JENNIE
I awoke with puffy eyes, soft, unfamiliar sheets under my skin, and raw stickiness between my legs. Hard, strong arms clutched me from behind, locking me to a strange body.
A body that had trapped and devoured and owned me the night before. That had both pushed me to my limits and cushioned me with the warmth and safety I'd needed to give Lisa everything. Guilt flowered as I remembered what I'd done, but my muscles clenched at the memory of all that'd been done to me.
Lisa stirred. She lifted my hair and touched her lips to the curve of my neck, causing my eyes to flutter shut and a moan to escape.
"Perfect," she whispered into my skin.
At the deep voice that I was already coming to know too intimately, my body tensed. My eyes flew open. The dark had lifted and in the cruel sunlight, all that lay there was the truth.
I lifted myself up on unsteady arms, carefully avoiding Lisa's always-penetrating stare. We couldn't have slept more than a few hours. I glanced around a sprawling white bedroom with colorful art that I was too unsettled to really take in. Sleek, black pendants hung from the ceiling on each side of the bed. A wall of gray-shaded stone framed the headboard.
My eyes stung with lack of sleep as I focused on the bedside clock. Only six in the morning.
Taehyung's plane would land in less than twelve hours.
"I have to leave." It came out harsher than I'd intended, but all I could think was that I'd have to face my husband tonight. That, and how every fiber of my being wanted to ignore that fact and curl up next to Lisa. I didn't know how I'd be able to leave her knowing I shouldn't—couldn't —ever see her again.
I finally let myself look at her. She'd pulled the crisp white sheets up to her muscled stomach, and her head rested back against her arm as she watched me. My matted hair fell over my shoulder, and I imagined that mascara had smeared around my eyes. Meanwhile, she looked perfectly unaffected—and just plain perfect.
"Stay," she said, no pleading, just flat. If I allowed myself to give in even a little, my worries, my fears, my inhibitions would melt away under her gaze. I would melt away.
But this no longer felt adventurous or sexy. It just felt wrong. A dull pain throbbed behind my eyes as I looked for something to cover myself.
Lisa got up and pulled on the same disarming gray sweatpants she had the other night. Her sinuous, robust muscles were even more apparent in the daylight. It took every shred of my willpower not to drag her back to bed.
She gathered up the top sheet and offered it to me. I stood, wrapping myself in it as we stared at each other from across the bed. I might've expected the electricity between us to diminish now that we'd given in to it, but if anything, it intensified as my body recalled the night before. I longed to submit myself to her again, to feel the weight of her on top of me. I knew without words that she felt the same—by the way she looked at me, and by her twitching but restrained erection.
God, those fucking gray sweatpants hung low and left little to the imagination.
"Can I clean myself up?" I asked, shifting on my feet.
She nodded.
In the sunlit bathroom, I shut the door behind me. It was just as beautiful and immaculate as the bedroom, with a rock and glass shower that overlooked Lake Michigan.
I sat on the toilet and ran my hands over my face. I'd actually gone through with it. I'd broken my vows. I'd betrayed Taehyung's trust. And if I kept this from him, I would lie to his face tonight.
Did Lisa normally let her one-night stands spend the night?
Why was I even thinking about that?
It didn't matter. She'd gotten what she'd wanted, and so had I. It was a moment I'd furtively fantasized about, yet my daydreams were nothing compared to the reality of her skin on mine, her length stretching and filling me. The reality of her working my body as if she owned it.
I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw white.
No.
I'd done so much more than acted out a fantasy. I had a husband and a life to answer to. What had I done? Something profoundly wrong. Something bigger than myself. Something that could never be undone.
As I washed my hands, I stole a quick glance at my reflection. I was right about my smeared makeup and tangled hair. The bruise on my face had ripened. Did I look different? How did adulterers look? Would a scarlet "A" brand my skin?
I wiped the smudges from under my eyes and raked a hand through my hair, starting at the roots. My fingers stuck on several tangles that'd formed from dried sweat. I needed a brush if I was going to fix this. I did the best I could, but it was useless trying to scrub this moment clean.
Wrapped back in the sheet, I opened the door and leaned against the jamb.
Lisa waited on the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees. "I preferred the bedhead," she said, jutting her chin at me.
I shook my head. "Left to its own devices, my hair would put me in an early grave. It doesn't know how to cooperate."
"Well, I like you that way. Disheveled."
"Lisa." It was part scolding, part plea. She shouldn't like me any way. She should keep her mouth shut and not make this more difficult.
"Jennie." No scolding.
"Last night was . . ." I let the sentence hang, wrapping the sheet more tightly under my arms.
