Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (16 page)

He’s right, regardless of our feelings; we need to do what’s best for the kids. I can’t satisfy this need he’s causing in me. This change will be hard on all of us, but if Dalton, Striker, and I can work hard at doing the right thing, then we can move on from this and find a happy future. I don’t want a separated family. I can only hope that we can come to an agreement that satisfies all our needs and keeps us close.

Suddenly the cool air sweeps across my face. I slowly open my eyes to watch Striker retreat into the house. Shit, I’m in trouble. I know I need to go check on Dylan, but I’m completely turned on right now. I’m not sure I can focus on anything other than the fact that my panties are soaked; I’m throbbing, in need of release. My emotions are all over the map today, and my brain is having a hard time keeping up.

Walking into the house I see my younger two boys playing video games in the living room. “Hey guys, Mom’s going up to her room to call Dad, okay? I’ll be down in a little bit and we’ll have dinner.”

Neither one responds but I don’t push and continue up the steps. Music is pouring through Dylan’s door, which means he wants to be left alone, so I walk to the end of the hall and enter my room. Pushing my door shut, I turn the lock, and rush to my dresser. I rummage through my top drawer, disheveling the clothes until I find what I’m looking for. By the time I make it into my bathroom, I feel like I might explode.

All I can think about are the times that Striker and I were together, when we were younger. I can remember most of them like they were yesterday. The feel of his hands traveling over my skin, his grip tightening on my hips when he would lose control, every time was binding, bringing us closer together. The throbbing continues to grow, and I become aggravated as this need takes over.

I’m trying to slide my pants down with my good hand, but it’s taking me extra time. Finally, I get them to my upper thigh and lean back onto the bathroom sink, slightly spreading my legs. I grab my vibrator and place it against my flesh and immediately feel some relief as the pleasure takes hold. Ah, I need this. My head falls back, and I concentrate on nothing else but how great it feels to touch myself with images of Striker in my head. I picture him bending me over this very sink and sliding deep into me. Punishing me for all the wrong I’ve done to him.

A churning builds in the pit of my stomach, and my legs become a little weak as I feel my orgasm rise. I try to balance myself on the sink, unable to use my injured hand to gain stability. When the next wave of pleasure rushes over me, I slide down, so I’m sitting on the cold tile floor. Before I know it, heat erupts throughout my entire body, and an explosive pressure causes an uncontrollable moan to escape my lips as my orgasm hits.

I feel my chest rise and fall as forceful breaths pass through my nose. The pounding in my chest starts to slow, and the reality of what I just did starts to emerge. What am I doing? I hate this. My feelings and need for Striker are not something I should be satisfying.

I need Dalton to return home for this to work. I can’t be apart from him, while trying to work out my feelings, and all of the change that’s taking place in our lives. Striker will be a permanent fixture now and adjusting to the fact that he is only the father to my oldest son will be tough. Our life together died a long time ago.

I calm myself and decide to focus on my issues later. Right now, I need to check on Dylan. His door is still closed, so I knock softly and turn the knob to enter.

“Dyl, honey it’s me. I just wanted to check on you,” I say while pushing his door open. My eyes land on Striker and I stop in the doorway. They are both looking in my direction and I’m not sure what to do. The last thing I expected was to see them in here together, but I know Striker was dying to work things out.

“Can you give us a bit, Rea? We’ll be down for dinner in a few,” Striker says in a calm tone.

“Um, yeah. Take your time. I’ll go cook, but we’ll wait for you guys before we eat.” I slowly shut the door. Dylan looks okay and it gives me hope that he will be able to work through this. I stand outside his door for a minute, hoping to hear what they are talking about, but I’m having a hard time making out their words. I turn to walk away and the sound of Dylan’s laughter stops me. I lean my head against his door and soak up the sound. A smile pulls at my lips and a sort of peace washes over me. He’s gonna be okay.

Dylan is a person to look up to, even though he is my son, I can learn from him. He has the ability to find the good in everything. Even though I’m still angry with myself for causing him pain, I also feel a sense of pride for raising such a strong boy. My heart swells and I leave them alone to have their moment in private.

