Untimely You (13 page)

I cut her ramblings off with another kiss that has my softening cock sparking back to life. “Let me show you how amazing sex can be then. For tonight, I want to be your whole world.”

She palms my cheek and her eyes glisten. “It’ll be hard to wake up tomorrow and pretend this never happened.”

I clench my eyes closed. “I know. Boy, do I fucking know.”

I was a coward.

A fucking fool.

The moment the early morning sun came through the small round window, I woke up and wanted to run from my actions the night before. I’d taken a moment though to stare at her creamy curves. The blanket had been pulled away, and her tits were freed. Small purple bruises marred her pretty flesh, and my cock had bobbed with excitement. I craved to wake her up with my mouth on her pussy. After fucking her relentlessly through the night, I’m sure it was sore and I’d gladly have kissed it all better.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I brushed a soft kiss on her cheek and hurried to locate my clothes. Like the pussy I am, I ran away.

“More coffee Mistah Hocksted?” Yvette questions from the doorway, interrupting my thoughts from earlier this morning.

I lift my face from where it was buried in my palms and look up at my housemaid. “Yes, please. Thank you, Yvette.”

She arches a dark brow at me. “Lookin’ a little worse for the wear, boy. Been up to no good, I tell ya.”

I cringe at her words and dart a glance over at Chrissy. My wife doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. And my pattering heart slows.

“Just out celebrating with Eric about a deal we finally closed. Drank a little too much. More coffee sounds great, and if you can scrounge me up some bacon and eggs, I’d be grateful.”

She smiles warmly at me. “You’s a wound up awfully tight. A night off was well deserved. That new nurse Denise is a gooden. She looks after the missus quite nice. I think more nights off are in your future.” She winks at me knowingly and once again, my gaze flicks over to Chrissy.

“Thank you.”

She leaves and I clutch Chrissy’s cool hand. “Hey, baby. How are you doing today?”

The machines continue their melodic cadence and of course she doesn’t answer me.

“Damien will be home in a couple of weeks. I know he misses you. It will be nice to spend Christmas together.”

More silence.

“Chrissy, I have to tell you something…”

My throat aches with emotion and the urge to cry.

“I’ve been unfaithful to you.”

I wait for it. An increase in her heart rate. A flinch. A fluttering of her eyelids or a wiggling toe. Anything. I wish I could rewind back to before the accident to a time she could scream at me, hurt me, hate me.

But she doesn’t do anything.

I swallow. “Babe, do you understand? I was weak. I slept with someone else. I’m so unhappy and…” Neesy makes me happy. “I made a mistake.”

Nothing.

“Jesus, I wish you would just bitch me the fuck out! I wish you’d threaten divorce! I’d do any-fucking-thing to hear you speak again.” I stand abruptly and throw my hands in the air. “I want to see the look of contempt in your eyes. Anything because that would mean you were you!”

Silence.

Echoes of my own voice ring in my ears.

“Mistah Hocksted, come and get you summa this breakfast ‘for it gets cold,” Yvette says from the doorway. “And maybe today’s a gym day. Take them demons out and whip ‘em into shape.”

I nod and wave her on. “I’ll be there in a second.”

When she leaves, I check my phone for the millionth time this morning. Has she even woken up? Does she know I’m gone yet? Is Eric nursing her wounds?

My blood bubbles with rage.

I want to be the one to hold her.

My eyes skim back over to Chrissy and my heart aches. For the first time in my marriage, I’m beginning to feel the tug in another direction. Twelve years I have been anchored to this bed with her. And I thought I deserved it for what I did. I probably do deserve it. But the selfish part of me has risen to the surface and begs to be indulged. It makes me the worst person on the planet.

Yet, I still need to hear from her.

Quickly, before I lose my nerve, I text her a message.

Me: I’m sorry.

It takes a few minutes but she responds.

Crazy: Me too. Am I fired?

A smile stretches across my face. Even despite what I’ve done to her, she still maintains her sense of humor.

Me: No, I still need you.

As soon as I hit send, I cringe at how that might be misinterpreted.

Crazy: Right…Monday through Friday. I remember the agreement. But for the record…

My heart stops beating, and I hold my breath as I wait for her to finish her statement.

Crazy: I won’t forget last night.

Heat washes over me and I run a hand through my hair.

Me: Me neither. Still friends?

Crazy: Something like that. ;)

I tuck my phone back in my pocket and my smile falls when my gaze finds my wife. She lies there just the same. An ache forms in my chest. I want her to suddenly wake up. To become my wife again. But I know it’s a pipe dream. There’s no hope. There will be no coming back for her despite my desperate endeavors to keep her here.

The document stays locked tight in the safe. It will never see the light of day again. Plenty of times over the years I’ve wondered what would have happened if I’d taken her off life support. Had she died twelve years ago, maybe I’d have moved on. Married someone else. Learned to love again. But every time my guilt hemorrhages and I’m infected by the self-hate of those thoughts. What sort of bastard wishes their wife would just move on?

