Broken Play, page 21
It’s strange entering this house after so many weeks. Everything looks the same, but nothing feels the same. I catch myself scanning for items out of place, things that don’t belong. Things that aren’t mine. With some effort, I’m able to push the suspicion and insecurity away.
Drew drops his game bag by the laundry room door and reaches for my hand again.
“Are you hungry?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I ate at the stadium.”
He nods, his eyes flicking between mine.
“Will you try something with me? It’s something Fillmore suggested,” he asks uncertainly.
“What?” My voice is just as uneasy.
“It’s called soul gazing. It’s supposed to allow us to connect without words. She said it aligns our heart chakras, whatever that means.”
A huge grin grows on my face and his begins to mirror it.
“What?” he asks with a smirk.
“Who even are you, Drew McKenna?” My Drew would never know what a chakra was, let alone suggest aligning ours.
“I’m just a man in love with a woman who, rightfully, hates him.”
My chest hitches, skips rhythm.
“I don’t hate you.”
“You hate parts of me, June. Things I’ve done. It’s okay. You should.” His head bows so he doesn’t have to look me in the eyes.
“How do we do this soul gazing?” I ask, and he brings his face back to mine.
“Basically, we get comfortable and stare into each other’s eyes for five minutes. No talking.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I say, but not even I believe the words.
“She said it can be very emotional. Are you sure you want to try it?”
I nod. I am sure I want to reconnect with my husband in some way. I don’t have any hesitations about that.
“I’ll take your bag up to the guest room. You have something comfortable to wear?”
I nod again.
“I’ll go change, too. Meet me in our room when you’re ready?”
“Okay,” I answer. He starts to head away, but I stop him. “Drew?”
He turns back to me, question on his face.
“You looked good today. The game”—I let my gaze travel over him—“and the suit.”
Drew flashes a cheeky grin, then darts upstairs with a little more enthusiasm, picking my overnight bag up on the way.
I don’t immediately follow. Instead, I move to the kitchen and take my time downing a large glass of water. Let it wash away the dryness in my throat and the apprehension in my head. Only then do I go to the guest room to put my big girl panties on.
Or, in this case, my sexy, little lacey ones on.
I push the door to Drew’s room open slowly, my heart racing. He’s in small, skintight black boxer-briefs, slung low on his hips. And not a stitch more.
Drew has always been incredibly fit. His body is his career, and he tends to it with that respect. But, damn, whatever he’s been doing these past two months has taken it to a whole other level. His muscles are more defined, his shoulders broader, that vee just above his happy place more pronounced.
“June,” he says, and it sounds like a warning.
My gaze darts to meet his hungry one. Desire ignites in his eyes, sending shivers through my whole body. I covered my ridiculously sexy underthings with a short kimono wrap. Drew looks at me like he’s got magical vision that allows him to see through it all.
“Come sit,” he calls after he clears his throat.
He’s arranged pillows on the ground for us. The lighting is dimmed somewhat, and my oil diffuser is puffing a soft blend of lavender and bergamot into the room. I take my place on a pillow, sitting cross-legged as I watch him sit opposite me.
“I’m going to set the timer, but if you can’t go the full five minutes, I’ll understand.”
“Same for you, I guess,” I say.
“I could stare at you forever,” he whispers, sending another shudder through me.
He pushes a button on his phone and sets it aside. I follow the movement. Then I take a large gulp of air and look into Drew’s eyes.
If anyone says this is easy, they’re a liar. Eye contact is intimate. It’s intimidating, terrifying. It’s other-fucking-worldly what you see when you look with the intent to see past the surface and into the depths of someone’s soul.
My heartbeat slows, my chest syncing in time with his so easily. Only seconds have passed, I’m sure, but it already feels like minutes. Drew’s mossy eyes storm with so many questions and even more answers. I can hear it all.
Never again.
I fucking love you, Junie.
I miss you.
Never again.
I’ve never deserved you. I never will.
Come home.
Never again.
Need to touch you.
Never again.
Please, love me.
Never again.
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but the despair in his slowly calms into something more wistful. Memories from our lives together play out in my mind. I remember all the times I waited, heart in hand, for the door of our childhood home to open to Reed and Drew barreling in. How Drew’s reaction morphed over the years from cautiously friendly, to feigned indifference, to unconditional love. All the times I knew I was seen by him, even if it was from secret glances or sly nearness.
The first time he held my hand. He was still in high school, and the team had just won the state championship game. My whole family rushed the field to congratulate him. But it was me he hugged first, my hand he held while he received hugs from everyone else. He didn’t let go until his dad took notice of it.
That memory is seared into my heart, forever.
The first time he kissed me is, too. I had just woken up in the hospital and it was as if Drew couldn’t hold himself back from it. Like he couldn’t live another minute without his lips on mine. It was tender, it was relief. It was life.
Drew’s image blurs as my tears well up. I blink and one falls, racing down my cheek to wet my lips.
I want it all back. The happy memories, the years that I believed we were so blissfully in love and invincibly together.
