Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) (8 page)

I close my eyes and move my mouth over his. For a man whose hands are callused and rough from years of hard labor, his lips are surprisingly soft. The sparks are off the charts and I worry that they’ll light a fuse, causing me to self-destruct. I ignore my doubts and instead turn reason over to my mouth, exploring the man I pledged to love until death.

He lays me against the pillows and my hands move down to grip the hem of his t-shirt. He grabs the back of the collar and lifts it over his head effortlessly, his ink on full display. Tattoos coat his muscular arms, the corded veins a testament to how hard he’s worked to get his company where it is today.
He’s never been afraid to get his hands dirty.
I pause as the memory catches me off guard. Memories of him coming in from work—early in our marriage, covered in sawdust and drywall, pour in and I remember vividly that he never once complained about how hard it was to get his company launched.

“You want a notebook for all the studying you’re doing over there?”

I look up at his face, “I can’t help it. I didn’t exactly get a lot of time to look you over the last time.”

He smiles and leans down, lifting my tank top up and over my head, “My turn…I didn’t get to see you the last time.”

I giggle, “Liar.”

He brings his mouth back down over mine and my only thought is
more
. More of this. More of him. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough, which is going to make this even more difficult. I’m letting him in on an impulse, but I fear that when he leaves he’ll be taking a big part of me with him.

He rocks his body into mine and I arch up into him, needing the friction. A moan involuntarily escapes and he takes it as his cue to continue. David uses one hand to brace himself, while the other is on my lower back, guiding me. He can’t be comfortable in those jeans, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get them off. I reach down and fumble my way through undoing his belt buckle while his hand moves up to unclasp my bra. I free him from his jeans and boxer briefs and pull him into me.
I’m so close.
My breathing becomes heavier and he increases his movements against me. I come with a cry and a death grip on his waist.
Does pregnancy make orgasms more intense?

He stops moving against me, “Watching you come is absolutely fucking beautiful, babe.”

My breathing is ragged and I can’t find my voice. I unbutton my Capri pants, but his hand stops me.

“No. We’re not doing that.”

I scoff, “Why the hell not?”

“I told you I was going to win you back. Until you call off the divorce, this is as far as it goes.”

I sit up and reach for my bra, “You’re serious right now? You’re going to hold out unless I call off the divorce? Who does that?”

He adjusts himself as he pulls his pants back up. Seeing as to how he’s still rock hard, I’m not sure how he’s expecting that to work. “I’m serious, Beth. I want you forever, not one night. I think you’ll find that I can be very patient.”

He reaches for his shirt just as we hear a voice call out from the living room, “You know who else is patient? Me. I’ve been sitting here quietly playing Candy Crush for the last twenty minutes while you two are in there not having sex.”

I stifle a laugh and look over to see David is grinning as well.
Leave it to Lauren to lighten the mood.
He tosses me my shirt and I try and make myself look presentable before leaving our bedroom.

We exit the room sheepishly, like a couple of teenagers just busted for breaking curfew. Lauren is sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the ottoman, happily playing on her phone.

She glances up at us. “Well, hey there! I made myself comfortable. I hope that’s okay. What am I saying? Of course it is. I probably could’ve loaded up the nice electronics without anyone noticing,” She tosses her phone down on the couch, “Now, who needs a cold shower?”

I laugh at Lauren’s words, but I am in desperate need of a cold shower or at the very least, non-restrictive clothing.

“Lauren, you staying the night?”

She grins, “Yes, under one condition.”

I gesture for her to spit it out, “And that condition would be?”

“Promise me that you eased her sexual tension and that I don’t have to be worried about her sneaking into my room tonight.”

I look over at Beth, her face turning a lovely shade of crimson. Forgetting the physical discomfort I’m in for a moment, I give her a seductive smile, “I dunno, baby. You gonna be good for a while or should we go back and try again?”

She refuses to make eye contact with me when she answers, her eyes glued to the carpet. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks for lunch earlier.”

