SEVER by Jane, Melissa (great books to read .txt) 📕

tongues meeting again after what feels like a lifetime. There’s nothing gentle about him but he’s still the perfect kisser I remember him being. Cupping my ass, he lifts me until my legs wrap around his waist. I feel his cock straining against his pants, pressing delightfully against me. Lowering me to the bed, him on top propped up with his elbow, my husband stares deep into my soul.

“Everything I’ve done is for us. No matter how it turned out, no matter how fucked-up the objective got, it was all for us.”

I feel my heart once again forming sharp icicles. His words sound like lies to my already-jaded ears. None of this—whatever he’s done that he can’t reveal—could possibly be for us. I allowed him to get this far, drawing me into his web of lies, but bitterness and the fear of further manipulation takes over and I attempt to push him away. Sensing the change in my demeanor, he fights me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head.

“Let me up, Shawn.”

“Don’t do this, babe. You—”

“Don’t call me that!”

He looks like I’ve slapped him. “Blythe, this is the best we’ve been in a year. Can’t you just roll with it and see where it takes us?”

So you get a free fuck?

“I know exactly where this is going to take me, and it’s nowhere good. If you can’t explain to me what the hell is happening, then you can never expect me to trust you.”

I struggle against his grip, which he tightens in response. I buck under him, wanting to throw him off, yet all I achieve is feeling his still-hard cock pressing into me.

“One day, babe. One day, I’ll be able to tell you everything. But for now, I can’t. And you just need to trust me on that.”

“Your actions have given me every reason not to trust you, and I simply can’t go on pretending that what’s happening is okay. Because it’s not.”

Shawn lowers his lips to mine and unlike earlier, he kisses me tenderly. I don’t fight against it, I let him do it because, frankly, deep down I want to roll with it. But I’m not a naïve nineteen-fifties housewife who lets her lying husband walk all over her.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he says, half-reading my mind. If he knew the other half, he’d be scrambling to safety.

“You’ve broken my heart, Shawn,” I admit through a moment of weakness.

Even in the dark, I see the pain in his eyes. The same pain I’ve been carrying around for so long. “Don’t. Don’t do this, babe. We’re stronger than—”

“Listen!” I choke, closing my eyes, feeling like I’m being strangled. “You have no idea how much I love you. You’ve taken my heart and shattered it into tiny pieces. I can never trust you again, and without trust, you and I are nothing.”

My husband wipes my tears with his thumbs, dropping his forehead to mine. I few heartbeats pass and I feel his own tears falling down my cheek, a moment of weakness I’ve never seen from him. He shifts his weight off me and releases his hold. I move to the edge of the bed and straighten my clothes, trying desperately to swallow the hard lump lodged in my throat. Heaving a heavy sigh, I blink the tears away and square my shoulders. Reaching the bedroom door, I turn back when Shawn’s voice stops me.

“Blythe, you will always be the only woman for me. When the time comes for you to know everything, I hope you can still see me as the man you once loved.”

Once? You stupid fool. I still love you.

11

“M rs. Cooper, Mr. Burton is ready to see you.”

I stand, giving a small smile to the receptionist, and walk down the corridor to what could be the biggest showdown of my life. With my heels clicking on the marble floor, I straighten my shoulders and clear my throat, reminding myself not to leave before I’m given some plausible answers.

The door opens before I reach it. A gentleman fifty-plus years of age greets me, with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, a gold canine tooth catching the light. His features aren’t attractive, but his face is tight and plump, revealing his obsession with looking young. It seems incongruous to the rest of him. First impression is that he’s a glorified, and slightly wealthier, used car salesman really to lie through his teeth ensuring he comes out unscathed. This isn’t a great start.

“Mrs. Cooper, please come in,” he says flatly, gesturing for me to pass. I get the feeling I’m interrupting something totally unimportant, but he’d still rather be doing that than seeing me. Shrugging it off, I take a seat opposite him.

It’s not you, it’s him.

His dark, beady eyes dart around the room, reluctant to settle on mine, a tell-tale sign he’s uncomfortable in my presence. His ringed fingers drum on the mahogany desk as he leans back in his leather chair. “So, what brings you here today?”

Someone in your bank is a fucking criminal.

“Well…” I start meeting his indifferent gaze. “Mr. Burton, I’ve banked with East State since my mother set up a super saver for me when I was just a little girl. As an adult, my husband I share joint accounts and our hefty mortgage is here also. A mortgage that was only one-year shy of completion. A mortgage I contributed substantially to. A mortgage that has my name on it.”

“And we thank you for that, but I’m uncertain with where this is going.”

“I don’t need your thanks, Mr. Burton. What I want is an explanation as to why my house has been re-mortgaged without my consent? And I want an explanation as to how this could ever have been allowed to happen?”

Mr. Burton