Page 8 of Plenty Of…

CHAPTERFOUR

Ten minutes turns into dinner, and if I could explain how that happened, I would. But one minute I was huffing and puffing while changing out of my work clothes, and the next Forbes had ordered food from the Italian place around the block and had it delivered with a bottle of wine. Even plied with my favorite pizza — he remembered — and my favorite wine —fucker remembered that too — I have yet to budge in what has to be one of the longest stretches of silence ever. And I’m not silent by nature. I’m loud, and vocal, and if I have an opinion, the whole world is going to hear about it, but I refuse to say a damn word to this man, even if he’s feeding me. As it is, he’s made himself far too comfortable in my home. Having removed his coat while I was changing, he’s now leaning against my counter, the kitchen island between us, sipping wine like he has every right to be here. Even Chocolate has warmed up to him. Traitor.

“You’re sexy when you glare,” Forbes remarks, his mouth lifting up on one side. I chew harder, knowing I’m going to break a tooth pretty soon. I take longer to swallow than I usually would because I know I won’t able to keep quiet if he goads me. Which he’s already doing.

“So a dating app, huh?” He drains his wine, and then pours himself another glass. I have yet to touch mine because the dumbest thing I can do is get drunk around him. Granted, I’m brimming with questions, but right now it’s a battle of wills, and —

“I thought you’d be married by now,” he continues. “Or in a serious relationship at least.”

Chew. Chew. Chew. There’s nothing left to chew, so swallow. Cross my arms. Glare some more. And then I lose that battle of wills because, “What are you doing on a dating app? I doubt there’s a shortage of women throwing themselves at you.” DAMNIT! I was doing so well.

“I couldn’t delete it,” he shrugs, a smug smile on his handsome face. His lips are tinged with the dark red of the wine, and it’s difficult not to stare. “But for a while, I did use it. For work purposes, same as you.”

“All I needed was a date to the gala, it’s not like I was planning on sleeping with my date.” It spills out like word vomit, and even to my own ears I sound defensive. “I would never use an app for that, so don’t insult me by assuming we were on there for the same reasons.”

“I also needed a date,” he replies, assessing me. “And then I found you.”

“I’m not going with you, Forbes. In fact, I doubt I’m going at all. I’d rather we not be at that event together.” I straighten when he places his empty wine glass in the sink, and rounds the kitchen island to where I’m standing. I suck in a breath, unprepared for how visceral my physical response to him is. My nipples are saluting him I’m sure, and had I been wearing underwear beneath my leggings, they’d probably be wet. Even angry, I’m turned on. And still, I have so many questions. I want him to leave, it’ll be better if he does, but now that he’s here, I’m sort of at a loss. He was the first man I fell in love with, the first man I had sex with, made love to. And he was the first man who not only broke my heart, but my spirit. Being someone’s dirty little indiscretion can do that.

“I must admit, after ten years I expected a warmer welcome, Avril. Yet, all I can sense is anger.” He tilts his head. “Why is that?”

The cavalier way he asks me that is what eventually does me in and sets me off, and the explosion isn’t pretty.

“Angry? You think I’m angry? How arrogant of you, Forbes! You think I still care about you after ten years? After you filled my head with promises, and then snapped me in two without looking back?” I shove him, as hard as I can, but it’s difficult to move a man his size. “Fuck you!” He stumbles back, but only an inch or two. “Fuck you for the hell you put me through, for fucking me and then going back to your wife like I was just an itch to scratch, a child with nothing more than fantasies about a man who isn’t even real!”

My breathing is choppy, but holy hell, getting that off my chest feels good, even if I’m still pissed. His unexpected reappearance has resurrected all the things I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because he left, and I fell apart, and I couldn’t tell my dad because I was protecting Forbes. And how foolish of me to assume that seeing him again wouldn’t trigger me all over again. I step back, and drop my hands from his chest, but he’s quick to grab hold of my wrists. “It was more complicated than that, Avril. And believe me, I never thought I’d see you again, but when I saw your profile on that piece of shit app, I just had to know.”

The energy around us is vibrant, and hot, and angry, and aroused and I can feel my eyes burning, my throat closing up. Me, at eighteen, poking her head out from behind a corner, just to get a peak at the man who discarded her when he’d had his fill.

“Had to know what?” I ask, hating the tremor in my voice. The very few times I thought about what it would be like to see him again, I was always flippant in my daydream. Like seeing him would be no big deal. And I believed it. I really did. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be further from the truth, and I hate that.

“Had to know if you’d moved on,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “From me.”

Snatching my wrists from his grasp, I step back. The need to protect myself wars with desire, and the result is a push-pull I’m very fast losing control of.

“You’re ancient history,” I reply. “I forgot all about you the moment you said we were over.” My heart kicks behind my ribcage, recognizing the lie for what it is. I swallow, and shake my head. “I want you to leave.” I turn my back, ready to walk him to my front door, when his next words make me halt.

“I never did,” he says. “Get over you. I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving you, and not because I was married, but because you were too young, Avril. And I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“You did,” I admit. “You did ruin me, Forbes. But like I said, it’s ancient history.”

I wait, without turning to face him, and then freeze when I feel his hands land on my hips, and slide over my stomach. He’s at my back, every hard inch of him, and it’s next to impossible to think straight. I let out a weighted breath, and tilt my head to the side on auto-pilot when he lowers his head, and inhales, brushing his nose up my neck to behind my ear. Damnit it all to hell! This isn’t supposed to be happening, I’m supposed to tell him to fuck right off, climb back on the donkey he rode into town on, and just be gone. Instead, I’m allowing his hands to dip beneath the waistband of my leggings, and my shirt, and reacquaint himself with the body of a woman I now have.

“I can’t sleep with you,” I tell him. “You hurt me, Forbes, and you don’t get to show up out of nowhere after all this time, and—” I suck in a breath when one hand cups my breasts, and the other cups my over-eager vagina. “And pretend you know who I am,” I finish. My hips sway, and I arch my back. “Forbes, I can’t.”

“I do know who are,” he whispers against my ear. “I always have.” I mewl when his finger slides through my lips, and over my clit, while he plucks a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I’ll give him that much, he can multi-task. “The biggest mistake I have ever made,” he kisses my neck, “was leaving you.”

It’s everything I didn’t know I was waiting to hear, and everything that obliterates my resolve. I spin in his arms, and kiss him. He’s the same, but also not. So much is familiar, but so much is new. With hands behind my thighs, he lifts me up, and somewhat haphazardly finds the master bedroom. I manage to divest him of his shirt in the process, and pull mine off too. Chest-to-chest, it’s unreal. I’m gasping for air while he kisses me, holding me in place by the nape of my neck, and a hand squeezing my ass cheek. My hands are in his hair, pulling at the strands, and then sliding over his broad shoulders and down his straining biceps. I should stop this, I know that, but God, I don’t have it in me. He stops at the edge of my bed, and breaks our kiss, looking at me with lust-filled eyes. My own eyes are wide, my chest rising and falling, and, “You stopped.”

He swallows, the thick column of his throat working. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” I’m going to murder him if he’s having second thoughts. After all the texting, and the showing up here, I should be the one having second thoughts. It strikes me then that ten years ago, I was the one pursuing him. And now he’s pursuing me.

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve thought about this moment a thousand times?” I search his gaze for the lie. The untruth. The fabrication of his feelings for me just so he can fuck me. I can’t find it.

I lick my bottom lip, and reply, “Only a thousand? That’s only a hundred times a year since…”

Knowing where I’m going with this, he finishes, “I left you.” His smile is sad when he adds, “I’ve wanted to call you, Avril. So many times, but I thought—”