Chapter 8
8
Heaven
I try not to tense up when I feel the arm wrapped around me, instead, I try to act like I’m still asleep while wondering how I can sneak away.
I’ve been awake for five minutes, not knowing how to remove myself from Travis’s hold. Yet again, I’ve given in and ended up sleeping with him, though this is the first time in ten years he’s still here in the morning.
Every other time, he’s left as soon as we’ve finished, and the bitch of the situation, I slept better than I have in years….
God, what did I do?
It’s not like we did it just the once against the door; no, instead, after he came, he carried me to my room, ate me out like he was starving, then made love to me so good it made me want to cry, before waking me up twice with him inside me. I am one hundred percent happy I checked my birth control pills yesterday morning to ensure he hasn’t messed with them again.
“Fuck, sex hasn’t felt like this in months.”
Yet again, his words swim around in my head, and I flinch involuntarily as I picture him thrusting into her from behind, a look of pleasure on his face.
Even ten years later, I still can’t get over it.
Mom is right, he took pleasure from someone else all because I didn’t want to spend our first wedding anniversary watching a bunch of drunk men screwing, a few months after giving birth, and I can’t forget about it; divorce is the way it needs to go as far as I’m concerned. I won’t be like my mother, I refuse.
“Please get out of your head, Angel,” Travis whispers against my neck before pressing a kiss against my skin, sending tingles down my spine.
I ignore the feeling and try to pull away now that he’s awake, the look of his pleasure drowning me, but his arm tightens, and he begs, “Please, Heaven, don’t.”
My tears form, and before I can blink to stop them, they fall anyway, and I sob, “How can I not when your words ring out every time this happens?”
I feel him nip my skin before he moves his arm, and I move to get up, needing space from him, but Travis has other ideas. He turns me onto my back, making me gasp, then climbs on top of me, ensuring his hips are between my legs, his member pressing in at my entrance before he thrusts, filling me.
He lies flat on my body, ensuring our skin touches before he frames my head. His hand goes into my hair and grips it.
He ensures we make eye contact, his full of regret, pain, and guilt, and he says, “I was drunk Heaven, and no, it’s not an excuse. I was pissed; I drank way too much and made a decision I wish every day I could take back, especially because I know that it has cost me you, it cost me ten years of us, but Angel, haven’t I proven to you over the years that you are all I want?”
I don’t say anything because, in a way, he has. He’s here more than he is at the club. If they have a run, he’ll only go on one once a month, letting me know two weeks in advance. Micha has practice or a football game, even if I’m there, so is he. Most mornings, when I return from work, he has breakfast made as well as a bubble bath drawn.
He’s ensured that I can’t fall out of love with him, though, to be honest, if I didn’t when he cheated, I doubt I ever would…
Travis kisses my nose when he sees I won’t answer him before he places his forehead against mine and whispers, “What about couples therapy to get everything out in the open?” My mouth parts in shock, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss me lightly, then continue, “Please, Angel, try, and if you still can’t get over it, if my stupid drunken words, my horrible mistake, still echo in your mind, then, fuck….” He breathes heavily and then promises, “I’ll sign the papers; just please, Angel, give me a chance to prove to you that I'll never hurt you again.”
My eyes widen in shock at the truth that his words hold, but before I can deny or confirm what he wants—something I don’t know is even worth it when the inevitable is going to happen—our son shouts, “Hey, Mom, is Dad here?” and I swallow hard.
Travis’s eyes race between mine, and whatever he sees causes him to nod, kiss me again, and whisper, “I’ll go make him breakfast. Please, just think about it….”
I swallow hard as he kisses my nose, then removes his member from inside of me, making me feel empty. He climbs off me, covers me with the blanket, before he grabs his jeans, puts them on, and walks out of my room.
“Dad!” I hear Micha shout excitedly, and my tears fall.
In a perfect world, Micha would get his wish, a wish he has asked for since he was small–his parents back together again. But if I couldn’t overcome what he did in ten years, how does he expect me to now?
It wasn’t just some random girl at a bar, it was my high school bully who is now a clubwhore at the club she joined specifically to sleep with him. He sees her daily, and I’m reminded of how they interact whenever I see her.
I mean, it was only last week that Ginger bumped into me on purpose when I walked out of a coffee shop, spilling my hot drink all over me and laughing.
Her exact words were, “Now I know why he chooses me over you every day.”
I shake my head, throw the sheets off me, and stand with a wince. I’m sore but deliciously so, which, of course, makes me huff.
Things would be so much easier if he weren’t everything to me, but he is, and I’m broken without him, yet I can’t move on from what he did….
“He’ll cheat over and over, just you watch Heaven; he’s a man, it’s what men do, you’ve seen this yourself with me. Don’t make my mistakes—cut the cheater off and find someone who can look after you!”
Mom’s words filter in my head yet again, and my tears want to fall. Every time I feel ready to consider talking to Travis about everything, Mom’s voice swims in my head, popping up like an unwanted daisy, and I shrivel back into myself again.
Sniffling, I walk to the bathroom and turn the shower on, hoping the hot water will de-clog my mind.
When I’m sure it’s hot enough, I climb in, put my head straight under the water, and lift my face, closing my eyes, allowing the heat to soothe me, needing it to.
