Chapter 6 #2
It was because of Vivienne that I’d even met Foster. She’d grown up in Vegas. We’d met our freshman year at UNLV because we’d lived in the same dorm and both majored in biology.
Her plan had been to teach. Mine, medical school.
My sophomore year, I’d moved into a condo with two women from the dorms, but I’d always felt like the third wheel. Vivienne had been in a similar situation, so our junior year, we’d moved in together.
Her father owned a gym in Vegas, the type where they trained boxers and mixed martial arts fighters. One day Vivienne convinced me to tag along with her for a workout.
I walked through the door and Foster was in a ring. He was sparring with another guy, both dripping sweat. I didn’t notice him at first, too busy taking in the place.
Vivi and I were the only women in the building.
Then a timer dinged and the fight in the ring stopped. Foster took the mouthguard from his teeth and laughed. Then his smile drifted my direction and that was the beginning.
It took time for us to get together. There were months of flirting at the gym before he asked me out. But after that first kiss, he was mine. For over a year, he’d been mine.
Why the hell did I have this picture? I’d positioned my fingers on the top edge, ready to tear it in half, when the doorbell echoed through the house.
I dropped the photo like it was on fire.
I scrambled to my feet, backing away from that box as the doorbell rang again.
It was Foster. And at the moment, it felt safer to answer the door, to face him, than to hold that photo. To know I didn’t have the strength to rip it in half.
So I hurried downstairs and to the front door.
He stood with his arms crossed and his jaw set in that adamant line. When I flipped the lock and turned the knob, he strode inside before I could object, forcing me to shuffle backward as he kicked the door closed behind him.
“Foster—”
He silenced me by inching closer. So close I had to crane my neck to keep his gaze.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Did you feel it? At the gym?”
“No.”
“You’re still a horrible liar.” He bent lower, so close that his breath caressed my cheek.
His hand trailed down my arm, and even through the cotton of my scrub top and my long-sleeved shirt beneath, I felt tingles. It was like a spark running along a fuse, moving faster and faster, until it reached the firework and boom.
Foster leaned in closer, his mouth a whisper from my own.
Why couldn’t I push him away?
“Feel that?” he whispered.
Feel it? It was burning me alive.
“I came here to talk.” He reached for my hair, touching the same place he had at the gym.
My gaze dropped to his lips.
“Fuck it,” he growled, then his mouth was on mine, soft and supple and exactly like I remembered.
He swept me into his arms, holding me tight as his tongue stroked my bottom lip before sliding inside. The scrape of his beard pooled desire in my core.
The scent of his cologne swirled around me, rich and masculine. Like fresh-cut cedar and leather. His taste was another memory, Foster with a hint of cinnamon gum.
His lips moved over mine as our tongues tangled in perfect unison. He groaned against my mouth, the vibration sexy and deep in his chest. His hold grew tighter.
Foster kissed me like our lives depended on it.
I kissed him with every bit of frustration and longing and heartbreak and hope I’d kept locked away.
God, what were we doing? Why was I so weak when it came to this man? But I didn’t stop. Not until I felt his arousal dig into my hip.
It was the turning point. Either we ended this kiss. Or clothes would hit the floor.
I tore my mouth away and squirmed to get out of his arms. We were both panting, our eyes locked. His gaze searched mine, maybe for forgiveness. Then he reached for me, but I swatted his hand away.
“Don’t.”
He froze.
I took a step away. “Don’t kiss me again.”
“Talia—”
“You need to leave. Please.” My voice cracked. “You need to leave Quincy.”
His jaw clenched. “No.”
“You promised you’d leave if I asked.”
“You promised to hear me out.”
I raised my chin. “And what if I said it didn’t matter? It’s over, Foster. It’s been over.”
He dragged his thumb across his wet lower lip. “That kiss was not from two people who are over.”
No, it wasn’t. But it was just chemistry. Attraction. That toxic addiction that had ruined me once. “Did you cheat on me with Vivienne?”
I’d asked him that question years ago, the night he’d dumped me.
“Never.”
I’d wanted so badly to believe him then. I wanted so badly to believe him now. I studied his face, searching for the lie. Except I couldn’t see it. I hadn’t seen it years ago either.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked.
“I believed everything about you once. That changed when you married my best friend.”
Foster’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “You don’t know what happened.”
“I was there.” I tossed out a hand. “I lived it. Nothing you say will change the past. Nothing you say will make me forgive you.”
He gritted his teeth. “Nothing? And you call me stubborn. I forgot how infuriating you can be.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you turning this around on me?”
“I’m asking you to just fucking listen.”
“And I’m asking you to leave. I guess neither of us is going to get what we want.”
“You want me gone? Fine. I’m gone.” Before I could speak, he turned and yanked the door open.
My heart cracked as it slammed behind him. The silence that followed was deafening.
I’d asked him to go. I’d wanted this, right?
So why did I feel like going to the garage to cry?