Important: I do not write sex scenes, but this chapter does get a little heated. Just kissing, but other desires are implied. Skip it if you want, but I do recommend skimming the last 6 or so paragraphs so that you understand what happened.
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Minutes pass and I finally pull myself together. Reluctantly, I push myself off of Seth's chest, breaking his hold on me slightly. His hands slide away from my back and find themselves rested at the curve of my waist. His gaze searches mine for several heartbeats. There's a seriousness in the depths of his eyes, a fierceness that could almost be confused with anger.
"Is it really that bad?" he suddenly asks, and I'm not entirely sure what he means by that.
I suddenly want to scream. Is he really so ignorant that he can't comprehend my struggle? Can he honestly not see the damage he's done by abandoning me? I can't help but point a glare in his direction. The action brings a look of puzzlement to his face. He bends slightly, trying to get a better view of my face, but it's obvious—I'm furious.
How dare he take pity on me now! How dare he pretend to care when he's so casually dragging me behind him as he prepares to cut the rope that binds us. I think back to his tattoo and the meaning behind it. He clearly wasn't in his right mind at the time. To make a promise to himself that he'd stick with me through thick and thin, and here he is bolting at the first sign of trouble.
His eyes rove over my face, shocked to find such hostility in my face.
"Are you mad at me?" he asks, pulling my angry gaze to his mouth, where I watch the shock-filled words fall from his lips.
"Of course I'm mad at you!" I almost shout, but I manage to stitch a web of control into the words just before I can belt them out.
He's truly baffled. He just stares, his arms dropping away from me slowly, like a leaf floating to the ground. He instantly looks lost—a puppy without a home. Did I do that? Did my words cause that tortured look in his eyes?
"It just hurts," I tell him, my voice barely a whisper as I glance down between us. We've added a few inches between us now and the molecules floating in the gap that separates us are like little fireballs, ready to explode with even the slightest of movements.
"What does, Merc?" His voice is careful, every word measured in fear that I'll claw into him again if he agitates me further.
I suddenly don't care anymore. I don't care if I look like a fool. I don't care if what I do next ruins everything. Because, the way I see it, we're already ruined. We can't possibly get any lower than we are now. So, I do it. I say what I've been dying to confess for months now, and I watch as Seth's face falls.
"It hurts to want you," I profess. "It hurts to see you every day and know what I know. I can't do it anymore. I can't watch you walk away when I want you so freaking bad."
He doesn't move, but I swear I hear the slow-motion banging of his heart as it collides with his ribs. Everything seems to be moving at a turtle's pace—the dip of his brows, the flattening of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes.
I'm not sure if I've surprised him by this revelation, or if I've just flushed all his hard work down the toilet. If he was trying to push me away, then my announcement just now was like a bullet through the very heart of those plans. He should be furious with me, and yet, he hardly moves. I'm not even sure if he's still breathing. He suddenly steps back, his face dropping into a look of disbelief. He's gazing at everything except for me, running his hands through his dark hair as he fights to take in this new information.
"Mercy." It's almost a gasp, but he sounds awed as he lets my name pass through his lips with an almost intimate whisper.
Suddenly his focus lands on me and I can't deny the pained confusion on his face. His gaze shifts from one of my eyes and then to the other as he fights to understand the words I've just uttered. Maybe if he can get a reading, he'll understand my reasons for blurting out such foolishness.
But I refuse to let the possible interpretations of his expression get to me. Right now, I'm bold. I'm bruised and broken, and I've got nothing to lose. Right now, at this moment, I'm not backing down.
I stare back, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. I don't know what he's thinking right now, but I feel as though he's seeing everything for the first time. His eyes are narrowed, pensive as he deciphers the meaning behind my emotional display.
And then I'm pushing myself onto my toes—my height no longer failing me as I close the space between us and graze his lips with my own.
His head jolts back, surprised. A passionate rage fills his eyes as his jaw clenches together with rhythmic control. He scrutinizes me for several heartbreaking seconds and then suddenly he's tugging me forward, his mouth claiming mine with an urgency that has my toes curling and my back arching with a craving for more.
His kiss is like a hurricane of cold refreshing winds driving away the turmoil in my soul—like that moment when a cartoon character is transformed and they vanish into a cloud of sparkles and pixie dust. That's what's happening inside my chest as Seth expertly grazes my lips. I part my mouth just enough to allow his bottom lip entrance. He's so warm. His lips are smooth with moisture that I've put there, and I'm suddenly paralyzed with passion. It seems the only parts of my body that seem to be working properly are my hands in his hair and my mouth against his.