I want it back.
I want it all back.
More tears fall, but I don’t look away. I don’t hide it. If I can see everything in him, he must see it all in me. I want him to fucking feel how much I’ve always loved him. How much I would do for him. How much I would forgive… and know what I can’t.
Never again.
I love you.
I love you.
I’m so sorry.
The alarm on his phone goes off. We both flinch at the intrusion. Drew’s leaves mine to shut it off.
I break. Silently, my body quakes with sobs.
“Hey, hey, come here,” Drew coos as he wraps me up in his arms. Lifting me, he carries me into the bathroom. He sets me on the side of the large tub so he can reach over and start the water. I stare in a blurry daze as he adds some of my favorite bubble bath.
He pulls me to standing, unties my wrap, and drags it down my arms.
“Fuck.”
I lift my face to his.
“What?”
“That is some insanely sexy underwear.”
“Oh.”
He gives me a soft smile. “I’ll buy you more if this ruins it.”
I’m about to ask what he means, but he’s suddenly lifting me again and placing me into the tub. I pull my knees up to rest my chin on them as I watch him set two big towels out and shut the water off when the tub is nearly overflowing. Then he steps in to sit opposite me, boxer briefs still on.
“So, that was pretty intense, yeah?”
“I’m sorry I lost it there,” I answer.
“Don’t apologize,” he says. “Can I touch you? Would that be okay?”
I give him a nod, confused by how gentle and hesitant he’s being with me. Our tub is large enough that he easily spins me around, pulling me into his chest. I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, the rise and fall of his chest lulling my nerves.
Drew starts to massage my shoulders, slowly working down my arms. Between that and the warmth of the bathwater, my body is turning to jelly.
“It’s hard to know how much of what was going through my head was something I saw in you or was just my imagination. You know?”
“Do you want to know what I was thinking?” he asks.
“Is that how it works? Are you supposed to tell me?”
“I don’t know if there are rules to it, but I think we both know communication is exactly what we need.”
“Truth.”
Drew gently sits me forward so he can work the muscles of my neck and back. His thick fingers find every knot of tension in me.
“I was thinking how much I love you, how sorry I am for everything I’ve done. How I’ll never do it again. I miss you. I don’t even know how to tell you how much,” he says before pressing soft kisses on all the places his fingers have been working. “I know those are just words and I need to back them up with actions. I will, though. I mean everything I say. More than I’ve ever meant anything before.”
“Mmm,” I moan when his lips find an especially sensitive spot. “Is this a form of aftercare?”
“I suppose it is. I should have been better at it with you,” he whispers into my nape.
It makes me greedy for more. Needy to touch him, to tease… to please.
“I have something to say,” I say, proud that my nervousness doesn’t present itself in my voice. “We are not back together. Me deciding to stay tonight and whatever happens here changes nothing. We have so much to work through and I still don’t know what we look like on the other side of that.”
“I hear you,” he says, his palm moving to my stomach and pulling me back tightly to his body.
“I need to know you’re clean. I’m deciding to trust you to tell me the truth, despite having every reason not to. If you tell me there is no way you have anything, I’ll believe you.”
It’s an enormous leap of faith, a first step in letting him know I’m willing to consider giving him a second chance. Which might be the wrong call, but I’m not willing to throw us away without a fight and I haven’t fought for us yet. I’ve only fought for myself.
“I took your words to heart after our conversation in Dallas, June. You were right. I wasn’t as careful as I believed I was. I can’t tell you how much that pains me, baby. It’s at the top of the list of reasons I’m hating myself for. I got tested as soon as I got back home. I’m clean.” He hasn’t released any hold on me. Instead, he’s folded himself around me. Cocooning me in his strength.
“You haven’t been with anyone since the test?” The question needs to be asked. I’d be stupid not to. If the answer is anything but no, I’m going to lose my shit, though.
His hand comes up to cup my face, turning my chin so I’m forced to look at him.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you doubt me. I want more than anything to repair that and I don’t want you to think I’m not putting in the work, okay?” he asks. I nod for him to continue. “I haven’t been with another woman since Los Angeles. You’re it for me, and I wish I hadn’t lost sight of that.”
“Okay.” I swallow down the array of emotions working their way up.
“Do you have anything else you want to ask me?”
“Yes, but I’m scared to.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, baby.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Drew. I’m afraid you won’t do what I ask.”
He turns my face farther up to his, turning my body to rest sideways in his arms, and rests his brow against mine.
“Ask me, June.”
I close my eyes and let the words fall out.
“Will you fuck me the way you like to fuck? No holding back. I can take it.”
“Look at me,” Drew demands.
I take a moment, afraid of what I’ll see. When I meet his stare, I see all my feelings reflected at me. Drew wants this as much as me, but there is a speck of fear there, too.
“If anything makes you uncomfortable, you say stop. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“I mean it, Junie. I know you and how you suffer in silence. You cannot do that with me. If it does not feel good, you tell me to stop.” His hand pulls my hair, winding it before he gives it a tug, as if to emphasize his words.
