Chasing Him (Dark Love 4)

“You’re so fucking hot, and every woman in this room wants their hands on you. I’m not stupid, you need sex, and I’ve had way too much to drink,” I babble incoherently.

“Does every woman in this room want their hands on me?” His smirk leaves me breathless.

“Yes… no… I don’t know. Is Tooheys really just beer?”

He nods his head in amusement and turns to face the water. We remain quiet for a while as we both stare at the ocean. He asks me if I want to dance. I nod, and we make our way back into the room. Placing his arm around my waist, he pulls me in as the soft beats of Michael Bublé play in the background. I lean my head on his shoulder and enjoy the music until the song switches and ‘Unchained Melody’ is played.

Our wedding song.

A familiar, anxious feeling rushes through me. The weight of my decisions, where I stand, who I’m with instantly riddles me with guilt, and without even thinking, I pull away and run for the exit. Julian quickly follows me outside, watching me struggle to gulp for air.

“Adriana… what is it?” he asks in a panic.

“I want to go back to the hotel.”

“Okay, give me a minute. Stay right here, and I’ll just say goodbye.”

He enters the building, and with minutes passing, I walk toward the street and hail a cab back to the hotel as my tears fall freely—the weight inside my chest burdening my soul.

I hear my phone vibrate, but I ignore it, waiting until I’m alone in my room.

It’s not a long ride over the bridge but long enough for my guilt to manifest into something bigger. When the hotel is in view, I’m relieved, paying the driver and exiting quickly.

As soon as I’m back in my room and the door closes behind me, I break down in sobs and fall to the ground. In a feeble attempt, I pull out my cell and read the text sitting on the screen.

Julian: We need to talk.

I don’t respond, and it isn’t long before I hear the gentle knock on my door. I’m scared to open it, scared to see his face and feel the conflicted emotions swirling around me. I’m unable to rid myself of the wave of pain which rises and falls, depending on the tide.

Unlocking the hinge, I open it slightly, not looking at his face. Moving aside, he brushes past me but doesn’t enter much further. I lift my head to trace his body. His tie is removed, and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. With his chest slightly exposed, a stir awakens, and again, I’m conflicted. It’s been almost three years since I’ve been intimate with someone, and to make it worse, I have only ever been with one man.

One man.

The words ring in my head.

My eyes move up to his and reflecting back is worry. Great, now I feel like shit for making him worry about me.

“Adriana, what happened back there?” His soft tone calms me.

I don’t say a word, sick of this rollercoaster of pain. I do the unthinkable and grab his jacket so his body is flush with mine. I don’t give myself time to think, arching my neck as my lips trace his chin until they are firmly locked into his. There’s no resistance, the sweet taste of his tongue circling mine. His hands cup my face, the intimate touch causing this meltdown within me. I hear him moan and feel his hardness press against my stomach. This frenzy that’s consuming me forces me to move my hands toward his belt until I feel the warmth disappear from my face and his hands are gripping my wrist, pushing me away.

Out of breath, our lips unlock, and we’re both standing still, chests pumping loud, eyes wide.

“Adriana, we can’t.”

Confused and rejected, I answer back. “Wh… why? I want this,” I say unconvincingly.

He rests his hand on the wall behind me, towering over me in this tight confinement of the entrance. He closes his eyes, attempting to compose himself, fists clenching. “Because you’re not ready. Whatever happened back there upset you. I don’t want you to regret your actions.”

“You don’t want me to regret my actions?” I ask, taken aback. “Or are you scared you’ll picture Charlie instead of me?”

I watch his face drop, his lips press tight as he holds in his anger. Instantly, I feel ashamed for my pathetic accusation. What the fuck is wrong with me! I reach out to him once again in an apologetic gesture, but he flinches, and I know I’ve caused damage which can’t be erased no matter what I do right now.

“Here, this is for you. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” He opens the door, and I stand there numb as it slams it behind him.

My hands are shaking and within them sit his book. I walk over to the bed, falling instantly against the pillow as I allow myself to cry. Even in my exhausted state, the presence of his book beside me has me curious. I sit up against the bed and prop the pillows behind my back. Turning on the lamp, I lift the book and carefully open the insert. Written in bold is his personal message to me.

Adriana,