JENNIE
Seven and a Quarter Months Ago . .
We spend the morning walking around Saint Paul's bustling downtown. We have the most divine coffee at a locally owned pastry shop. I get caught up talking to the owner about how her partner is moving to London and she's debating whether to buy her out or sell. Lisa eventually drags me away but not before I get her recipe for the best cheese-and-grape turnover I've ever had. We exchange e-mail addresses, promising to keep in touch.
Next, we hit a quaint used bookstore where Lisa allows me time to meander through overpacked shelves and pick through everything from thrillers that came out last year to first editions of classics from the eighteen hundreds. Those were under lock and key, of course. Yet another place she has to drag me from.
Finally after an unconventional lunch of award-winning ice cream from a place called Greenery Creamery, we arrive at the Cathedral of Saint Paul. When we pull into the parking lot I note all the cars and navy and ivory ribbons hanging from the gorgeous tall red doors.
Shit. Saturday afternoon at a Catholic church. Of course. "There's a wedding going on. We can't go in."
Lisa scoffs, cutting the engine. "Of course we can, Swan. A wedding is a celebration."
"Yes, one it's customary to be invited to," I shout as she exits the car and shuts the door. Then she forces me from the vehicle by grabbing right behind my knees where she proceeds to tickle until I'm putty in her hands. A few minutes later, Lisa has one arm snug around my shoulders, her other hand tucked securely in mine.
We're officially wedding crashers, sitting in our jeans and sweaters a few pews back from the dapperly dressed invited guests in this breathtaking church, watching a heart-wrenching ceremony.
Tears balance on my lashes. The groom is an utter mess. The bride is a breath away from losing her shit. And I'm barely holding it together when the first drop of water trickles down my cheek.
I don't know this couple. I don't know their lives, their story, or how hard they had to work to get to this moment. But what I do know is—as I sit here and watch two people clearly in love twine their lives together forever—I am filled with hot regret.
I squandered my day.
I stood in front of Lisa, repeating the same vows this couple is now saying, and wished wishes I should never have wished.
Now I wish for entirely different things. I wish I had a chance to look deep into Lisa's soul when speaking true words of love and devotion. I wish I could make her understand how she's painstakingly pieced my broken parts back together. I wish she knew that I will be eternally grateful for the unexpected gift she's given me. Given us. I wish for a redo of it all. Our courtship, our wedding day, our honeymoon, our first time. Our entire life together.
I quickly wipe remorse from my face as the crowd stands and cheers for Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Needlemeyer. Eck. Poor girl. When the happy couple glides by us, they're so lost in their own bubble we could be four-headed aliens and they wouldn't even notice. We stay put as the wedding party passes us next, followed by the cutest little girl in the most adorable navy-blue dress and matching patent leather shoes. Petals from the small bouquet she's winging back and forth sail to the ground behind her. She squeals and takes off down the long aisle as a boy a few years old in a smart navy suit chases after her. Following on their heels is a crazed woman, presumably the mother.
"Cassie, Aiden!" she yells. "Stop this instant."
Cassie starts nimbly weaving between the pews, Aiden hot on her heels. Neither of them slows a stitch.
Lisa squeezes my hand and when my eyes find her, they're alight with…anticipation? For our own? That thought would have petrified me just months ago. And not because I didn't want kids. I've always wanted a family of my own. But because I always pictured them with Hanbin instead. Now…now, though, my picture is starting to slowly morph and twist.
When Lisa drops her lips to my temple, I exhale in utter contentment. God, how could I not know I had these crazy feelings for her before? So many years wasted. "Good idea I had, huh?"
"I will have to concede you that point, yes," I agree with a smile.
"Come on. We can slink out the back, undetected." She tugs on my hand. I stop her, though.
"No. Let's go give our congratulations to the happy couple."
She blinks a couple of times before a wide grin takes over her face. She nods. "I like the way you think."
Wagging my brows, I say excitedly, "Maybe we can finagle an invite to the reception? I can put on that sexy little black number you brought and let you make all the men envious."
She tucks me into her arms. "Ah yes, but then you'd show up the bride. And every bride deserves to be the center of attention on her special day." Dropping a fast kiss to my lips, the celebration fades away as she continues in a low, promising timbre, "Besides, I have something planned for tonight with you in that sexy little black number."