Chapter Fourteen

Reagan

“Hey, Rea is everything packed and ready to go?” Striker yells up the steps.

“Yeah, it’s all ready to go out to the car. I just need your help when you have a minute,” I respond, as I finish getting dressed.

Things are going better than I expected. Striker and Dylan have been spending as much time alone as they can. My other boys responded to the news like they couldn’t care less. What a surprise. I swear they can’t think past who’s ahead in their video games most days, but I’ll take their carefree response and run with it because the drama is starting to settle and it feels good.

I’m really missing Dalton though, but he called last night to tell me he should arrive home within the next week. I’m dying to see him and feel his love for me. I’ve been able to keep things on a platonic level with Striker, since our little episode a few days ago, and have enjoyed the friendship we are slowly building with one another. It’s tough to start anew, but since we put our past out in the open and forgiven each other for mistakes we’ve made, things have been easier, so we are headed out tonight for some drinks.

Riley was nice enough to offer to keep the boys overnight. I’m looking forward to a child-free evening and some time out of the house. I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and a moment later Striker appears in the doorway.

“Hey, what can I help you with?”

He is standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and I quickly rake my eyes over him to take in his appearance. His hair is styled in that messy but perfectly placed way. His shirt is stretched across his chest and fits snug to his biceps. It’s a dark blue button up and the sleeves are rolled to just below his elbows, matched with jeans that fit him perfectly and end with black boots. This is the most put together I have seen him. It takes me a moment to remember what I called him up here for.

Clearing my throat, I find my voice. “Um, I just need help with my hair.”

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” he asks as he steps closer.

“Can you help me wash and blow dry it?”

“You gotta be kidding me. I don’t know how to do hair, Rea. You can’t just do it?”

I hold up my splinted hand, giving him a wry look. I stick out my lower lip looking for pity. “Please, I haven’t been out in forever, and I just want to look nice, for once.”

He looks around the room like he can’t decide what to do. I know he won’t tell me no. He’s too good of a guy for that. “Fine, but I can’t promise it will go well.”

“I don’t do anything fancy, it won’t be hard.” I grab his hand and lead him into my bathroom. Once I kneel on the floor, I hang my head over the edge and spray warm water over my hair. “Can you grab the shampoo and work it through my hair? Scrub my scalp really good, I haven’t been able to do a good enough job on my own.”

I hear him sigh and the sound of the cap shutting echoes through the bathroom. Striker’s hands slide over my hair, and then he begins to massage my scalp, working the shampoo into a lather. This feels so good; I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. He keeps going, and then works the shampoo out to the ends of my hair. I think he is finished, but makes his way back up and is massaging me again.

I don’t even get this much pleasure from the hair salon. Before I know it, a moan slips past my lips. I feel Striker’s hands freeze, for a fraction of a second, before continuing. “You’re really good at this, Strike.”

He pulls away. “Ok, I guess go ahead and rinse, then we can put in the conditioner.” His voice is tight, but I can’t see his face to understand why he sounds off.

“You okay?” I ask, trying to turn my head to see his face, but he steps out of my line of sight.

“Fine, just rinse. I want to get out of here soon. I could really use a drink.”

“Okay, I’m ready for the conditioner now.”

There is some commotion behind me, and then he is working the conditioner through my hair as quickly as he can. “There you go.”

I’m not sure what his hurry is, we can’t drop the boys off for another hour. I take my time rinsing out the conditioner and am about to turn the water off, when I decide to have a little fun. He’s been uptight for most of the day and could use a little laughter. I catch a glimpse of his feet. He’s turned away from me, so I take the opportunity to put down the showerhead and turn the water on cold. Once the temperature has dropped, I pick it back up and turn toward Striker, spraying him with the frigid water.

His back tenses but he doesn’t move. I continue to spray him for a few seconds and then turn the water off. I can’t help but chuckle to myself and reach out to grab a towel for my hair.

“Did you really just fucking do that?” He turns to face me with a stern look as I towel dry my hair.

