a stalker.
She hasn’t spotted me yet, and I’m not sure if I should grab her attention, or duck out of the market before she sees me. It would be easy enough to disappear into the crowd.
“Those colors suit you,” I say, my treacherous mouth making the decision for me.
Jules tilts her head my way, and our eyes connect. She’s fingering the wrapping on one of the bouquets. “I love purple, and sunflowers are one of my favorites.”
“Really?” I raise my brows. “Not roses?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Too common. Sunflowers are underrated.”
So is the simplicity of touch. The breathlessness of desire. I’ve gone without both for too long, and it’s messing with my head.
Fucking with my heart.
Meandering down the flower display, she fingers the wrapping on several of the bouquets, as if putting out feelers for the one that belongs to her. I keep pace behind her, and every few steps, she flicks her gaze at me from over her shoulder.
When she looks at me like that—like I’m a sunflower in a world of black roses—my grip on control slips a little more, and I’m close to drowning in everything Jules. I span the distance between us until I’m standing right behind her. We’re unmoving—like stones in a flowing river of bodies. And we aren’t even touching, but the chemistry between us is tangible. I wonder if her breaths are as shallow as mine.
“What else is your favorite?”
Her fingers slip from a bouquet. “Huh?”
“Flowers,” I say, feeling as dazed as she sounds. “You said sunflowers are one of your favorites. What’s another?”
“Um…” Her body sways toward me, but rather than give her more room, I rock on the balls of my feet until we’re an inch closer. “Tulips. They remind me of my grandma.”
“Are they her favorite?”
“They were. She had every color you can imagine.” She pauses, lost in her memories. “When I was a kid, I used to balance on the bricks around the flower beds. It was like walking on the edge of a rainbow.”
The wistfulness in her voice tugs at me. “I bet you miss her.”
“All the time.”
People move around us at various speeds, some shuffling along while others dart past, too rushed to experience the beauty of sunflowers and the ghost of Jules’ tulips. Voices are lost in too many conversations, and footsteps echo in the pursuit of shopping.
None of it matters, because nothing else exists. In this moment, there’s only Jules and me.
Her magnetism, and my resolve melting like steel.
“I’m dying to touch you.”
A small gasp escapes her lips. “Then touch me.” Her voice is sultry perfection as she speaks the words I’m aching to hear.
One step is all it takes to bring my body against hers. I settle my hands on her waist before slowly moving them down to her hips. She feels so tiny in my large hands. Tender soft to my unyielding hard. And fucking hell, am I hard.
“I’m leaving for Oklahoma City tomorrow.” I slide my fingers to the waistband of her jeans. As I slip them under the hem of her shirt, a tiny shudder spreads through her. She leans into me, her back warming my front, from the top of her spine to her sexy-as-hell ass. I press my cock against the small of her back.
“I know, Cash.”
My name on her lips is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever heard. Dancing my fingers over her warm skin, I’m tempted to explore every inch. I inhale a sharp breath. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
“What about your wife? Are you going to miss her?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we did?”
“Probably, but please, Jules. Don’t ruin this moment.”
Five seconds pass, rife with her silence. “I’m going to miss you too.”
Holding her feels natural. It feels right. I gather her in the shelter of my arms, and she curls her hands around my forearms, the soft pads of her fingertips creating circles of fire on my skin. My heart is knocking against my ribcage, and I’m certain she feels every violent beat.
“I’ll text you, okay?”
She breaks free of my embrace, and we’re back to standing inches apart without touching. “What are we doing?” she asks, fiddling with the flowers again. “Nothing good is gonna come of this.”
I get what she’s saying, and as much as it hurts, I don’t blame her. Especially since she’s right. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Jules.”
“Maybe some time apart will be good for us. Give us both time to think about things…” Trailing off, she faces me with a gulp and wraps herself in the circle of her arms, as if to protect herself from me. “To think about where this is headed.”
As long as I’m still married, this is headed nowhere. It’s an ugly truth I don’t want to face. No matter what happens from here on out, someone is going to get hurt. “I know this isn’t fair to you,” I say.
Or to Monica.
That know-it-all-voice in my head is a bitch, because it’s telling me what I don’t want to hear; nothing can happen with Jules until I know where I stand in my marriage. Until I’ve given my all to salvaging what’s left of it. My father expects it. My conscience demands it. But my heart…well, that disloyal organ is already beating for the woman in front of me.
I’m fucking torn right down the middle.
“If life were fair, everyone would get what they want, right?” she says, tilting her head, blond hair sliding over her shoulder. “That would probably unbalance the cosmos or something.”
A smile twitches at the corners of my mouth. “I think the cosmos are already ten shades of unbalanced.” They have to be, to play such a cruel game. I pluck a bouquet from the display and give the attendant a twenty. “But you’re right about one thing,” I say, after we’ve wandered a few unhurried steps toward the exit of the market. “We do need to think about where this is headed.”
I hand her the flowers, and her lips part in surprise. I take advantage and kiss her on the cheek. “Don’t forget me while I’m gone, okay?”
Gazing into the bouquet, she tries to hide a smile but fails. “I couldn’t if I tried.”