"Sheila's surprise?"
"No. It's my surprise. Sheila just helped me with a few loose ends."
This girl. She's so good to me. Too good.
I wrap my arms all the way around Lisa's waist and cinch them hard. Burying my head in her chest, I inhale a lungful of her scent and spicy cologne, wondering how in the hell I got so lucky.
"Lisa?"
"Jen?"
"Would you maybe, ah, want to renew our vows someday?" It won't make up for what I took from us the first time, but maybe it gives me a second chance to do it right.
She stills. Most of the guests have exited the church or are milling around the entrance. So there's no one around when she pulls back a short breadth and cups my cheeks with her big hands. When I see the fat drops of water in her eyes, my own blur.
"You want to renew our vows?" The surprise in her voice slays me.
Suddenly I feel flush. My stomach flips like a net full of fish is in it. I can't speak, so I nod instead, spilling all the drops that have built up in my lids.
"Jen." Her voice cracks. She stops and swallows. Shuts her eyes for a brief moment. "I would renew my vows with you every single day for the rest of my life if that's what you wanted. My life has always been pledged to you."
I bite my lip, trying like hell to hold in a sob. "I want," I whisper hoarsely. I want more than anything.
Lisa places her forehead gently to mine. Her lids fall shut. She breathes in deep. "Just name the date and time, Swan."
It's easier to pull myself together when she's not staring at me with so much love I still don't yet feel I deserve. "I know you like untraditional, but I'd like to do it on our one-year anniversary. I want small and intimate. Maybe even just us." I don't want drama and yesterdays staring me in the face.
"I'd like that." She must feel the same.
"Okay. It's a date then."
"It's a date then," she repeats, breathy and sweet. "One I wouldn't miss on my life."
Later that night, we walk into Barrington's, a swanky bar just blocks away from our B and B. A chill runs the length of my spine from the bitter cold outside. I think the temp has dropped fifteen degrees since this afternoon. There are a few flakes of snow in the air and while I need to get back to the bakery, I wouldn't mind if we woke up to a foot of snow, stealing an extra day here. I'm in no rush to head back to Dusty Falls and everything that awaits us there. Spending uninterrupted time with Lisa, away from it all—let's be brutally honest, away from Hanbin—is as if an enormous weight has been lifted from my chest.
I see nothing but Lisa. As it should be.
"Oh, look, there's a nice secluded table in the back." A perfect place for slipping off a shoe and running my bare foot up Lisa's thigh until her eyes dilate and hood. Until her cock gets so fucking hard, she makes me give her a hand job under the table. She refused to touch me earlier, making me shower alone. I'm still a little cross about that. She said, "Anticipation heightens the senses, Swan. And I want every one of your senses strung tight as a bow by the time we get back to our room." Well, I can string her senses into knots, too.
"Let's order a drink first," she whispers against my cheek. With a hand at the small of my back, Lisa maneuvers us around to the far side of the long granite bar and smoothly orders. "I'll have a Babyface Nelson."
"A Babyface Nelson? What's that?" I ask, looking up at her. That sexy dimple of her pops when she simultaneously quirks the corner of her lip and winks.
The bartender nods and reaches for a bottle of Jack Daniels. My forehead scrunches. Lisa doesn't even like Jack. But it doesn't come off the shelf. Instead, the bartender pulls it forward, like a lever or a switch, and the wall to our left, which is painted entirely black, slides open with a soft whisper.
"Thanks, man," Lisa says.
"Oh my God. What is this?" I ask in wonder, staring at the open staircase in front of us.
Lisa ushers me forward, my hand now trapped in her. When we walk through the open space it shuts behind, closing us in, muffling the noise. We're now on the landing of a dimly lit narrow wooden stairway. The steps are old and worn. Curved a little in the middle from so many years of use. A closed steel-gray door at the bottom traps us in.
"Where are we?" I whisper. It echoes loudly, sounding as if we've stepped right inside a tin can.
"The gateway to heaven," Lisa smoothly answers.
