Chapter 7
Frankie, one day earlier
Christabelle and I faced one another in the darkness of the coffee shop.
“Frankie, you can’t deny you feel it, too! This insane, crazy chemistry we have. That deep soul connection. Honestly, I tried so hard to find it again after we broke up. I couldn’t.”
“No,” I groaned. “I can’t deny it.”
“If only I hadn’t been so scared when you mentioned marriage,” Christabelle cried, turning her face up to me as tears gathered in the corners of her blue eyes. “If only we could go back in time—”
“We can’t,” I said. “I’m married now.”
“I know,” she said. “You have a wife.”
“Yes. I have a wife.”
My wedding band seemed to burn my fingers as I clenched my fist tight.
If I hadn’t moved on so fast, blocked her number back after she’d blocked mine. . . what would have happened?
Would we still be together today?
“So what do we do now?” Christabelle asked in a small voice, her full lips twisting downward and tears dripping down her cheeks. “I can’t just bury these feelings for you and forget they exist!”
“Maybe it’s best if you leave town,” I said.
“No! It seems so cruel when we’ve just found each other again. We spent ten years apart and I don’t want to do it again. I still—still love you, Frankie.”
I closed my eyes, a throb of regret aching across my forehead.
“I will not cheat on Jillian,” I gritted out. “I made a vow to her.”
“Could we try to be friends?”
“Friends?”
Bleak despair settled on my limbs.
“Kind of hard to remain friends when I want to do things to you that are entirely inappropriate for a married man.”
She stepped closer, her body only a few inches from mine.
“Well, I want to do things to you, too.”
“It’s not possible, though,” I reminded her. “We can’t do anything. It would be wrong.”
“I know it would. But I want to be wrong with you.”
My cock twitched at her words, and I swallowed my desire down into my gut.
“It’s not possible. Maybe if we had found each other at a different time. . .”
I put my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t reach out for the delectable body that was inching even closer to mine.
“What if we just didn’t touch each other?” she panted.
Her breasts were straining at her tight top, with one deep breath those big pink rosy nipples I remembered so well would pop right out. . .
“What?” I asked stupidly.
“I’m consumed with desire for you, Frankie. I need you so badly. All day long. It’s like torture being near you and unable to touch you. Do you feel the same way?”
I shouldn’t say one damn word, I should close my mouth, I should walk out of here right now. . .
“Yes,” I choked out. “I do. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to cheat on my wife. She’s so good to me. So full of love for me. She doesn’t deserve this.”
Christabelle bit her lip, running both hands up and down her hips, over her luscious and tempting curves.
“We don’t have to touch each other. . . it wouldn’t really be cheating then. . .”
My eyes bugged out as she rolled her skirt down, began to slip her fingers past the tight band.
Oh god
My cock was leaking, precum dripping from the tip as she wriggled her hips and her lacy little thong began to slip down her thighs.
“Oh Frankie, you don’t know how many times I’m touched myself and thought of you.”
I closed my eyes against the temptation, against the tip of my ex’s tongue poking out, her hand moving rhythmically under the short skirt.
“This is wrong,” I said, but my hand was moving to my pants, just to adjust, just to relieve the ache there.
Maybe if I didn’t take it all the way out. . .
But Christabelle was thrusting her hips forward and back, her fingers deep in her pussy.
“Oh, Frankie, I want you so badly. . .I never forgot you. . . god I wish these were your fingers. . .”
I squeezed my eyes shut as my fingers closed over my dripping shaft.
I was a married man. . .
I loved my wife.
I was going to stop.
Just a few more seconds.
Just a few more strokes on my aching cock.
Then I’d stop.
But Christabelle’s eyes were blown with arousal, her body so close I could smell every inch of her delicious skin, and her breasts were shaking as her hand began to move faster now, her breath catch on a gasp.
“Oh, I’m coming!”
She threw her head back against the fridge, and my hand was stroking my dick faster, then faster, a ragged groan coming from someone else, someone else entirely, someone who wasn’t a complete bastard. . .
My cum landed with a sickening splat, spraying the floor of my wife and I’s coffee shop, dripping down between the cracks of the wooden floors we’d just refinished last winter.
“This can never happen again,” I croaked hollowly, regret sitting like a stone on my chest, seeping like poison into my bones.
“I have to go.”
I couldn’t be that weak again, I thought wildly as I hurried home.
This was just one mistake.
One mistake she’d hopefully never find out about. . .