His Ever After (Love Square) (3 page)

“What can I get you, sugar?” She asks while she trails her pen down her chest, drawing my eyes to her cleavage.

“Just a Sam Adams. Do you have any on tap?” I ask, my eyes slowly moving back up to meet hers.

“Sorry, only a bottle. You sure that’s all I can get for you?” She slowly licks her bottom lip.

I’d be stupid if I didn’t realize what she’s offering. Unfortunately, I’m not buying right now. This chick would be good for a quick, wild fuck, but it’s not what I’m looking for. She doesn’t hold a candle to Sam.

“That’s all… for now,” I reply leaving the invitation open just in case. You never know what the night is going to hold, and I’ve been known to change my mind.

After the waitress, who I now know is named Tiffany, brings my beer over, I watch the crowd while waiting for Sam. The minutes feel like they’re ticking by excruciatingly slow. I take the last swig of my beer when the door opens and in walks Sam. She’s breathtaking with a partially see-through, white sweater that hangs off her shoulder. Her jeans look like they are painted on, and I feel the telltale tightening in my jeans again.

As she gets closer, I stand and reach out for her, pulling her to me for a hug. Her curves fit my body in all the right places. Remembering how sensitive she is on her back, I lightly trail my hands down her spine. My touch elicits a slight shiver in her, and I can’t help but smile at her reaction. Knowing I can still cause this type of reaction in her after all these years is heady.

I gesture towards the booth, and she slides in across from me. Once we settle in, she gifts me with a beautiful smile, like she’s really looking forward to being here with me. And doesn’t that just make me feel like a smug bastard.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked to drink since it’s been so long. Let me flag down a waitress,” I say while catching Tiffany’s attention from across the room. She clearly doesn’t look happy that Sam’s sitting here with me as she walks over. She’s undeterred by Sam’s presence though and continues to flirt with me, practically sticking her boobs under my chin.

“What would you like to drink, sugar,” she says seductively. For as much fun as this is, I can’t let her disrespect Sam like this. I refuse to give into her little game right now.

“I’ll take another Sam Adams and she’ll have…” I look over at Sam and feel a small sense of triumph at the murderous expression she is giving to Tiffany’s back.

“I’d like a Bacardi and Diet please.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s grinding her teeth to keep from saying more.

Tiffany barely spares Sam a glance as she walks away to get our drinks. I turn back to Sam, determined to find out more about this girl. I want to know everything I’ve missed.

“So, Sam, tell me what you’ve been up to since high school?” I start picking at the label on my beer bottle, trying to calm my nerves.

“Well, I went to Syracuse University in New York. That’s where I met my husband. He’s an architect. We got married seven years ago, and a couple of years later we moved to Alexandria, Virginia when he got a job there. I’ve been spending my time, since college, writing. A couple of years ago, I decided to try to self-publish one of my stories. It picked up a great fan base and with the help of my friend Michelle, who is a literary agent, I was able to get a publishing deal and well… here we are!” She spreads her hands wide and smiles at me.

Hearing her talk about her husband makes me want to kick something. I want to know more about this son of a bitch, but I don’t want to seem too eager about it either. Instead, I decide to focus on the other person she was talking about.

“Michelle Kelsey from high school?” I inquire.

“One in the same!” She says excitedly as we go on to talk about her best friend. You can tell how close they still are and how much Sam loves her. It makes me a little jealous. I want her to talk about me like that. And isn’t that the kicker? Because she’ll never talk about me like that as long as she’s married.

When she starts talking about her success and how she owes it all to Michelle, I know she’s being modest. From what I read today, Sam is talented. I always knew she’d be something special. She had a drive and a hunger to succeed at whatever she was doing.

“That is so great. I’m glad to see you’re achieving success. I always knew you’d go far,” I say softly, wanting her to know I mean the words I’m speaking. Her face flushes, and she looks embarrassed.

