Unforgiven Page 11

  “Come here.” Jonah’s long arms spin me around and he pulls me into his chest.

  “Jonah, now’s not a good time. I need to be alone.”

  “You need me,” he says firmly. “The last thing you need is to be alone.” His embrace is comforting yet foreign as I stand in his arms and let him hold me.

  “Look at me, Lindsay,” he finally says as his arms release me. “You are stronger than you think you are, but you need to believe it.”

  “I don’t believe in anything right now,” I confide in him. Jonah rests his hands on my shoulders and tips my head back so that I’m looking at him.

  “You’re beautiful, and strong, and…” His voice trails off. His hands move from my shoulders to my neck and he rubs his thumb gently across my bottom lip. “… and beautiful.” His eyes search mine, looking for resistance or an invitation, but I am numb. Without waiting any longer, he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. His lips are warm and soft and everything I don’t want right now, yet I can’t say no—I am weak, and he has the upper hand. Closing my eyes, I welcome his kiss, needy and hungry.

  My hands rest low on his sides, my fingers brushing the warm skin just under the hem of his shirt.

  “Lindsay,” he mumbles between desperate kisses, but I ignore his warning. My hands move under his shirt, finding the rigid muscles of his stomach. My hands explore his solid stomach, brushing against a light sprinkling of hair as they find their way up to his chest. He breaks our kiss and pulls away from me slightly before pulling his polo shirt over his head and tossing it onto the kitchen floor.

  His skin is a perfect golden color, and a slight tan line peeks out just above the waistband of his shorts. I reach out, pulling him closer to me, pressing my lips to the center of his chest. His skin is soft and warm and he smells like body wash. He wraps his arms around me again and holds me tightly. He gasps quietly as I fumble with the button on his khaki shorts and, in one swift motion, I pull down his shorts and boxer briefs at the same time. I follow their descent to the floor and kneel before him.

  “Lindsay.” He reaches for my arm, pulling me back to my feet. “Not here.” I nod and he laces his hand through mine as he steps out of his shorts and leads me toward the bedroom.

  A flood of emotions and thoughts cross my mind as we walk quietly, hand in hand. It’s late afternoon, so the bedroom is light. Jonah pulls the long, sheer curtains as I step out my heels and unzip my dress.

  “Let me,” he says quietly as he approaches from behind me and finishes unzipping me. The dress falls to the floor and pools around my feet. His finger trails down the curve of my spine, tracing it from neck to bottom, slow and soft before he lifts my silk slip over my head. He sweeps my long, blonde hair over my left shoulder and I feel the press of his lips against the back of my neck. His erection pushes against my backside and my body falls back into his.

  His fingers unclasp my bra and he pushes it forward down my arms. “Turn around,” he says as he guides me by the shoulders. My arms instinctively wrap around my waist, hiding the sagging skin and my small breasts.

  “Don’t do that,” he instructs as he pulls my hands down so they rest at my sides. “You’re beautiful—all of you,” he says, his eyes inspecting me from head to foot. “Lie down.” I step backwards slowly until the backs of my legs hit the soft down comforter of my bed. I hesitate momentarily before sitting down on the edge of the bed and sliding myself to the center. The bed sinks as Jonah lies down next to me. There is a moment where I have a fleeting thought of stopping this, telling him to leave, but I don’t—I welcome his touch, even though I hate myself for wanting it.

  “Touch me,” I whisper and close my eyes. He accepts my invitation and presses himself up against me. He runs his hand from my stomach up to my breasts, squeezing each one gently. He’s slow and methodical in his exploration. He traces my collarbone, which sends a shiver down my spine, and lightly traces small circles down my belly to the top of my panties, the only thing I’m left wearing.

  “I love the way you look in red lace,” he whispers against my stomach as he runs his tongue across my skin, kissing my bellybutton.

  His fingers hook the top of the panties and I raise my hips as he tugs them down my legs, throwing them on the floor behind him. He rubs each of my legs starting at my ankle working his way up. My body trembles at his touch, a combination of fear and shame.