“Okay.”
“Promise me. Say the fucking words.”
“I promise to tell you to stop if it doesn’t feel good. I’ll trust you if you’ll trust me, too.”
His mouth clashes with mine so suddenly I slip down into the water. Drew steadies me by placing a hand low on my back, the other still tangled in my hair. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I moan at the taste of him.
I’ve missed this. The rush of lust, the bone-deep need. I can only hope it doesn’t end with a sizzle like so many times before. I need an inferno. Passion burning away everything outside of the two of us, singing all my frayed edges and hurt feelings. Incinerate it all to the ground, giving us a fresh start at this life.
As quickly as our kiss started, it stops. Drew stands and steps out of the tub. I watch the taut muscles of his ass when they flex as he removes his soaking boxers. He wraps a towel around his waist, then turns back to me, reaching to pull me out of the water. He carries my wet body to the bedroom and stands me at the end of the bed, in the middle of all the pillows that mark the spot of our soul gazing.
“Remove my towel,” he says, his voice rough.
I palm his chest, resting my hands on his hard pecs. Slowly, I drag them down, letting my nails tweak his nipples as they do. I feel every ridge of my descent.
“The towel, June. Now.”
I look up at him through my lashes, trying for innocence that I’m sure my panting betrays. Disregarding his command, I don’t rush. I’m terrified in so many ways, but I’m here to play, to push. To get what I want, to show him I can take but also give. If he wants to ‘correct my behavior,’ all the better.
When my fingertips meet the towel, I dip them in, running them along the edges around to his ass before I push it off completely.
I’m not sure if it’s weird to be infatuated with a dick, but I love Drew’s. Of course, it’s the only one I’ve seen live in the flesh. Regardless, I cannot imagine a more perfect cock. Long and wider than most I’ve seen in porn, just slightly ruddier than the rest of his body, nestled between thick, strong thighs. I realize I’m biased, but damn, it’s a good dick.
Right now, it’s hard as hell. Ready.
“On your knees.”
I still don’t obey right away. Part of me wants to be a brat just to see what he’ll do. Another part of me wants to do exactly what he says. The bigger part is the one that does not want to give anything to him easily because… honestly, fuck that.
So, I stay standing and watch as his eyes narrow on me.
“Do you want me to spank that ass, June?”
“I like spankings,” I answer with a shrug.
Before I know what’s happening, Drew has me pressed up against the bedroom door with my hands behind my back as he leans into me with his bulky frame. Heavy gusts of air puff out of him and onto my damp skin, pebbling it.
“Tonight, you don’t speak to me about him or what you’ve done with him. In this room, you are my wife. You’re mine to play with, not fucking his.”
I laugh. It bursts out without my control or consent, totally ignoring how excited my body is to be this close to Drew. This close to fucking him.
“I don’t think I’m the one who needs reminding that we’re married.”
“Fair enough,” he grinds out, “but don’t think I won’t fucking punish you for that smart mouth, anyway.”
“Feel free,” I taunt.
“Get on your damn knees, June.” He’s no longer speaking pleasantly. He’s worked up. On edge.
It’s exciting, so I do what he says, and he steps in front of me again.
“Open.”
I open my mouth, not wide enough for him to do anything with, but I open it all the same.
“That’s cute. Open your mouth now. Show me that tongue.”
I give a little snarky wink before I follow his instructions. Drew’s lips twitch and his stance widens as one powerful hand reaches for his cock. It’s his right hand, his throwing hand, his dominant hand, and I want it to dominate me.
There isn’t an ounce of fear there. I’m ready for this. I want this more than I can express. Watching him work his hand on his cock makes me hot all over.
Drew makes another small move forward, not close enough for me to put my mouth on him, just enough to leave me wanting more.
While I have no hesitation, I see it in Drew. The same something that always holds him back. The fear that he’ll trigger an anxiety attack in me, or a nightmare, that I’ll see another man in his place. That fright is bleeding through his desire, like it always has before. The longer he stands there, hand on his cock, eyes on my gaping mouth, the more of it I see.
I blink away the image as I snap my mouth shut and quickly fumble to my feet.
“June?”
Stomping out of the room on my bare feet, I slam his door shut behind me and walk into the guest room, straight over to the window where I rest my forehead on the cool glass. I don’t care that the curtains are open and someone outside may see my nearly naked body. I don’t care if they see my shattered ego or my heart bleeding out.
I hear Drew enter my room.
“It shouldn’t be so hard to fuck your wife.”
“You know that’s not it, June. I told you why.”
“And I told you I wanted it. I told you to trust me. I know what I like,” I say to the naked reflection of him in the window.
“I’m scared that will change.”
“I’m scared you never will.”
“I already have. So much,” he urges, and I turn to look at him.
“As have I, Drew. Do you want to know how? I’ve changed because I’m finally recognizing that I have fantasies, too. I’m beginning to see that they won’t be met by you. That I’ll have to find another man to satisfy them. Maybe I can ask Noah. He certainly does a great job in my dreams.”
