Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose 2)

My eyes are closed, my nails digging into his shoulders from the intense and sudden sting. The mixture of pain and pleasure taking me that much higher.

His groan of satisfaction is addictive as his warm breath tickles my neck. His blunt nails dig into my hips as he holds me in place. “Bite down on my shoulder if you need to,” he warns me, whispering just beneath the shell of my ear and kissing me there, in that tender spot.

I hardly register what he’s said before he slams into me again, and again. Forcefully taking me, all the while I can’t breathe.

He fucks me like he wants to ruin me, and it’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.

With every thrust, he fucks me harder, pistoning his hips ruthlessly until he finds his release at the same time that I find mine.

I’m breathless and trembling when he’s done with me. My legs shake as he pulls out and the chill of the air replaces his warmth. He’s quick to kiss me and I’m quicker to reach up, grabbing his stubbled chin and holding him there so I can kiss him deeper, praying that my kiss tells him everything I’m too afraid to say.

He takes his time, using the blanket to clean me up and then dresses himself. I’m slow to do the same.

“So what do we do from here?” Brody asks me once the moment is gone and pulls me into his lap. My hair is far from salvageable and all I can hope is that I don’t look exactly like I feel: well fucked.

I nearly ask with what, then I remember everything else. The paternity test … me telling Robert and then Bridget. I have no idea … I wish I could give him the perfect answer. Instead my hand covers my eyes and I say, “If you’re looking for answers from me, I can’t give them to you. I barely have my own shit together.”

“Did you just cuss?” he questions me with a devilish grin that’s nothing short of handsome and a delighted tone. The heat in my cheeks rises higher from bashfulness as I hide my own smile. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you cuss.”

The tension eases, the nerves settle. It’s so easy with him. How can it be this easy with a man who’s lived his life without me in it? It still hurts to breathe, it still feels like I’m on the edge of falling and once the wind rushes beyond me, there’s no going back.

He asks, “Will you at least let me kiss you?”

Closing my eyes, I lean forward and whisper against his lips, “I can do that.”

Magnolia

The ping of my phone on the coffee table is barely heard over the sound of some cartoon playing on the TV in the background. Not that Bridget is watching it; she’s having tea with Kitty. I should turn it off, but my mind has been elsewhere.

The delicate chime may as well be a fire truck siren since that’s where my attention has been. Waiting for a text back from Robert.

Anxiety is my constant companion as I make my way from the kitchen to the living room. I plant my bottom down with disappointment onto the sofa as I read a text from my boss, a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other.

I’ve never called out of work until this past month. This is the second time, but Mandy doesn’t pry. Maybe she’s too hungover, or maybe she knows I’m going through some things. I’m not certain, but I am grateful. Grabbing the remote, I turn off the TV and find myself staring back down at my phone like it’s betrayed me.

I texted Robert that I want to talk to him. He saw the message, but didn’t respond.

My heart knows that he knows, and it hurts. I won’t pretend that it doesn’t.

I don’t want to be caught in the middle. I don’t want to use either of them. I can list a million things I don’t want, but the one thing I want isn’t possible.

I want everyone to be loved and happy. Robert deserves that and it kills me that I can’t provide it for him, when he’s done that for me in my darkest times.

I’ve never considered it to be a possibility to be in love with two men at once. Or the idea of them at the very least. Maybe one is simply a best friend I can’t live without, and the other a lover my heart recognizes as a necessity. That’s the only explanation I have for why this aches like it does. I’m caught in limbo, conflicted and the dark hole I fell into years ago is trying to swallow me back up.

“Is that him?” Renee asks from where she’s seated cross-legged on the floor, a plastic pink teacup in one hand.