  “Relax,” he says, pressing his mouth against my inner thigh and kissing it delicately. He holds me firmly in place. The wetness from his tongue mixed with the cool air spreads goose bumps across my skin. His mouth moves higher from my thigh upwards. I gasp when I feel his warm body hovering over me… my body aching with need, with want… with guilt.

  His firm hands press my thighs apart and hold me captive as I hold my breath waiting—wanting. “Jesus, you’re beautiful, Lindsay,” he says just before his tongue slides into me. I gasp at the sudden, yet welcome intrusion. My body deceives me when it reacts to Jonah’s touch, flooding me with warmth. I lie open, vulnerable—aching—and Jonah is fulfilling a need I only want Matt to fulfill. I close my eyes and swallow back the disgust I have for myself.

  “Lindsay,” I hear him say my name as I breathe deeply, the effects of the Oxy finally taking hold. Jonah kisses his way up my body from my stomach to my neck. His breathing is ragged—heavy. “Condom,” he mumbles as he presses kisses to my neck and jawline. I lie numbly as my body tumbles over the edge—an adulteration of pleasure and anguish swirled with anticipation. I’m truly fucked up, I think to myself.

  “Lindsay,” he says again, pressing more kisses to my neck. “We don’t have…”

  “Drawer,” I respond. Jonah leans across me and slides the bedside drawer open, pulling out a condom. I hear the tear of the wrapper and feel the bed move as he prepares himself. I lie motionless, one arm pressed against my side, the other raised above my head. Jonah settles between my legs and holds my face in his hands.

  “Look at me, Lindsay,” I hear his voice as I fall further away with the help of the pills. I find his beautiful brown eyes just as he slides into me with one gentle push. “Lindsay,” he says as he laces his hand in mine above my head and steadies himself with his other. His movements are slow, caring, and gentle and I hate myself for the conflicted feelings I have. My eyes fill with tears as I look away from him, my head falling to the side as I fade away and feel nothing at all.

  I awake to the moon peeking through the sheer curtains of my room and the sound of the television on in the living room. My body is sore and my head is pounding—the repercussions of combining alcohol, Oxy, and another man’s touch—I hate myself.

  I crawl out of bed and into the bathroom, where I hover over the toilet and dry heave. My stomach muscles cramp as I heave over and over and yet my body expels nothing. I should be used to this by now, but my body still insists on punishing me. Resting my head on the toilet seat, I breathe deeply as my stomach begins to calm. With just enough strength, I push myself up to a standing position and walk to the sink. The reflection in the mirror disgusts me as I wipe my nose with a tissue and toss it onto the bathroom counter.

  I brush my teeth and run a comb through my long, stringy hair. Twisting it up into a makeshift bun, I secure a hair tie around it and turn on the shower. While the water warms, I find some aspirin and take four in hopes it will ease the pounding in my head and the ache that has settled throughout my body.

  Stepping into the hot water, I inhale sharply as it pricks my skin. I rest my forehead against the ice-cold tile and close my eyes. My body shifts from side to side ever so slightly as I’m overcome with a dizzy spell. I place my hands on the wall to steady myself as the water washes away my sins.

  I finish my shower and throw on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. I pull the hair tie from my hair, leaving it long and loose. When I open my bedroom door, I find Jonah lying on the couch, watching a baseball game on the TV.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, pushing himself up to a sitting positio
n. I lean against the doorjamb and watch him as he turns the volume down on the TV. He’s put his shorts back on, but his chest remains bare. He runs a hand through his messy hair and smiles at me. “Come here.” He pats the space on the couch next to him. I walk toward him hesitantly, my palms sweating. As I squat to sit down, Jonah pulls me into his lap and I’m too weak to resist. He holds me as one would hold a small child in their lap.

  He presses a kiss to my temple, then wraps his arms around me before he rests his chin on my shoulder. “I ordered pizza about fifteen minutes ago. You’re going to eat,” he says quietly.

  “Okay,” I say, my voice as shaky as my body.

  “You’re trembling,” he says and runs his hands up and down my arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I lie, turning my head away from him in an attempt to locate my purse.

