Page 13 of Forbidden Desires

"I don't think we did anything wrong, baby." I drop down into the armchair opposite him, running a hand through my hair as my helplessness at not being able to make this better for him wraps tighter around me. "I just think she wasn't ready for this. For us," I say, my hurt and frustration bleeding into the words. "We might need to give her a little time, and then go back in, and prove to her we're serious. We can't push too hard now."

Pete flinches, his hands raking through his hair as his shoulders sag further. "But what if our silence makes her think this was just a one-night stand for us?" His voice is quiet, but laced with a simmering panic, one I need to put a stop to.

"Stop, baby." I grab for his hand, squeezing it, and tugging on it to get him to... I don't know, come to me? Look at me?Anything to get him out of the spiral of self-doubt he's settling into.

"Stop what, Dex?" Pete surges to his feet, pulling me with him, so we're face to face. He towers over me, his jaw clenched, his eyes fierce and filled with pain. "Stop feeling like I failed her again? Stop thinking about running out of here and hunting her down so she can know exactly how much I care about her?"

I meet his gaze, the heat in his eyes a reflection of my own turmoil.

There was a time where I'd thought his love for me would play second fiddle to his clear devotion to Suzie, but he's proven to me, time and time again that I mean the world to him too. My turmoil isn't born of jealousy or any ill will toward Suzie. I've fallen for her through his stories about her. The mess of my emotions is built from a mix of anxiety for his mental well-being, and worry over Suzie and what is going on in her mind.

I let out a sharp breath, trying to get control of everything as I pull him down onto the couch he'd been on. "So we plan. We let her know we're thinking of her, and we wait."

Pete's expression finally softens, the tension easing as he settles in, his hand landing on my thigh. "We show her she means something to us, that we're not going anywhere. She needs to feel safe enough to come back to us."

The quiet hope in his voice is almost my undoing. I turn my head and rest it on his shoulder, hoping to share some of my strength with him.

"She will, baby," I murmur, the words thick with emotion. "How can she not? You were made for her."

Pete's hand tightens on my thigh, a silent rebuke. "Shewas made forus."

When I turn to look at him again, the grief at her sudden loss and hope of her return mingling in his expression mirrors my own.

Without thinking, I reach for him, my hand gripping the back of his neck as I pull him down.

The kiss is soft, hesitant, and full of everything we can't put into words. It's not about passion—it's about anchoring ourselves to something solid, something real, in the face of all this uncertainty.

Pete responds, his lips pressing against mine as his hands find my arms, holding on as if I'm the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

When we pull back, his forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet. “Thanks," he murmurs, his voice rough but now filled with the strength and steely resolve I'm used to from him.

I nod, my fingers brushing over the back of his neck as I find my voice again. "We'll wait for her, Pete. You've already waited, so this is nothing new. And when she's ready, we'll be here. Together."

The weight of the moment lingers between us, heavy but no longer suffocating. It's not a solution, but it's something—a fragile hope we can cling to. And for now, it has to be enough.

"But we can try phone her again, right? Let her know this wasn't a once-off thing?"

A smile splits across my face at his hopeful request.

"Yes, baby. Call her." I take a breath and climb onto him, straddling his lap. “Later.” I claim his mouth in a kiss, doing my best to distract him, and myself.

It doesn’t take much before I can feel him hardening underneath me.

With the promise of a little more with him, and the hope of even more with Suzie on the horizon, I lose myself in the feel of the man underneath me.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Suzie

Two days. That's how long it takes for the road to drag me out of one life and deposit me, road-weary and hollow, into another.

When I pull into the parking lot of the apartment building that houses the interns and resident artists for the Museum of Glass, exhaustion wraps around me like a thick fog. My eyes sting from too much driving and not enough sleep. The ache in my chest hasn't loosened its grip, but at least now I have distractions—bags to unload, rooms to fill, a new life to build from scratch.

The apartment is small but cozy, with large windows that overlook the museum courtyard. The air inside smells like freshly painted walls and new beginnings. I stand at the threshold, bags hanging off my shoulders, and take a shaky breath.

This is it. My fresh start.

I drag my bags inside, the wheels of the suitcase bumping over the floor, and drop my things by the door. For a long moment, I just stand there, trying to let it sink in. The silence is heavy. Too heavy. My thoughts flicker to Pete and Dexter,uninvited but insistent. It shouldn't. But I probablyshouldn'thave gone home with them in the first place.I’ve received numerous unanswered texts and calls from what I can only assume is Dexter’s number. And even though I know I should have blocked him too, something inside me just couldn’t do it.

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