I’m so confused, and if I’m being honest with myself, I have been for ten years. Don’t get me wrong, I did doubt myself once I’d calmed down a few weeks later, wondering if I was making the right choice, wondering if we should talk things through, especially when I saw the bags underneath Travis’s eyes every day he came to the house, begging me to forgive him. But I also knew he broke my trust and did the one thing he knew was a deal breaker for me.
He doesn’t know the ins and outs of my childhood, only that Mom had a revolving door of men and that we moved a lot. He’s not aware of her negative words continuously in my ear day in and day out. He’s not aware that I was nearly attacked several times because the men Mom chose were sleazy, but she didn’t care because she just wanted someone to look after her, to provide for her.
He’s not aware of the crap she continued to tell me over the past ten years, and about how she’s adamant that he’ll destroy me if I give him another chance.
I sigh as the water washes over me. Slowly, I remove my face from the water and wipe my eyes, just as the shower door opens. I don’t have to turn to see it’s Travis.
I don’t move, even as he slowly wraps his arms around me tightly from behind, I stay under the water.
We don’t say anything for a little while, and I don’t know what to say because, yes, I love him, but I think couples therapy is something we should have done at least nine years ago, a year after I filed for divorce, allowing me to get my anger out, but it never came up and I never even thought about it.
Mom’s revolving door of men didn’t involve therapy; after one guy cheated and she forced me to move, another guy came along.
Travis kisses my shoulder, then whispers, “All I’m asking for is a chance. For ten years, I’ve tried to show you that you and that Micah came first. I tried to show you how much I fucking regretted what I did, hoping to rebuild that trust. And yeah, you trust me where our son is concerned because I kept him from the club like you wanted. I was there every step of the way after my fuck up, but you don’t trust me with you.” He kisses my shoulder again. “All I’m asking for is a chance, Angel, something you haven’t given me yet—and before you bite my head off, I know it’s my fault, but ten years….”
I swallow hard before taking a deep breath and turning in his hold. His arms tighten, but as soon as he realizes I won’t remove myself from his embrace, he loosens them and allows me to turn before re-tightening his arms.
As soon as our eyes connect, I say, “Put yourself in my shoes.” He opens his mouth, but I place my fingers over it, causing him to smile and kiss my fingers, making my stomach flutter. I continue, “I was hormonal, not long given birth, and my husband, who was barely home because he was going through the prospecting phase, not only forgot our first wedding anniversary and meal he planned, but then expected my tired, smelly ass to spend it with men fucking out in the open.” He flinches, the man before me no longer the boy he was, realizing his mistake but maybe just too late. “My husband then storms out after calling me nasty names while I had our son attached to my breast, and I had to chase him down, only to find him screwing a whore from behind, claiming how the sex was better than it had been,” my eyes race between his, “why in the hell would I want to give us another chance when I can’t unsee it? And yes, it’s been ten years, but I still can’t get over it.”
His throat bobs, his eyes tearing up as he places his forehead against mine, then whispers, “I’m not the boy who took you for granted, Angel, I’m a man who has grown up trying to fight for what he lost.” He licks his bottom lip. “How about this, we try but keep it between us. We don’t get anyone else involved, and we get everything out with a person between us.” He gently kisses my lips. He begs, “Please, Angel….”
I hate it because a large part of me wants to. I keep going back to him, keep allowing him to sleep with me, but there’s a small voice in my head, pulling me back–my mother's.
“Please…” he tries again, and I sigh, closing my eyes, knowing I’m going to agree.
We need closure; this might be the only way for him to move on and sign the papers.
I nod slightly, and I feel him sag against me before his lips land on mine, and my feet are suddenly no longer on the shower floor. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist before my back hits the shower wall, and his member is thrust inside me, making me gasp.
“Our son is eating and watching TV, which means we have roughly twenty minutes, and like fuck am I wasting them,” he rasps against my lips.
I breathe heavily and mutter, “This is the last time we’re having sex, so make it good.” I mean it, too, because I know therapy will be a bust. I’m too messed up in my head, no thanks to my mother, to forget and overcome what he did.
He narrows his eyes but nods, knowing we need to take sex out of the equation.
He dips his head and takes a nipple in his mouth, gently biting and sucking as he moves his hips back and then thrusts forward hard before swiveling his hips, his pelvis rubbing against my throbbing clit, making me throw my head back in pleasure. He repeats the action over and over, not once letting go of my nipple, sending my body into a frenzy.
After five minutes of him continuing his actions, my body begins to tingle, my stomach tightening, my orgasm building.
“Come for me, Angel,” Travis rasps against my nipple before biting it hard, sending a shock through my body—and that does it.
A scream builds, but Travis quickly covers my mouth with his and swallows the sound as I come all over him, my walls squeezing him tight.
“Fuck…” he groans as his hips move faster, losing rhythm, before he stills with his member deep inside me, his cum painting my walls.
“I love you, Heaven,” he whispers against my lips, “and I know you’re not happy about therapy and giving me a chance, but I can promise you, it will work, and I’ll never hurt you the way I did again….”
He kisses me, his tongue tangling with mine, and yes, I kiss him back, not willing to tell him that I don’t believe him.
My mother ensured I never would.