  “Lindsay, talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing wrong, I promise,” I say, turning back to him and offering him a fake smile. Just then, the doorbell rings and Jonah kisses my forehead as he lifts me off his lap and sets me on the couch.

  “Pizza’s here.” He jumps up and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. While he gets cash and pays for the pizza, I jump from the couch and head toward the kitchen island, where my purse sits. Reaching inside, I push and twist the white cap off the pill bottle and shake two pills into the palm of my hand. Jonah is closing the door as I toss them in my mouth and swallow hard.

  “Wine?” I ask as he sets the large, cardboard pizza box on the counter.

  “Sit down. I’ll get it.” He pushes me toward the tall barstools that sit at the kitchen island. “So I was thinking.” He smiles as he pulls plates down from the cupboard. “Maybe this weekend, we could go out again, maybe get some Mexican food and a movie?”

  I watch him as he carefully pulls the slices of pizza from the box and sets a piece on a plate for me.

  “I can’t this weekend. My friend Jess is coming into town with her fiancé, Gabe. She’s staying with me while he reconnects with some of his friends.” Jonah shoves the plate with pizza in front of me.

  “So what are you guys going to do?” He takes a bite of pizza and waits for me to answer.

  “Not sure. She was supposed to come with me to work on Saturday. I was given the morning anchor desk on Saturday before everything happened.” I pause. “Anyway, she was supposed to come with me. We met while interning together at a TV station back home in Wilmington.” I pick at the crust of the pizza and put a small piece in my mouth.

  “So now you’re just going to hang out?”

  I shrug. “Something like that. We’ll find something to do. Besides, it might just be nice to sit back and catch up.”

  “Well, I’m sure the guys will be over tomorrow night if you guys want to stop by.”

  I shake my head rapidly. “No, she’s not like that.”

  “Like what, Lindsay?”

  “Into the drugs…”

  “Neither am I. I don’t do that. What Dominic does is Dominic’s business, not mine.”

  “I watched him snort something off your kitchen counter the first time I met you. I think that qualifies as your business,” I say angrily.

  “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I sit up tall and toss my shoulders back.

  “The pills, Lindsay. I know you’re using. I can see it in your eyes. I can tell when you take them and all of the sudden you relax, you stop shaking, you calm down—and you laugh. It’s the only time I see you smile,” he says with an edge of irritation.

  I swallow hard against my dry throat and plan a snarky come back, but he cuts in before I have a chance.

  “It worries me, Lindsay.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” I drop my eyes to the wine glass that sits in front of me. I can’t look at him as he confesses his concern, knowing I just swallowed two more pills.

  “I will worry. I care about you.”

  I snort as I pull the wine glass to my lips and swallow the cool Pinot Grigio. “What?” he asks, glaring at me.

  “So if you know I’m using, why did you fuck me while I was high?” In a flash of anger, he moves around the kitchen island and pulls me from the chair I’m sitting on. It’s sudden and quick and it scares me. My heart beats wildly as he grips my arms—hard.

  “What the hell did you just say? Are you accusing me of something?”

  “No, no accusations. I’m just curious; if you’re so concerned about me, why did you fuck me while I was high?” I raise my chin in a show of defiance.

  He just stares at me and shakes his head in disgust. Good. Hate me. Everyone else does. He lets go of me and grabs his wallet off the kitchen counter and stuffs it into his back pocket. He pulls his shirt off the floor and puts it on.

  “Get this through your head, Lindsay. I never fucked you. Never. It was more than just a fuck to me. Second, I didn’t know you were high until you started crying, slurring your words, and called me ‘Matt.’” In four brisk steps, he walks out my door and slams it behind him, startling me. I bury my head in my hands and wonder what else I can fuck up.

  My phone vibrates on the nightstand, pulling me out of a hazy slumber. The sun is shining brightly through the sheer curtains and my head swirls in dizziness. “Shit,” I mumble as I roll onto my stomach and reach for the buzzing phone. With one eye open, I see Jess’ name flashing on the home screen and I swipe the answer icon.

  “Hello,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  “Linds, we’re almost there!” Jess squeals into the phone. “You’re probably still at work, so I’ll just have Gabe drop me off tonight.” Glancing at the alarm clock, I see that it’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. I exhale loudly and roll onto my back.