Not this bastard.

Which is why, after last night, I simply have to lock up my feelings for Neesy and focus on the commitment to my wife. We’ve come this far, and I owe it to her to see it to the end. Neesy could have been that woman for me if Chrissy had actually died. But that’s not what happened. I caused all of this to happen, so I deserve to suffer in this hell I created.

It’s only fair.

My thoughts drift to a few weeks before the accident, and I sink back into the chair.

“Adrian, we need to talk.” Chrissy’s lips purse together in a firm line and she folds her arms across her chest in a defensive way.

I scrub my face with my palm and shoot her a withering look. “Now, babe? I’m fucking beat. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

I’ve been putting in long hours with Eric trying to land the Nelson deal. If we play our cards right and buy the company at the right price, we’ll make a shitload of money when we sell after six months to an interested buyer. It’s all a gamble and a lot of negotiations but it’ll be worth it in the end.

“No. It can’t wait.”

I huff and storm toward the shower yanking clothes off along the way. “I’m showering. We can talk later.”

She scurries behind me. “We need to talk now!”

I shove down my boxers and turn to glare at her. My nakedness used to turn her on. Lately, she seems immune. “So talk goddammit.”

Tears well in her eyes and she slaps me. Fucking slaps me!

“You’re not the man I married.”

I frown, taken aback by her words, and reach for her. “Chrissy…”

“Stop,” she shrieks and backs away. “You’re never here, Adrian. And when you are, you’re not. You have a son in there who worships you and most days out of the week, you don’t even see him before he goes to bed. Then, on the weekends, you’re too damn busy working to even give him three seconds of your time.”

“Chrissy…”

“No! We’re talking about this now,” she bites out. “And me, I’m like an afterthought. When you’re horny, which is hardly ever these days, you whisper sweet shit and fuck me before you go to sleep. But other than that, I get nothing from you. You eat microwaved leftovers from dinners you couldn’t make it to. You are home late and leave at the crack of dawn. You’re obsessed with your company, and it is tearing your family apart.”

I don’t like the direction her words are taking us. “Baby, please.”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I can’t brush it under the rug any longer. I need you to step up or step out.”

Her words gut me and I stand there in shock. I could never leave her—never leave my son. This isn’t happening.

“Chris, baby, listen. I’m almost done with this deal and I promise things are going to change. It’s just really bad timing. I love you.”

She scoffs. “I’m so sorry that my meltdown is untimely for you. So inconvenient for Mr. Career Man!”

I need to touch her. I need her to feel what I feel. To see that this is all in her head—my love has never waned.

Striding toward her, I capture her in my arms. My mouth finds hers, and she fights me at first. But soon, our bodies connect like always, and she kisses me angrily. Her nails scratch and claw at me but her legs wrap around me. I push her against the wall and grind against her while I kiss her with all the passion in my soul.

I can’t lose her.

Not now.

Not ever.

She’s my wife until the end.

“Baby,” I murmur between kisses, my cock pressing into her sweet spot through her panties under her nightgown. “Give me more time. I will pull back where I can. I will make you and Damien a priority. But please, for the love of Christ, don’t give up on me.”

I tug her panties to the side and then push my cock into her. Her moans lose their fiery edge and soon become pleas for release. As I make love to my wife, I pleasure her body in all the ways I know she loves. She comes hard around my cock, and I empty myself into her.

Give me more time, baby.

I can fix us.

“I love you, Chrissy.”

She draws back and a sweet smile graces her pretty lips. “I love you too, Adrian.” Her smile falls. “But this only puts a Band-Aid on things.”

“I know. I won’t give up, baby.”

A sniffle jerks me from the memory, and I flick my gaze over to my wife who looks nothing like the one from my past. I realize, with disappointment, that I’m the one sniffling, not her. My cheeks are wet from tears and my chest hurts so fucking much.

We
didn’t
have more time.

I
did
give up.

She would have been better off leaving me that night. Instead, I selfishly kept her longer. And then, after the accident, I kept her indefinitely. I’m still holding on to her.

I’m a fucking monster.

“D
ad, I promise, it is fine.” My lie comes out easily but holding back the tears is harder. He’s come to visit me for Christmas every year, even when I was taking care of my grandmother. Despite it not being his mother, and my mom’s instead, he still treated her like family. Mom’s been gone since I was fifteen—breast cancer—so he’s been the ultimate parent.

Until he married the she-devil.

Annie.

“It’s not fine, Neesy,” he says with a sigh, “but I promised her we’d go visit her kids in Vancouver. Morgan just had another baby this summer, and Annie wants to see her.”

I want to ask him how come I wasn’t invited but bite my tongue. It isn’t his fault his new wife of two years is a conniving bitch.