I walk over and stand in front of her until she looks up. I lower my voice, “You sure?”

Before she can answer, I pull her into me, my mouth claiming hers as mine. I pull away when she puts her hands on my chest. “Let me know if you change your mind, Beth,” I glance at Lauren on my way to the door, “Lauren, always a pleasure.”

She looks up from the phone she seems to have picked up again, “Same here, David. Same here. Oh, call Mike when you get a chance. I was supposed to tell you the minute I got here, but I decided that was a sight I did not need ingrained in my mind,” she waves cheerily, “Take care.”

I towel dry off after a long, somewhat satisfying shower and fish a pair of black sweatpants out of my bag. I should probably unpack my things and put them into drawers, but I feel like that would make this seem like a permanent thing.

No, I’ve just got to keep doing what I’m doing. If I can just keep her wanting more, she might be more receptive to the idea of us working things out. I just found release in the shower, the thought of her beautiful face at the forefront of my mind, and here I am getting hard just thinking about being back in the same house as her.

The clock says it’s just after eleven, but I know Mike will still be up.

“Hey man, did you just get my message?”

I laugh, “Not exactly. Your girlfriend was trying not to interrupt. What’s going on?”

He sighs heavily, “I tried to call you earlier. I’m not sure if you’ve seen the news or not, but there’s a missing person case involving someone who was intimate with Landon Scott. He voluntarily came in for questioning and to be honest with you, the guy’s a wreck. He’s been nothing, but forthcoming with any information he has—”

I interrupt him, “So, you’re calling to tell me what exactly, Mike? That you still don’t have anything on him?”

“Well, partly. The main reason I’m calling is because his alibi for August seventh involves Elizabeth. David, I’ve got to bring her in for an interview. I wanted to give you a head’s up before that happened though.”

I rub at my temple in frustration.
Shit.

“You might as well bring me in too, man. I saw them together that day.”

The line is silent for a minute, “Yeah, why don’t you both come in tomorrow morning. I’ll be up here for a while, but I may run home and try to get a couple of hours of sleep. Could we meet at nine?”

I agree and hang up. I can’t see how corroborating that Beth was with Landon for all of twenty minutes will make much of a difference, but what do I know? I can’t say that I’m not a little pleased that he’s on their radar. He’s going to go down for her disappearance—how could he not?

Beth was addicted to those true crime shows on television and Friday nights were spent watching
Dateline
or
20/20
. It seemed like every case involved the spouse or significant other, no matter what the crime scene seemed to suggest.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see Jess’s name flash across the screen. I’m tempted to hit
decline
, but I’ve avoided her calls for the last couple of days. I’ve got to be a man and face the fact that I’m going to be a parent—even if it is with the wrong woman. Although I’ve still got hope that the paternity test will let me off the hook.

“Hello?”

“David—you do know how to answer your phone. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past few days.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t have much to say. Figured we’d talk once the test results come back. Did you make the appointment with the lab?”

Her voice breaks, “I need to see you. Can I come over?”

I shake my head, “Are you serious? It’s almost midnight, Jess. No, you can’t come over. There’s nothing we need to talk about now that can’t wait until morning.”

“I want to show you the pictures from the visit. You ran out of there and missed the ultrasound.”

I massage my temple again, this time with more force, “No. I can’t tonight—”

She talks over me, “We need to talk about living arrangements once the baby comes. Do you think Lizzie will move out of the house? I think we’d have more room there than at my place—”

“Do not say her name. I don’t want you approaching her about this shit either. We are not going to live together, Jess. You wanna know why? Because we’re not a family—there is no scenario where we end up together and raise this baby. I’m married to Beth and that’s not going to change.”

She laughs bitterly, “Married? For how much longer, David? I know that she filed for divorce. Hell, half the town probably knows it by now. You might want to consider that there’s only one person still willing to have a life with you, and that’s me.”

Should I be the asshole now or wait and let her get a few more digs in first?

Now is as good a time as any.