"It was," she said, nodding slowly. "I meant what I said."
"About my hair?" I joked.
"No."
"Then what exactly?"
"Everything. That I want you for myself. That my feelings for you are real. That you're incredible." The crease in her brow offset her tousled, inky hair. "I want more. I want it all. I said as much last night, and I brought you here thinking we were on the same page."
My mind raced. The same page? A lot of things had been said—and done—in the heat of the moment. But she must've known this couldn't be anything more than a mistake I'd live with through every milestone of my marriage.
Lisa's and my connection had only intensified once we'd given in to it, yes. There was no denying our passion—or even that real feelings existed. But did she actually expect me to leave my husband based on one night?
"And I meant what I said. I'm not right for you," I said. "I'm, I don't know . . . broken. And married. Last night shouldn't have happened, but it did. We have to leave it at that. Trust me when I say, there's no other way."
She closed her eyes for a moment and then whipped them open. "You're broken?" She asked with a look of disgust. "And you have nothing to give? How the fuck can you say that to me after everything you just showed me?"
"I understand. Being with you was . . ." My voice hitched as I tried to find the words. "A release, and I don't just mean sexually. I needed it. It opened my eyes to the fact that maybe I can start to heal wounds I thought would never close. But that doesn't change the fact that I belong to someone else."
"He doesn't heal those wounds. He probably doesn't even know they exist." Lisa stood from the bed. "And you're going to tell me—"
"Don't." I held up my hands, stepping back.
As her eyes shuttered, and her expression closed, my heart dropped. Lisa had been open about what she'd wanted from the start, but how could she possibly know the extent of what she asked for? She didn't. With her revolving door of women, she couldn't. She only wanted what she couldn't have. And maybe that would work for a while, but eventually she'd see the truth—I couldn't break up my marriage for a player, even if it was the best sex of my life.
Lisa took a measured pace forward.
"This isn't how this goes," I explained. "It can't happen again."
"Jennie." This time, it was a command—she must've known what it did to me. She reached for me. "Come here."
It only took one step from me before she'd gathered me in her arms. She kissed my temple, my wounded cheek, my neck. I cherished the feel of her lips on my skin, knowing it would be the last time. With that, I began to weep silently in her arms. This time I cried for what I was losing, not from guilt or regret. She let me, holding me closer, her large hands caressing my back as the sheet fell to my hips. My nipples hardened against her wall of a chest—her equal desire twitched against my stomach.
"Shh," she whispered in my ear. She bent and kissed me full on the lips, pressing my wet face against her and sharing the tears. The slow and sensual tempo of her kiss turned urgent and deep. Her hand slid down my back and under the sheet, massaging my ass and inspiring the fervor again.
I'd been with others before; I'd been with others I'd thought were real. But this was different. Lisa kissed like a real one. She tasted, she smelled, and she fucked like a real one. It would take all the strength I had and then some.
I understood now that I was the one who would have to be strong for everyone—for Lisa, for Taehyung, and for myself. It'd been unfair to ask Lisa to be. It was on my shoulders.
"No," I said resolutely and pulled away, drawing the sheet over my shoulders. Looking up at her from under wet lashes, I felt small but with her, never insignificant.
"Jennie." Her tone softened, and I could see the struggle within her. "I've waited . . . it's not—I know this is wrong. Don't you think I know?" She ran a hand through her hair. "But I will be by your side every step of the way."
"By my side?" I asked. "For what?"
"You came to my bed knowing this wasn't a fling to me," she said firmly.
"You knew I would," I accused. "Has any woman ever turned you down? What choice did I really have?"
Her lips thinned into a line. "Don't pretend you didn't choose this. You have been nothing but vague about your feelings, and I let you have that—but I was always clear about how I feel, and what last night meant to me. And if anything, I'm even more confident this morning."
"Confident about what?"
"That you're mine."
I stared at her. I was . . . hers. It felt true, and it could be in another life—but in this one, I already belonged to another man. "The only way this works is if I leave my husband."
She crossed her arms. "I understand."
"I—I . . ." Maybe she'd expected that last night, and maybe I'd let myself believe it could happen. But that didn't mean she could snap her fingers and make it so. "You and I have known each other less than two months. We've spent one night together. Taehyung and I, we have history, years—"
"I don't want to hear that."
"Well, you have to," I snapped. "This isn't something we can try out and see how it goes. Divorce is fucking messy and painful."
"No shit," she said. "Can you honestly tell me you've never considered it, even without me in the picture?"
"Yes ," I said. "I can honestly say I've never considered it." I shook my head and stepped back. "I don't know why we're even discussing this. We have to forget this happened—it was a mistake. I knew it would be even before it happened. I take responsibility."
