“You mean the chicken?” I tease him, feeling his tongue rasp along my skin, tasting me, testing my mood.
“What chicken? I’ve got my hands and senses full of you, and only you. Tastes good, too.” Jack bites my skin enough to sting, but not leave any marks, then follows that up with gentle kisses. His hands trace my body, lingering on the line of my spine, curving around my hip. After all my pushing away, Jack still wants me.
I turn in his arms and place my palms around his face. Jack’s hands skirt the sides of my dress, grazing close to my breasts. A fluttering ache I’ve been missing slowly blossoms, like a bud pushing through snow. I want this so badly, my mouth waters. As I open my lips to kiss, bite, laugh with joy, the phone rings.
It’s a moment before we are capable of shaking off the passion. The incessant ring of the phone penetrates the air. “I think…” I lick my dry lips, sad the moment is gone. “I think maybe we need to answer that.”
Jack sucks in a deep breath and reaches for the cordless phone on the counter behind me. He presses the button with force and growls, “Hello?”
I can see his cock straining against his pants, so whatever the news is, it sure as hell interrupted a happier moment. When Jack’s body stiffens and he clenches his jaw, I know the call is not good. I grab the glass of wine and take a fortifying sip to steady my nerves.
“Who is it?” I whisper, afraid to ask. Jack looks at me and hands me the phone. Our fingers touch, but without the heat of a few moments ago.
“It’s the prosecutor’s office. They want you to testify against him. They want to review your statement.”
The tone of Jack’s voice tells me several things. One, he still thinks about this as much as I do, and two, he still feels responsible for what happened. I’m sick. I’m upset. I’m a swirl of emotions. The desire I felt has evaporated into thin air as if it never existed. Now I’m exhausted, deflated, and ready to hide from the world.
With shaky hands, I take the phone, and Jack finishes his wine in one gulp. “This is Edith,” I whisper.
Jack
Rolling away from Edie gets harder and harder every time. I figure taking a shower is one of my few options before I drive myself crazy with wanting her. Edith asks me to take my time and, as I wash the weariness of the day away, I wonder what she has planned. For the first time in weeks, I saw the first spark of mischievousness in her eyes. I would happily bankrupt myself if it meant I could see her smile like that every day.
After my shower and dressing, I walk into my office, letting her marinate her plans, whatever they may be. I can hear her clanging around in the kitchen. Edith is no chef, but she’s mastered a few simple, delicious meals. However, even if it was on fire and tasted like crap, I would still eat it. It’s the very reason I secretly keep a pack of Tums and other remedies in the downstairs bathroom. I check my email and respond back to my PA, Tom, who is finalizing details for our trip. I hear Edith go into the cellar and I can no longer concentrate. I decide to watch her from the doorway until she grants me permission to enter her space.
She comes up from the cellar, shutting the door behind her, clutching the bottle of wine. It’s one of my favorites, but my absolute favorite is a challenging young woman wearing a red dress that leaves little to the imagination. When she places the bottle on the counter, I can see the moment she realizes I’ve been standing there, watching her. Her glance is all the permission I need. She wouldn’t have put on such a sexy dress if she didn’t want me to act on my feelings for her. Edith isn’t coy by nature, and misreading her signals now would do nothing but push us a million steps backwards. Slowly, I stand behind her, breathing in her scent. My arms trap her against the counter and when she backs up against me, I’m a goner. Running her fingers through my hair, our mumbled words cement in my mind that I will have Edith tonight. Her skin pebbles in goosebumps as I kiss and nip at her. She intoxicates me like no other and, for one blessed night, I want nothing more than to shut out our problems. She’s responsive and eager, making my blood pool below. The fire I tried to extinguish in the shower earlier is back in full force. I want to touch every part of her. It’s sublime. It’s perfect.
Right until the fucking phone rings…
My mind rages an internal battle until Edith urges me to answer it. I want to rip the fucking wires from the
wall. Growling into the phone, I realize it’s Sam from the prosecutor’s office. He needs to speak to Edith about the case against Daniel because they want her to testify. Our nightmare seems to be awakening all over again. Begrudgingly, I pass the phone to Edith. I don’t want her to do this, but I may not have any choice in the matter. I know the nightmares that leave her in a cold sweat and whimpering into her pillow will return and she will shut me out again. It’s so fucking unfair. If I could take away the hurt, I would.
Her fingers tense around the phone. I watch her carefully as I pour us each a full glass of wine. She nods her head a few times, grimacing, and I lightly touch her back. When she walks away from me, the hurt isn’t mistaken. My chest feels like it’s being ripped open all over again. In my head, I hear her screams for help beyond the door I had to replace at her apartment. It should never have gotten to that point, and I feel the impotence of my existence all over again. Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy.
Chapter Fourteen
Edith
Last night, I agreed to meet with Sam Autumns, the assistant prosecutor working my case, to make an addendum to my formal statement and review my testimony. Daniel is being charged with simple assault, sexual contact, and criminal mischief for attacking me and destroying my apartment. He could potentially face a maximum of only six months in jail and a thousand dollar fine. Whenever Jack hears that’s all Daniel can get…technically, he’s a first-time offender, which just means it’s the first time he’s been caught or arrested…he becomes livid.
I have a hard time coming to grips with that reality. If his lawyer is good, he could probably be out in less than six month, free to do as he pleases. I know Sam wants to win this case, but sitting in the conference room and discussing the charges being downgraded to disorderly conduct with no jail time, 120 hours of community service, and a five hundred dollar fine just doesn’t equate to the emotional shit this event has caused in my life. The slow wheels of the justice system seem pretty damn unfair.
“Ms. Willows…” Sam snaps me back to attention. “Edith, it is really important we have all the details we need to proceed.”
“I understand that, but besides my statement, there is nothing else I can tell you.”
“So there is nothing that would jeopardize your credibility on the stand if we decide to pursue this with a court trial?” Sam is looking at me with an intense expression, making me wonder what he knows about my relationship with Jack. I don’t want him to get in trouble.
Instead of verbalizing an answer, I shake my head.
“Edith, the defense is going to use whatever tactics they can to discredit you. I know you’re living in Jack’s house right now, but I just don’t know in what capacity.” Sam is kind and almost grandfatherly, but he’s still an agent of the court. My deepest fear is that Jack will be held responsible for this and everything else that’s happened.
“I won’t bring anyone else into this. If you are okay with that, great. If not, I can’t help you prosecute Daniel Munson.” On shaky legs, I stand up to leave.
Sam grabs my hand, squeezing it gently. “I want to prosecute that son of a bitch.”
I nod and clutch my purse closer to my body, as if that will protect me, and leave his office. I walk down the hall, dazed, the soft thump of my boots hitting the glossy, grey tiles. I think about calling Shelby or Aiden, reaching into my purse for my phone. When I round the corner, I bump into someone. I drop my purse, my phone falling to the floor, and the man drops his briefcase. As we bend to pick them up, I recognize him immediately, my heart freezing.