“Thanks. What about you? Last I heard you decided not to join the Marines like you had planned on doing.” I watch her tongue stick out and grab her straw before she draws it between her lips to take a sip. All I can imagine is her doing that to my dick. Then I realize what she’s asking, and I know in order to answer, I’ll have to talk about that horribly painful time. For as much as I hate talking about it, I feel compelled to tell her. Like I know my pain will be safe in her hands.

“No, I didn’t join the marines. My mom got real sick and I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from home when she needed me. She passed away a year later from cancer. I was glad for the time I got to spend with her. After she died, I went to Northeastern in Massachusetts and got my degree in Criminal Justice. I ended up in Washington, D.C., where I’m a police officer.”

While I’m talking, Sam reaches over and grabs my hand. I take the opportunity to lace my fingers with hers. It feels so good to have her comfort me when I’m tormented with memories of my mother wasting away before my very eyes. Her thumb idly strokes the back of my hand and it feels so natural and so right to be sitting with her like this. I’m determined to enjoy anything I can get from her tonight, even if it is just her sympathy.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your mom,” she says softly as she pulls her hand away and places it in her lap. I want to beg her to give it back. I miss the feel of her already.

“So, no wife or special girl in your life?” She asks, and I smirk at the fact that she doesn’t look at all thrilled with the prospect of me answering that question.

I shake my head before answering. “I haven’t met anyone special enough. There have been a few long term relationships, but none of them were what I was looking for.”

My eyes search hers, trying to silently communicate that none of them were her. When it doesn’t look like she’s going to allow herself to go there, I clear my throat and go for the gold. I’ve been dying to broach this topic since we sat down. “You mentioned your husband is an architect. Tell me about him.”

“Yes, Aiden is an architect. What can I say about him?” She pauses for a moment, and I warily await her answer. “Well, he is smart, funny, handsome... I don’t know. What do you want to know?”

That’s a great question. What
do
I want to know? I don’t think she’d take too kindly to me asking her if she’d leave her husband and run away with me. All I want is to take her in my arms and love her for the rest of my life. There is a connection here that is undeniable. Something that is drawing me to her. I feel like a whole person when I’m with her. It’s like she’s my missing piece. This isn’t just about sex with her. This is about possessing her and making her mine. This is about seeing her smile first thing in the morning and knowing that I’ll be ending my day with her every evening.

She talks more enthusiastically about Michelle than she does this Aiden guy, so I decide to go with the question that will tell me everything. “Are you happy?”

She looks taken aback and nervous by my question. It takes her a few moments before she answers. “Happiness is relative, isn’t it? I mean, can one person truly be happy all the time?”

Whereas I’m excited that her answer is evasive and is clearly trying to hide the truth from me, I’m disappointed that she could be anything other than happy. I want nothing but the best for her, even if this Aiden jerk is what is best for her. Time to pull her from her comfort zone.

“I might be overstepping my boundaries right now, but it seems to me that you’re trying to convince yourself of that. If you were genuinely happy with your husband, you would have said it.” I’ve never been one to mince my words. My goal is to draw her out and get to the truth. If he isn’t taking care of her, I will. Straight up, no doubt about it. I’d tie myself up in knots to make sure she was happy.

“You’re probably right. Things have been a little rocky lately. That’s all. There is a lot of stress between our jobs and stuff. Not every relationship is butterflies and rainbows all the time.” Her hand looks a little shaky, and I’m afraid I’m upsetting her, which is the exact opposite of what I want to do.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just want to make sure you are really happy. I care about you. I always have. That’s all,” I reply, hoping I haven’t ruined this evening with my lack of consideration.

She gives me a small, tentative smile before changing the subject and talking about the Boston Red Sox. We both grew up in Massachusetts and were huge Red Sox fans. Back in high school we watched a few games together, and her enthusiasm for the sport was always contagious. Any red-blooded American male would kill to have a woman who loved baseball as much as Sam does.

The conversation easily continues for a while. I feel so calm and relaxed sitting across from her, just like I always used to whenever she was around. I really wish she were sitting next to me or in my lap even. I hate knowing she’s so close, yet so far away at the same time.