“Yeah, lighten up. You’ve had a stick up your ass all day. Put a smile on your face and have a little fun. I don’t want to go out with you if you’re going to be grumpy.”

He saunters toward me, crowding my space, my head tilts back so I can watch him contemplate his next move. His jaw is clenched and his eyes roam over my face. Before I know it, his arm is wrapped around my waist, and he is carrying me into the shower. He keeps my body pinned to his as he turns the water on and flicks the switch for the showerhead. I squirm and squeal, trying to break free from his grasp, but there’s no use. I’m nothing against his strength.

Ice-cold water rushes over my head and down my face, my shirt is soaked and the water is traveling down to my jeans, causing everything to stick to my body. I’m shivering from the cold, but he doesn’t let up. Finally I’m able to break free and use my good hand to reach for the nozzle. “Striker, stop! Wait, my splint, it’s getting all wet.” I can’t help but laugh because I feel like a kid again, wrestling over the showerhead. Striker’s laughter resonates around me and we continue to goof around. He gets his arm back around my waist, pulling my back toward his chest, guiding me away from the spray. The sound of running water stops and a second later our feet slip on the wet tile. I yelp as we land hard on the floor.

His arm is still wrapped around me, holding me tight on his lap. We are shaking with laughter.

“Are you okay, Striker?”

“Fine, here let me help you up,” he says, as he slides me off his lap and begins to stand reaching for my hand. “Well, I guess I need to go get ready again.”

“Yeah, me too, but can you help me with my hair first?” I ask.

Striker is running his eyes down my body, taking in my soaked appearance. I look over and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Not much is left to the imagination. I hadn’t gotten around to putting on a bra yet, and my soaked white t-shirt is clinging to my cold wet skin. The darker flesh of my hardened nipples shows through and the flatness of my stomach is defined, causing me to appear almost naked in front of him.

I catch his eyes with mine and see the desire darken his stare. My breath quickens as we stand feet apart, neither one of us moving. Suddenly Striker shakes his head as if trying to break the haze we have both fallen into. I’m still standing here exposed to him. Lifting my arms I cross them to cover my chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

He looks down to the floor, waving a dismissive hand at me. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just going down to change. You okay here, then?”

“Yeah. I’ll be ready in a bit,” I respond and watch as he leaves.

Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and berate myself for being so stupid. What was I thinking? Things have been going so well between us, and I have the great idea to have a wet t-shirt contest, with a man that I know has a tough time maintaining a strict, ‘friends only’ relationship with me.

I pull myself together enough to finish applying my makeup and dress in my black leggings, with knee high dark brown boots, and a loose beige sweater that hangs off of one shoulder. I’m not overly done but feel sexy. I do my best with my hair and decide to have Riley help me when we drop off the boys. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I see my confidence has faded. What if I ruined our night out, already, by pulling that stunt earlier? My self-doubt starts to take root.

Damn it! I need this. A night out with a friend to hopefully reminisce and find that bond we once had, before we decided to throw it away for a short lived love affair that ended in disaster. While the lust and deep pull is still there between us, I have learned, over the years, that a loving marriage is so much more than not being able to keep your hands off one another. Dalton has proved to me that standing beside someone through all of life’s hardships and happy moments means more than any physical connection. A love that you work for can be just as rewarding and more binding over time.

I keep moving in hopes that when Dalton comes back home, I can balance this new life. I hope his presence will help put out the fire burning inside me; to throw it all away and give into the physical desires my body craves. Because that’s all this can be, right? A physical connection, at least that’s what I keep telling myself, but if that were true, wouldn’t Striker have moved on by now? And why did I stay angry for so long? I have to put a stop to these thoughts.

Taking one more look at myself in the mirror, I pull my shoulders back with a new determination. I want to be strong and do what is right, especially since I’ve done everything wrong this far. The future I want to provide for my children is one full of stability. I can’t provide that to them, if I can’t find the strength in myself to put certain feelings aside. With a strength of mind, I gather my things and head out for an evening of fun with a man that is not only going to be one of my best friends, but an awesome father to one of my favorite boys.