Page 17 of Mercy Lake

I slid on top of Alexis as she welcomed me in her arms. She was still dopey from sleep, a soft smile grazing her lips as she wrapped her legs around my waist.

I cradled her as close as possible, imprinting her into my skin and mine into hers. I kissed her lips and leisurely stroked her tongue. God, I needed her.

Shifting my pelvis back, I settled at her entrance, finding her wet and ready. I entered slowly, wanting her to feel every inch while I savoured each second we were connected in that blissful haze.

Alexis whimpered and writhed. “I’ve missed you, Owen.”

“You never have to, babe. I’m yours. Will always be yours.”

I continued my unhurried torture, pumping in and out as my mouth scattered kisses over her face, down her throat, wherever I could reach.

“I love you, Alexis. So fucking much it hurts.”

I’m sure she could hear the desperation in my voice as her lust-filled eyes fluttered open to search mine. All she found was the truth. I fucking loved her.

Alexis gave a sweet smile and pressed forward, giving me an even sweeter kiss. “As I love you.”

We soon climaxed together, joined so close I didn’t want to part.

I tipped sideways on the bed, ensuring I remained inside her, crushing her to me so tight we inhaled the same air.

That’s how I fell asleep—with my whole world in my arms.

No matter how horrible I was for selfishly stealing that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it, even on her behalf.

That was the last night that I had everything I ever wanted, and I would live on those memories forever.

Slipping off my wedding ring, I accepted the finality of my actions. I had done wrong by my wife, but I would do right by my child.

Drawing in a deep breath, I stood from my crouched position and looked out atourplace one final time as a married man.

The next day, I signed the divorce papers.

Chapter 10

ALEXIS

I was a classic cliché.

A lone woman sitting in some fancy bar, nursing the same drink for the past hour. I wore my favourite black dress, curled my dark brown hair to perfection and applied my makeup like a layer of armour.

It was a complete façade to disguise what was festering beneath.

Empty. Alone. Hollow.

My marriage was officially over. The divorce had gone through, and I’d never felt more conflicted.

Is he pleased? Glad to finally be rid of me so he can play father to his happy family? Did he always harbour feelings for my friend? Was this always the end he envisioned, wanted?

I didn’t know whether I was supposed to be offended or happy that my entire romantic history was wrapped up and concluded in the total time span of six months of separation. That’s what my whole marriage came down to—some money in the bank, a clean bill of health post a humiliating STD check and lingering traumatic memories.

What a load of shit.

I don’t know why I even bothered venturing out in public. Maybe to escape the stifling nothingness of the apartment.

Alicia was away for some work event, and even though my parents had offered to drive down, I had been adamant for them not to. I knew if they came, I’d resort to being a snivelling, weeping mess all weekend.I am just so sick of crying. So sick of hurting and crumbling into a pathetic, paralysed wimp.

Upon that thought, the stool next to me shifted. Instinctually reacting to the movement, my eyes raised to clash with a cloud of stormy grey.

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