I pivot and grab the lapels of her peacoat. Sliding to my tiptoes, I bat my eyes seductively. "You told me this morning that was between my beautiful thighs."
Storm clouds roll into her brown eyes, deepening them to an inky black. She steps into me. I step back. She steps into me again but I have nowhere to go because my back is now flush with the brick wall. Dropping her palms on either side of my head she presses her lower half fully into me. She's so damn hard. It takes my breath away.
"I want to fuck you so bad right now," she tells me. Her tone is low and gravelly. Guttural. Yeah, guttural and sinful as hell.
"Here?" I'm panting. Panting.
Steely, determined dark pools of lust bore into mine. "Yes."
My body temp soars. I'm so damn hot and bothered right now I feel like I'm melting right into the wall. My eyes dart to the doors on either side of us. "Right here? In this stairwell?"
"Yes," her husky voice whispers with surety against the shell of my ear. My lids drift shut. My lips part on a gasp. One of her hands has slid down my outer thigh. Finding bare skin, she's now trailing it back up. Pretty soon she's going to discover the surprise I was saving for later. "Oh fuck, Swan," she growls long and low when she hits my bare, uncovered pussy. My bare, uncovered, dripping pussy.
Then I'm the one to curse when she pushes two greedy fingers inside me. And I hoarsely gasp her name when she starts fingering me with pure, focused dedication to my pleasure alone.
It feels so good all I can do is hold on for the ride.
I'm fully aware we are dangerously exposed. My dress is pulled up to my waist, my privates on full display as my wife finger fucks me in a public place. Anyone could walk through either door. At any moment. But that also heightens my need…deepens this primary element inside me to connect with her on every possible level.
"So wet," she rumbles as if in pain. "So ungodly wet, Jen." God in heaven, I am. The sound of my flesh being worked is wild and decadent.
I snake a hand between us so I can grip her erection over her slacks. She groans and pulses twice in quick succession when my fingers wrap around her girth. I stroke her up and down. She swells more with each pass.
"I should have bent you over the bed and taken you in front of that floor-length mirror before we left," she grunts against my lax mouth.
"You should have," I manage to cobble together. I'm so lost in us, in the places she's pushing me, that I act without thinking. With my free hand, I undo the single tie on my side holding the two halves of my dress together. I tug the material apart, exposing my sheer black bra. It barely covers my beaded nipples.
"Holy shit, Swan."
Every nerve tingles with unimaginable sensitivity as she zeroes in on my breasts. The way she looks at me is electrifying. Like I'm the last meal she'll eat on earth so she's going to make the most of every single bite.
Never stopping her diabolical inner caress, Lisa dips and clamps a protruding bud between her teeth. She strikes fast and hard over the thin fabric. I cry out, my painful pleasure reaching my ears in short waves. Then she sucks just as hard, wetting the cup.
My sex clenches, tightening so I feel every push and drag of her fingers against my walls. It's not enough. Nothing is enough.
Winding a leg around her opens me up farther to her. She takes advantage of my new position by adding a third digit. The second her thumb begins feathering my clit I start to quiver.
"Lisa, God. I'm going to explode."
"And you're gonna make me ruin these pants if you keep that up." With every brush upward, I circle right under her sensitive glans. Good Lord, I wish my mouth was on her right now. "Jennie, fuck that feels good."
I feel drunk right now. High, free, heady. So damn brazen I want her cock driving me into the brick instead of her hand. Without her objection, I pop open the button on her slacks and drag her zipper halfway down. Suddenly the scrape of metal against concrete sounds right before laughter reaches our ears. We both freeze.
"Shit," Lisa mutters.
My core feels empty when she quickly withdraws her fingers and wrenches my dress back together. But she doesn't move back. Instead, she grabs my face between her palms, wetness glazing over my cheek, and smashes her lips to mine. She kisses me with passion and longing and serious frustration. Feet pound against wood. Voices get closer. A few whistles are heard. Aimed at us, I'm sure. And still, Lisa keeps kissing me. She only stops when we hear the secret door slide shut, leaving us alone once again.
Pressing our foreheads together, she grumbles, "I almost fucked you right now. Damn the consequences."
The air is charged, crackling. Beckoning me on bated breath to be wickedly bad.
