Page 97 of Hunt for the Roses
The guy throws me a smile. “No problem. Have a good day,” he says as he waves and walks away.
My eyes follow this man’s retreating form, and I’m cemented to where I’m standing as I feel the re-tightening of my invisible shackles. My emotions will always be in a constant tug-o-war battle, no matter how many steps forward I take with Dane, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to fight.
Don’t stop fighting.
Can I truly keep the promise I just made to Dane?
I feel an arm come around my shoulders. “Hey, you alright?”
I look up at Dane. “Yeah,” I say as I nod reluctantly. “Let’s go home.”
If Dane recognizes my emotions, he chooses not to say anything, and we just wrap our arms around each other to walk back home.
Friday, August 5, 2022
I’m finishing putting the breaded chicken cutlets and asparagus in the oven when I hear a knock on my front door. I open the door and am greeted with Dane, his hair slightly messy on top, and he’s donning a little scruff on his face.
“Impeccable timing you have, I just put dinner in the oven,” I say as I wrap my hands around Dane’s neck and bring him in for a kiss.
“Mmm, to think this isn’t my dinner is disappointing,” Dane says as he nips my shoulder playfully.
I giggle as I wrestle out of his grasp and am now walking in front of him to the kitchen. I hand Dane the glass of Cabernet I poured for him, and I clink his glass with mine before we each take a sip.
“How was work?” I ask as I place my wine on the counter and start washing the mixing bowls and colander in the sink.
“Pretty slow today. I’ve finished a couple big projects yesterday, so it was nice to have a break,” Dane answers as he takes a seat at the eat-in kitchen table.
“Lucky you, I had such a stressful day,” I say with an exaggerated sigh.
Dane plays along. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, you know, reading my book outside on the porch for a couple hours, then coming in here to make a sandwich for lunch, then having to prepare dinner. It was really overbearing,” I say with a smirk. I stop the water once I finish cleaning the colander and wipe my hands with the dish towel.
“Well, maybe I need to help you relax then. From all this unbearable stress,” Dane says as he walks up behind me and places his hands on my hips, resting them on my high-rise denim shorts.
I lay my head to the side to give him access to my neck, and Dane takes the invitation to trail featherlight kisses down my neck. “Mmm, you keep doing that and we won’t be eating dinner soon,” I moan.
I’m making a joke and expect him to make a playful remark back, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he continues to place kisses on my neck as his hands come up under my crop top to grab my breasts over my bra. He purposefully grazes his thumbs over my hard nipples, and I bite my lip as I tilt my head back into him, appreciating the pleasure he’s giving me. Then his lips graze my ear as he speaks in a husky voice. “You still thinking about dinner?”
I reach behind me to grab the back of his neck, and I shake my head in response.
Dane smiles devilishly against my ear. “No?” he asks as he removes his hands from under my shirt and starts to slowly undo the top button on my short sleeve crop top. “What are you thinking about?” he whispers in my ear.
“You,” I breathe out as I close my eyes, and then Dane unfastens the second button on my crop top. His movements are tantalizingly slow, and at this point he knows he’s torturing me. Dane grabs the side of my face and kisses my lips from over my shoulder, deep and wet as our tongues instinctively seek each other’s.
When Dane pulls away from my lips, his hands go to undo the third button on my shirt. “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Dane whispers.
I freeze at Dane’s request, and the blood in my veins runs cold. I can physically feel all the pleasure from the last-minute drain from my body, and I’m positive Dane is witnessing it slip from my face as silence consumes the air around us. I haven’t slept with anyone in our old bed, and I don’t think I ever truly thought about it until this moment when Dane suggests we make love in my bedroom.
Like clockwork, guilt grabs hold of my heart and squeezes the life out of it.
I feel short of breath.
Dizzy.
My lack of words seem to be enough of a reaction as realization dawns on Dane’s face. He swallows a nervous gulp as he peels himself away from me, and I turn my head to stare out the window above the sink as I place two palms flat on the countertop in front of me. Dane’s now turned away from me so his back is leaning against the kitchen counter beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