She set her jaw. "Call it a mistake if it helps you sleep at night, but I know that's not how you feel."
"How I feel in this moment cannot be the reason I upend my entire life. I'm going to walk out that door, and we're going to move on with our lives, and very soon, we'll realize this was nothing but lust we shouldn't have indulged."
She waited, her brown eyes searching mine. "You don't believe that at all," She said.
She was right, but it was an argument I couldn't afford to lose, so I didn't respond to it. "You promised you'd leave me alone if I asked you to," I said.
"If you ask and you mean it, I will."
"I mean it." My heart clenched. I had to be the one. I had to make this call for all of us, or things would only get messier. More painful.
I forced any feelings for her aside, straightened my shoulders, and repeated, "I mean it, Lisa."
After a few moments of silence, her expression smoothed. "You can't even say it. If you really want me gone, tell me to get the fuck out of your life."
I stared back at her, urging the final good-bye off my tongue to put an end to us once and for all.
"Is that,"—she enunciated each word and stepped toward me—"what you want? For me to walk away for good?"
"I . . ."
"Just say it." She grasped my blanketed arms. "Tell me, Jennie. Tell me that's what you want."
I opened my mouth, but words failed me. I loved her attention, and how it woke me up, how I came alive in her presence. But giving in to those passions might just as easily turn against me. Loving someone like Lisa could be the most wonderful experience—and the most painful. Already, her pleas to stay tore me open in ways I'd worked hard to avoid.
She pressed her fingers into my biceps, and my body nearly wilted under her command. "Look me in the eye and tell me you can forget," she said. "If you can, then I promise—we're through."
My knees and my resolve began to buckle. I reached deep inside for a modicum of strength. Any woman would be lucky to have this person standing in front of her, asking her to stay. Any woman would be horrified to know that I was tempted to give up my life for someone I'd just met, who could take me to new highs but even lower lows.
I squared my shoulders. "I-I . . ."
"I can't hear you," she said, stepping into me so I was pressed up against the doorjamb.
"I—you're hurting me."
Her grip loosened, though I hadn't meant physically. "Then say it, Jennie," she ordered. "Say it."
"Yes," I yelled, suddenly desperate to hurt her back. "This is what I want! To forget you. To forget this mistake. I don't want you. It's over."
Her brows furrowed, and her face fell as if I'd struck her.
I ducked away and rushed to grab my things from the floor. I ran out of her bedroom to the foyer, hit the Down button, dropped the sheet, and dressed speedily as the elevator ascended.
Thankfully, she didn't come after me this time. I didn't think I could ever look into those chestnut browns again without remembering the agony and betrayal I'd just seen.
Once inside the elevator, I bit my lip to hold back the tears. I tried, in desperation, to shove Lisa's expression out of my mind.
She'd forget me, though. It would be easy to toss out my memory like she'd surely done with many women. While I feared my heart would never forget one detail about her.
The elevator doors parted to a regal, eerily quiet hotel lobby. The click of my heels echoed as I raced through, fixing my gaze on the revolving door ahead as if that would get me there faster. When I pushed through to the other side, I shielded my eyes from the glaring, unrelenting sun.
I stumbled down the block. Lisa had thought I'd choose her. I'd betrayed and hurt both them, breaking promises to each of them. I'd spiraled. I'd snapped. I'd been reckless for the first time since I'd seen the damage irrational love could do.
I couldn't hold myself together for another step. I leaned my back against a scratchy brick wall to pull myself together.
If one night with Lisa could leave me broken this way, what kind of life would ours have been?
Volatile. Unstable. Passionate nights. Explosive fights . A mad, combustible lust . . .
Even knowing the heartache Lisa could cause, I wanted to run back to her now. But my past anchored me where I was. That, and the thought of an unpredictable future that could soar to new heights just as surely as it could crash and burn. Getting wrapped up in Lisa, her mouth on mine, her fingers tightening in my hair—it had already made me forget the truth too many times.
I'd chosen Taehyung for a reason.
And one day, I'd wake up, my lust for Lisa gone, and I'd know without a doubt that I'd made the right choice.
And I realized in that moment what that choice meant. I hadn't only said good-bye to Lisa. I'd just committed to the life I'd seen inside that two-story suburban house weeks ago. The one on the realtor's postcard currently hanging on my refrigerator door. A commute into Chicago, a manicured lawn, a husband who'd work long hours to make sure our family was always comfortable. And the office that would one day be a nursery.
There was no turning back now.
Alone, where nobody could see, I sank down to the ground, put my head in my hands, and sobbed.