We don't break our connection even when Seth lifts me onto the counter, and a tornado begins to gather momentum in my stomach. This suddenly isn't enough. The urgency behind Seth's actions begins to slow, but he never abandons me. He just prods and skims until I can't deny him entrance any longer. My mouth parts, the kiss deepening as we explore and taste each other for the first time in ages.
It's like our first real kiss, only better. Because this time, we're expecting it to feel like it always has, but it doesn't. We'd done this before, and yet it feels like the first time. This time, we're nervous and awkward, trying to figure each other out as we work to prove something to each other. Is this love I feel radiating from him? It seems that Seth feels the same as I do because his fingers are trembling against the side of my neck. When his hands slide over my skin, the movement is almost timid, as if asking for permission.
The tenderness in his strokes is astonishing. I feel like a porcelain doll—treasured, valuable, adored. His breathing is heavy, just like my own desperate pants for oxygen. But we never once break our connection. Even when he lifts me back into his arms and begins maneuvering his way out of the kitchen.
I know where he's headed but I will do nothing to stop him. I don't even realize we've made it to the bedroom until he's placing me gently onto the bed. Our lips withdraw when Seth releases me, and I gaze up at him slightly disoriented.
"I'm not strong enough," he suddenly says, his voice heavy with desire.
"What?" I ask, sitting up on my elbows and squinting my eyes at him in confusion.
I'm suddenly worried that it's happening again—he's rejecting me. But then he lowers himself to the bed, his movements slow and precise. He's sitting at the edge of the mattress, but he turns, twisting his body as he reaches across my legs and places one hand on the blankets near my hip.
"If this isn't what you want, you need to leave," he tells me, his jaw twitching as he allows his vulnerable side to break through, "because I won't."
I don't move.
He breathes in deeply. Once. Twice. And then he's leaning down again, starting the kiss where we left off. It's so much more than I'd ever hoped for. This moment is like magic—something that only lives in fairytales—but it's here. The sensation of disbelief is dancing underneath my chest. I can feel its wild tempo beating a sense of yearning into my bloodstream. I've got flames shooting through my veins.
And then the sound of something vibrating next to my head breaks the tension, if only for a moment. Seth freezes, not removing his lips from mine, but just pausing for a moment to listen. When the sound finally stops, his focus returns to ravishing my mouth with his own.
Suddenly the vulnerable Seth is giving way to the domineering man I remember. Within seconds, he's whipped us around so that I'm hovering over his reclined form. He pulls the pillow from behind his head and launches it across the room, and then he's pulling me down flush against his chest. We resume our kisses, each moment birthing a deeper hunger within me, but Seth only continues to caress, tease, and stroke my arms, my face, my hair. He's taking his sweet time in furthering this moment. Clearly, he's enjoying every moment, not wishing to hurry into more intimate behavior.
I'm strangely okay with this. I'm happy to just enjoy where we are, because it's everything I've been wanting for so long, and everything I haven't had. I need this. I just need to be close to him. To feel desired by him. To feel loved.
And then that same vibrating noise is breaking into the passion-filled air. I lift my eyes for a moment, spotting Seth's phone on the side table. That's all I need to see and it's as if someone has dumped dull, lukewarm water all over the fire that we'd ignited between us.
I try to keep going. I try to pretend like I haven't seen the message window pop up on the screen. I try to ignore the twist in my gut when I'd read those four little words underneath Tracy's name. They were such simple words, but it was their simplicity that implied everything I needed to know about Seth
Does your wife know?
That's all it said. That's all it needs to say. I can't pretend anymore. I can't let Seth indulge in this moment knowing that I'm just a good temporary replacement. Sure, he has needs. We all do. But I'm not okay with this. Not when this moment means so much more to me than it does for him. I just can't believe he was so willing to let things go all the way when I'd just confessed my need for him. How did I never realize that I'd married such a pig?
"I can't do this," I suddenly gasp, pulling away from him.
If I didn't know any better, I would swear that our heat had glued us together, because tearing myself away from the warmth of his body is nearly impossible. And then Tracy's message echoes through my mind again and that's all the motivation I need.
Before Seth can even respond, I'm sliding over his frame, off the edge of the bed, and making a beeline for the bathroom. I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend we're okay. I hate Seth for making me want him so badly, only to rip me into shreds the moment I got a taste.
He had said he didn't want to use me... well, he just did.
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I find it interesting that with the progression of this story, I've seen you all go from pitying Mercy and hating Seth, to pitying Seth and wanting to slap Mercy. Haha! So, tell me what your thoughts on both of them now. Are you rooting for them or have you reached your limit and you're just ready for them to be done?