  “No, change of plans. I’m home this weekend. I’m not working. You can have Gabe drop you off as soon as you get into town.”

  “Even better. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” I tell her before I drop my cell phone onto the floor and stare at the ceiling above me, watching it spin in slow circles. I close my eyes and breathe deeply as I run through the mini-checklist of things I need to do in the next thirty minutes before Jess arrives. Forcing myself out of bed, I stumble into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I twist my hair into a messy bun and brush last night’s two bottles of wine from my teeth and tongue, gagging as I do it.

  I stick my head under the water faucet and lap at some of the cool water, swishing it around my mouth before swallowing. I still feel parched as I step into the warm shower and quickly wash my body and face. Drying myself quickly, I pull on a short silk robe and strip the sheets from my bed, stuffing them into the washing machine and turning it on.

  My room is a complete disaster with piles of clothes, accessories, and shoes strewn everywhere. I haven’t cleaned this place since I moved in. While a mess like this would have sent the old Lindsay into a fit of OCD-induced rage, I just step over the piles of clothes and look forward to losing myself in the numbness that only the Oxy can provide. I sit on the edge of the bed and bury my head in my hands, rubbing my temples gently, urging the pounding headache to go away. My stomach turns and nausea overcomes me again. I’ve come to realize how much I appreciate the comfort of the OxyContin pills. They kill the nausea, the shakes, the trembling, and the headaches—I’ve become dependent on these stupid pills simply to function.

  I punch the mattress and flex my shaking hand at the thought of needing the pills, no longer just wanting them to keep my emotions at bay. Yanking open the nightstand, I pull out the bottle of pills and take two. I’m down to my last four. Shit. On wobbly legs, I walk back to the bathroom and turn on the water. Popping the pills into my mouth, I fill my hands with water and drink from them.

  Standing up, I use a hand towel to wipe the newly formed sheen of sweat from my forehead and cheeks. I close my eyes and will the pills to start working before Jess arrives. Just then, the do
orbell rings and I whisper a silent prayer to whoever it is that’s answering them today, take a deep breath, and push myself away from the bathroom vanity and toward the front door.

  I take note of the condition of my living room and kitchen as I dodge throw pillows and empty wine bottles. “Coming,” I holler as the doorbell rings again. I pull the door open and Jess launches herself into my arms. I can’t help but laugh at her. She’s taller than me, so my chin rests on her shoulder and I get a mouthful of her long, wavy hair.

  “Linds,” she whispers and squeezes me tighter. My throat tightens and tears sting the back of my eyes. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too,” I admit. And I have. Jess was my only girlfriend in Wilmington. My friends from high school moved away for college and never came back. When I returned after graduating, I dove head first into my internship at WXZI and it was me and Jess. I hear a man clear his throat and Jess pulls out of our embrace.

  “Oh my gosh. Lindsay, this is Gabe. Gabe, Lindsay.” He sets down the two bags he’s carrying and reaches out his tan hand to shake mine. Gabe is tall and gorgeous with dark brown hair and almost golden eyes that stand out against his tan skin and dark lashes. He’s striking—and muscular. I notice his arms flex as he shakes my hand. I realize I’m standing in a silk bathrobe and I make sure I’m covered and tighten the belt on the robe. I catch Jess looking around the messy condo and she looks back tentatively to Gabe.

  “Sorry for the mess. I’ve been so busy at the station this week that I just haven’t cleaned up.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jess smiles. “I’ll help you.” She sinks into Gabe’s arms and gives him a quick hug and kiss and all but shoves him out the door. I smile as I watch her assure him she’ll be fine and will call him later.

  “I can’t believe it’s been almost two years since we’ve seen each other,” Jess says as she kicks off her shoes and sits down on the couch. She pulls a throw pillow into her lap and tucks her feet underneath her. She’s exactly as I remember her; casual and stunning. Then, when I sit opposite of her, I take in how much she’s changed since the last time I’ve seen her. She looks older, but better. She’s gained a little weight, but in a healthy way.