Chapter 62

ANNA.

Neil looks at me like I’ve grown another head on my shoulders. Then he closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and starts laughing. No. Laughing is too mild a word for what he does. He guffaws so hard, that Finn stirs in his sleep.

My cheeks burn, and I glare at him. “What’s so funny? Is the idea of being a woman like me so ridiculous? I’m not hot enough for you? I still look great in bikinis. I could switch up the old-fashioned—”

“Stop talking, Brianna. You’re only making it worse.” He walks over and the bed dips as he sits, placing Finn in the free space beside me. My son sticks his thumb in his mouth and his other hand closes around Neil’s finger, holding on tightly.

Lord, is this a sign?

I mean, he’s not bad-looking. His eyes are a glistening blue, like ocean drops, and as he holds my gaze, it feels like he’s cut me open, peering right into my heart and thoughts. His dangerously curved lips tilt upwards, revealing a very white set of teeth, and when he pulls back, his dark hair catches in the light. “You, most certainly are a beautiful woman,” he comments, staring at me with the same intensity with which I watch him. “But I’m not about to get involved with a woman who’s trying to use me to get back at her husband.”

My lips part and then close. “It could be a real relationship if you’d like. I mean, wouldn’t you just like to show up at her wedding with a partner?”

“I’d prefer not to show up at all,” he says, deadpan.

“I like you, Neil,” I try again, placing my hand on his.

He swats me away, managing to look startled and irritated at the same time. “Could’ve fooled me. Stop trying to get under my skin. You’re doing a very terrible job at it.” He makes a face and suddenly mimics me, “Watch your words. I’m a married woman, and stop speaking such nonsense in front of my son.” When he’s done making a mimicry of me, he adds, “Now you don’t mind being queer in front of your son?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, Brianna?”

“That we should have an affair.”

“I’ll pass on that, thank you.”

“Pretty please?”

Neil groans. “I’ll give you some time to sort through your thoughts. Clearly, you’re not thinking straight. I understand that you need an outlet for it all, but stooping to the level of a man who cheats with his assistant is—”

“His assistant?” I ask, my blood turning cold. “What do you mean?”

He pauses. “I thought—” Neil shakes his head. “I could have been mistaken—”

“He was at the counter with Sarah,” I whisper more to myself than to him, recalling that day. My memory is hazed, but it didn’t look like her. Perhaps, it was because I’d never seen her outside her corporate outfits. “Why tell me things in bits?”

“I could be wrong, Brianna,” he insists, and his eyes are shifty. He’s lying. He doesn’t think it was her. He knows.

The possibility of it all isn’t still enough to pull me out of that cold, dark place I have entered. Instead, it hardens the walls I have begun building around my heart; around myself.

If it is indeed true, then it’d make this less difficult. I lean forward suddenly, grabbing a hold of Neil’s collar. I tug hard on the fabric, pulling him closer, and I close my eyes, begging God for forgiveness as I kiss another man who isn’t my husband.

Neil jerks, but I have no intention of letting him go, not until he realizes how serious I am about this.

I’ve only ever been with one man, but that doesn’t make me a saint. Sean used to say my lips could make a man commit a sin. Great. He’s a sinner, I’m a sinner, let’s ruin Neil’s supposed innocence too.

The kiss is nothing gentle. It is fueled by rage, frustration and despair, and sure enough, it’s a language Neil understands too, because he responds, his hands sliding around me and yanking me forward, into him. My arms curve around his neck, pulling on the drip, but I pull it out, needing no distractions that could make me remember I wasn’t a petty person, and I shouldn’t be letting my boss shove his tongue into my mouth.

The cold melts and the walls crumble when Neil’s fingers delve into my hair, his free hand trembling against the small of my back where the buttons hold the flimsy hospital gown together.

I might be the only woman in history who’s making out right after a miscarriage, but I need this…burn.

He deepens the kiss, pushing against me fiercely, and heavens shame me, I moan into his mouth when he rips the button. I’ve never had it rough, or been handled roughly, so I couldn’t have possibly known that having a man so hungry, and out of character could bring pleasure too. My core heats and tightens, mingling with subtle cramping in my abdomen, and I have no idea if I’m in control anymore.