“Jess, not like it’s any of your business, but Beth and I have been spending more time together. I actually just got back from the house,” I can hear her crying, “If the tests show that this kid is mine, I’ll share custody with you. Until—”

She raises her voice, “David, stop! I’ve loved you since that night at
Nick’s
when you met Lizzie. I knew we had something special…I just married the wrong guy!”

I stop pacing and sit down on the edge of the bed. I pinch the bridge of my nose, the headache growing worse by the second. “Jess, please stop talking. You’re embarrassing yourself. Even if Beth and I can’t make things work, you and I will never be together. What happened between us is fucked up at best, definitely not a good foundation to build a relationship on. I’ll parent with you, but that’s all it will ever be. You never answered me before. Did your doctor’s office get you an appointment for the test?”

Jess sniffs into the phone, “Yeah. They couldn’t get us in until September eighth at ten,” she laughs humorlessly, “I guess there’s a lot of people around this town who are unsure of who knocked them up.”

Jesus—three weeks? I was hoping it’d be done within a few days. In three weeks, I expected to have an answer. I get the location for the lab and get the hell off of the phone.

I shut off the lights and beg sleep to come easily.

The next morning, I stop and grab a couple of coffees on the way to my house. I called Beth first thing this morning and let her know that we were needed at the police station. She didn’t seem surprised by the revelation, but then again she watches enough television to expect this sort of thing to happen.

Lauren’s car is gone when I pull up and park. I walk across the damp grass and balance the coffees in one hand while ringing the doorbell with the other. Our next door neighbor, Charles, is out in his front yard messing around the flower bed. He waves and then gives me a questioning look. He’s in his late sixties and prides himself on being the neighborhood watch program. Seriously, I doubt anyone else needs to participate as he seems to know everything that’s going on at all times.

I smile and return the wave, “Hey Chuck—left my garage door opener so I’m locked out.” He hates when I call him Chuck, so I make it a point to do it often.

He nods, but still keeps his eyes on me.

Nosy bastard.

Beth opens the door and I see that she’s dressed up for the occasion. She’s wearing dark wash jeans with a grey t-shirt and black blazer. Her hair is down and somewhat tame today. I swear, those blonde curls are my kryptonite.

“Hey. I’m just going to grab my shoes and we can go.”

She runs back into the bedroom and I set her coffee down on the kitchen counter while I wait.

I grab my cup and sip the hot liquid, trying to force my exhausted brain to function. I tossed and turned all night with thoughts of Jess, Beth, and even Landon. Needless to say, I’ll be looking forward to a Saturday afternoon nap.

Beth comes into the kitchen and immediately wrinkles her nose. “What is that smell? It smells like something is burning.”

She sniffs the air and I hold up her coffee. “I got you coffee. Is that what you’re smelling?”

She looks at the cup like it contains poison and begins gagging. I’m still trying to process what the hell is wrong with her when she calmly walks over to the sink and vomits.

Her voice sounds strangled, “Please get rid of it. Throw it in the dumpster—whatever, just get it out of this house.”

I walk out to the alley and throw the coffee in the dumpster, but not before noting that the lawn needs to be mowed. I’ll take care of that after we get back from the station.

Beth is standing by the garage door, drinking water as though nothing is wrong.

“Are you still sick from yesterday?”

She swallows and nods, “Yeah, it must be like a twenty-four hour bug or something. I hope you don’t get it.”

We ride to the police station in silence. I sip my coffee while she flips through the radio stations like most men (myself included) do with the T.V. remote. She finally settles on some god-awful pop radio station and hums quietly to herself.

I take another sip of coffee and she rolls down the window, looking a little pale. “Beth, you okay? Feeling sick again?”

She is turned so that the wind is blowing right into her face and I see her nod. I pull the car as far over onto the shoulder of the highway as I can and she stumbles out, vomiting into the grass and wildflowers growing on the side of the road. I slide across the seats and hold her hair back so she doesn’t get sick on herself.

Beth wipes the back of her hand across her mouth when she finishes and I help her back into the truck. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the seat.