Since her guard came down after talking about her marriage, she’s been more open and carefree. Her smiles are coming more frequently, and she’s laughing more. I did this to her… I made her happy. Not that fucker.
Me.
If I were a caveman, I’d be standing on the table grunting and pounding my chest in victory.

I reach out and lightly run my foot up her leg to see how she reacts. She starts choking on her drink. I most definitely took her by surprise. Her face flushes and she looks nervous, but she isn’t telling me to back off. I’ll have to think about what that means later on.

A few minutes later, Sam stifles a yawn and looks at her watch. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I’m disappointed that the night is coming to an end.

“Wow, it’s getting really late. Are you staying at Emma’s?” She asks while digging through her purse.

“Yeah, she lives about twenty minutes from here. I should probably get going before she bitches at me for coming in late and waking up the kids.” I don’t give a shit about Emma bitching. What I’m really sitting here thinking about is ways to prolong the evening… even if they don’t include us horizontal and naked.

“Oh, she has kids?” Sam looks up from what she was doing.

“Yeah, two little girls – Candace and Grace. They’re eight and six, but the way they act, you’d think they were eighteen and sixteen. I love being an uncle though… those girls are just the cutest things.” I can’t help but grin when talking about the munchkins.

She grants me another gorgeous smile before picking up her purse and standing up. I want to beg her to stay, to spend more time with me. I want more than anything to drag her up to her room and feel her beneath me. I want to marry her and make babies with her.

I mentally sigh at the fact that I won’t get any of that. Maybe being her friend isn’t such a good idea, especially if my thoughts keep going this way. Being her friend might be too much torture for me. Although… it is plain to see she isn’t happy in her marriage. She might not have come right out and said it, but you can tell nonetheless. Maybe there is hope for me yet. Maybe they’ll get divorced, and I’ll be able to make my move.

Yeah, and maybe A-Rod didn’t use steroids.

“It was really great seeing you again, Sam,” I whisper in her ear as I pull her into my body for another hug. I have to force my arms to loosen and let her go.

I’m not sure what comes over me when she starts to pull away, but when she does, I grab the back of her neck and kiss her softly. When her lips part slightly under my mouth, I touch the tip of my tongue to hers. My body is screaming at me to take it further, but I know I can’t.

I pull back and look into her eyes. I need to know that she felt what I felt. I need to know I’m not in this alone.

“Jacob, I can’t do this. I’m married and it’s not fair of you to put me in this position,” she whispers and closes her eyes, effectively shutting me out. That’s when I know I’m not going to win her over tonight.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just, I’ve thought about you so many times over the years and wondered what would have happened if we had stayed in touch. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I just couldn’t let you walk away without at least seeing what could be.”

She shakes her head and takes another step away from me. “Nothing can be. I have to go.”

I watch as she walks away from me. I’m not exactly sure what a broken heart feels like, but I’m guessing this is as close as it gets.

Just then, Tiffany walks over and trails her fingers up my arm. “I’m off in a few, want to go somewhere?” She asks with a husky voice, pressing her tits into my arm.

The prospect of losing myself for a little while and forgetting about Sam sounds promising.

“Yeah sure,” I grab her ass and pull her into me. “I’ll meet you outside.”

***

It has been a three weeks since I’ve seen Sam, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Even bedding that waitress from the pub after Sam left did nothing for me. Or the couple of girls I’ve had since then. They are all just poor substitutes. It’s like only having Splenda for your coffee, when what you really want is sugar.

When I close my eyes, all I can see is Sam’s gorgeous face staring back at me. Each time I do, she smiles brightly and crooks her finger at me, silently drawing me towards her. What happens after that depends on where I am at the time. If I’m in public, I have to shut my thoughts down quickly and fight my dick from getting hard. But when I’m alone, she always, without a doubt, proceeds to do dirty things to me. The images my mind conjures up at the thought of her are beyond ‘X’ rated, and I always end up rubbing one out to whatever scene plays in my head.