"Do," I press her, breathlessly. Jesus, what am I saying? Public sex?
She angles back slightly, her gaze gripping mine. Her ambers blaze hot. So hot my entire being is on fire. Wordlessly, she reaches her hand down. When I hear her zipper separate, I let my dress fall back open. I feel her cock, stiff and velvety, against my stomach only a second before she runs the thick crown through my wetness. She wraps a palm around the back of my thigh and winds it around her so my heel brushes her calf. The breath whooshes out of me when—eyes never leaving mine—she plunges inside in one vicious thrust.
"Oh, God."
My orgasm, which had waned with our interruption, barrels back. It's sharp, instantaneous. It takes me by such surprise, Lisa has to slam her mouth to mine to swallow my keening wails.
She fucks me hard, almost callously. Her hips slap, relentless and bruising, her pubic bones slamming against mine with each rough drive.
"Holy fuck, Jen," she breathes, impaling me twice more before releasing on a long, broken stutter. Spent, her body goes slack against mine. Her weight makes my shoulder blades dig into the grooves of the wall behind me. The weight feels good, though, so I don't push her back. We should move. We don't. "That was…"
"Yeah," I pant in agreement. My eyes are screwed shut. My skin beads with sweat. My heart's pounding against my ribs. The scent of sex loitering in the air is unmistakable. "That was."
"Don't use the restroom," she says, grunting. "I want my come sticking to your thighs." She pushes these dirty words into my ear. Holy mother, the things she says sometimes.
"That's kind of cavemanish," I tease as she sweetly but efficiently rewraps my dress. She even ties the bow nice and pretty before tucking herself back into her pants.
She leans back in and presses her lips gently to mine. "Guilty. You make me completely lose my head, Jennie. Always have."
I grin, all glowy. Positively overflowing with all the feels for her. "So, ah…where were you taking me, wife of mine, before you fucked me half to death in a secret stairwell?"
She expels a rush of air that washes over my face. It still smells like the mint she had after dinner. "I love hearing that, you know."
"What?" I reach up and run my finger along her strong jawline, loving the feel it.
"Wife. I love being your wife, Jennie. I've always wanted that and there was a time when…" she stalls. Throws her gaze to the floor quickly. Returns it back to mine. The heat that was in them before has been replaced with some sort of ache. "There was a time when I thought maybe that wouldn't happen."
My smile drops and my breath catches in that little pocket at the back of my throat. Is that why every time she's inside me, it feels as if she's trying to brand not only my soul but my very spirit as well? Is she worried I'll change my mind and run to be with Hanbin instead, given the chance? Would I? I'd like to be able to say with 100 percent certainty the answer is no, but the honest to God's truth is…I can't be sure. Hanbin will always be wound around me in some way. Regardless of if I'm ever successful at severing that hold he has on me, his imprint will always be left behind. There's simply nothing I can do about that.
Time kinda slows down as we search each other's souls. What does she see? Does she see a woman who has changed over the past few months? Does she see a woman who has truly fallen in love with the one before her? Or does she see one who she thinks betrayed her with her brother of all people? That's what I feel when I look at her now. Even though Lisa and I were not a thing until Hanbin and I were well over, I feel as though I've betrayed her somehow. I suppose I have in a way.
We both know it. We both think it. Neither of us will acknowledge it, though.
My heart beats double time. This is the part where we edge up to that ambiguous line. But do we cross it? Do we mention his name and pick that scab at long last or do we skirt around it once again?
I honestly don't know what to say, so I stay mute and just wait.
She leans in. Touches her lips lightly to my forehead. Then pulls back way too fast. "Come on," she says, reaching for my hand. "I wanted to show you a real live twenties speakeasy that's so exclusive you can't get in unless you know the right people."
Circle it is.
"Okay." As I flash a brief smile and set my palm in her, letting her lead me down the rickety stairs, I have to wonder about that circle, though. It keeps getting smaller and smaller and smaller. We've worn the edges smooth and thin.
They're fragile.
They're cracking.
Pretty soon there won't be anything left.
Then we'll have no choice but to enter the very center where hurt feelings lay buried beneath our feet, waiting to be unearthed like ghosts in a graveyard.