Neil grips my shoulders and pulls me apart from him so hard, that my head spins. “Fuck!” he yells at me, getting off the bed, running his hand through his hair, and he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.

I’m staring at the door, an entangled mess of emotions that I have no idea what to do with courses through me. My gaze flicks to Finn, who seems undisturbed, and I wait for the feeling of guilt to come. Or shame. Or self-loathing. I don’t feel any of those things. Instead, there’s a yawning pit of hunger unraveling within me. I press my hand to my stomach. The painkillers are starting to wear off, but it’s very bearable. I raise my hand to my lips.

Again. I want to kiss him again.

As if hearing my thoughts, he bursts in through the door and walks over to me, grabbing my wrist. He pulls me out of the bed, and I stumble a little, trying to catch up with him as he drags me out, bringing me to the space in my ward that I didn’t notice was private and well-furnished until now.

“Boundaries!” he yells again when he believes we’re far enough not to wake Finn. “There are things you do NOT—”

“You pulled me out of bed to scold me?” I ask, unsure how to salvage the situation. He’s angry. I can’t tell if I’ve ever seen him mad at me before. Not even when I slapped him and sent him out of my apartment, not even then was he mad at me.

“Never, ever, do that again—”

I do it again. I think I’ve really lost my mind. I push up on my feet and press my lips against his.

The whining bastard doesn’t stop me. He scoops me up, carefully wrapping my legs around his hips, and my back hits the wall as his tongue pushes past my lips, caressing mine. I hold on to him tightly, even if I’m pretty much secured between his rock-hard muscles and the wall behind me.

His lips leave mine and I gasp when he drags his teeth over my neck, kissing and biting softly. His fingers are hot against my skin as they ride up my thighs, and he groans as he squeezes my skin. He whispers my name against my lips as those big hands of his rise up my sides, and I arch into his touch, breathing hard.

My fingers plunge into his hair as his fingers curve under my breasts. I have nothing underneath, and I feel self-conscious for a moment when he cups them and they fall into his hands almost willingly. He groans and cusses, grinding his hips into the vee of my thighs.

I grab at his clothes, so eager to feel the skin under those concealing clothes; eager to imprint the feel of it on my memory and forget what Sean smelled like, tasted like.

Surprisingly, it isn’t so difficult, and guilt gnaws at me as I give in to Sean’s hands, lust overwhelming with the need to see this to the very end. I pull a little too hard and the buttons of his shirt pop. He lets out a low laugh against my skin, and the vibrations go all the way to my core. “Impatient…” His murmurs, his voice thick and deep. His fingers flick over my nipples at the same moment that he pushes his hip into mine again. My hips buck and…

I suddenly want his clothes off. All of them. Heat singes my skin, and I purr when he licks my neck and pinches both my nipples simultaneously. The sound seems to break whatever leash he has left, because he pushes us off the wall, walking us into a couch, and he lowers me to it gently.

When he pulls away, his eyes, dark with need take me in. “We really shouldn’t.”

“I want to. I need to,” I whisper. “Please.”

He presses a finger to my lips, and I stick out my tongue, licking the tip of it. He shudders and stretches over me. “There are cameras in here, Brianna.”

“I didn’t notice,” I say breathily as his hands begin distracting me again, sliding between my thighs.

I lift my hips, urging him on, but pain suddenly ripples through me and something warm trickles out of me.

“Shit,” I cuss, rolling off the couch, and Neil catches me before I can crash into the ground. His fingers tighten around my shoulders and his brows pull together, worry darkening his gaze. “Are you hurt?”

I smile a little. “Sort of, but—”

His hands slide under my knees, and he carries me, cradling me to his chest as he takes me back to the ward. “I’ll get the nurse,” he murmurs, frowning as he lowers me to the bed.

I lean back against the pillow, suddenly feeling tired, but I manage a rueful smile. “Does this mean you agree?”

He turns, walking to the door, and for the first time, I notice how good his backside looks in those grey pants. “Keep on dreaming, Brie.”