I Love My Healed Heart: 4 Book Box Set/Omnibus (Erotic Romance) Read online

  As I walk really quickly across the street, hidden within the fast-moving crowd, I wonder what he is doing in this part of town. Is he stalking me? The last time I ran into him – only last week – it was pure coincidence. I wasn’t anywhere near where I normally am, so that surely had to be just God playing his little game, laughing as he moves the pieces around his game-board called Manhattan. But today? There is no reason David should be coming anywhere near Fashion Week. He knows I have to be here, though.

  Worries spinning ‘round about my ex, I walk up and see The Bitch standing at the top of the stairs in front of the entrance to the tent. Another face I don’t want to see, even though I get paid to. She’s on her phone and she’s laughing, which means only one thing - she’s talking to the owner of the magazine. We all have a boss whose ass we have to kiss.

  As soon as The Bitch sees me, she jerks her head for me to join her, her long angry spike of a ponytail bouncing once, despite hairspray lockdown. It’s kind of like Madonna’s during her Blond Ambition tour only The Bitch has made hers her signature style, for a decade now. Picasso would have loved this thing. He would have painted sharp renditions of it stabbing me in the heart.

  I’m not being overly dramatic. I promise.

  I arrive at the space she’s designated for me to stand in and I wait. I wait and I wait annnnnnd I wait. Her phone conversation goes on for over twenty minutes. The entire time, she is not looking at me. I feel like I’m an accessory to her power suit. It’s a beautiful feeling.

  I can deal with this, I tell myself. I’ll just make the time go by with people watching. I notice that everyone – except for the paparazzi – has a phone in their hand. They’re either on it talking to someone, or looking at it and ignoring everyone. Mostly the latter. There are a lot of sunglasses, high heels, and fabulous hair. For the men there are a lot of sunglasses, form fitting suits with skinny slacks, and Blue-Steel facial expressions. When Tadashi shows up, the paparazzi goes nuts. When Donna Karen walks up, they practically pee themselves. When Gretchen Jones arrives, they start signing over their first-born. The whole thing has me smiling. All I can think about when Gretchen arrives is that girl who was waiting in line for the bathroom ahead of me, when James was waiting for me, in it. And that gets me thinking of James. Mmmm… My smile grows wider.

  “Oh no. I’ll be bringing a date,” The Bitch says proudly. My head jerks to her, my attention firmly arrested. She freaks me out completely by winking at me through her Dolce and Gabbana shades. I force a smile. She’s got a date, huh? So she’s over James. That’s good! Now I don’t have to worry about her finding out about us, and cutting off my head.

  “You’ve met him,” she says to her boss. “He works in H&R. James, yes. No, he’s not gay.”

  My heart stops. It’s not beating anymore! It’s frozen. I’m dying. There’s a hollow place in my chest and… oh, there it goes beating again. Now it’s hammering so loudly in my ears that I am sure the entire red carpet can hear it. I feel dizzy. Then I feel angry. Dizzy and angry. I’m going to throw up. The shiny black Marc Jacobs boots I’m wearing all of a sudden start swaying as my knees threaten to buckle. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here now. I look at her. I can see her lips moving, but I can’t hear anything. All I can see is a smile that I want desperately to slap off her face.

  Wait. Why am I mad at her? It’s him I should be mad at! The asshole who bent me over a chair yesterday and who didn’t tell me he started seeing my boss again. Where is he? I’m sure he’s here. I look at her. She looks like she’s laughing at me. Oh my God, she knows. Does she know? Where is that bastard? I am going to…

  I don’t say goodbye. I don’t wave. I just leave and walk quickly inside, hunting for retribution. I have no idea if I’m always going to be like this, but right now, I’m like a bat out of hell when it comes to betrayal. Being cheated on will do that to you. I’m seeing red. Does James think that just because he’s drop-dead handsome and has a magic cock, that he can use me and not tell me that he and MY BOSS got back together?

  No. No way!

  Searching with laser focus inside the tent, I don’t see him. I am walking really freaking fast; scanning every male face for the one I’m going to yell at. I pass various booths hocking expensive designer wares, the information booth with the very-bored-models leaning on their elbows. Not seeing him anywhere, I make a beeline for the stages. As I turn a corner, I show my badge to an apathetic elephant-sized security guard and go into The Theater stage where they’re setting up for the 10 a.m. show.

  I see him. Jackpot. Look out James…hell is coming! He’s talking to one of the minions, a pretty brunette who can’t be older than twelve. Perfect. Of course he’s moving onto his next conquest. As I advance, he assesses correctly from the pissed off expression on my face that it’s time to talk.

  I hear her say, “Can you please set up an interview for me?”

  I halt behind her and tap my feet on the fake flooring and wait, staring at the back of her head. She turns and looks at me, takes her pacifier out of her mouth, shuffles her feet and asks for a bottle. Okay, she only does one of those. I’ll let you pick which.

  “What are you looking at?” I ask her.

  “Nothing. No one. Uh…” she stammers.

  “Are all the goody bags out?” I spit out. I shift my impatient judgment from her to him, to her again. Goody bags aren’t his job, so he just watches me, looking very amused. Fuck him.

  She gulps and answers slowly, “No. Tyler and I were just putting them out when I saw James and I… um… wanted to ask him to put a good word for me for a permanent position.”

  “Oh. I bet you’d like a permanent position, wouldn’t you?” I say.

  She looks at James, confused, then back at me. “Yeah. I… um… always wanted to work at this magazine. It’s my dream.”

  She and I stare at each other. I don’t say anything. In my head, though, I acknowledge that I would do the same thing, were I in her shoes. I may be assuming all the wrong things. I may be acting like a crazy person. I may be dreaming and none of this is really happening. I wish.

  But I remember that James does work in Human Resources after all. Maybe his intentions are noble. Yeah, right. I say nothing, he says nothing, until she feels so confused and uncomfortable that she finally excuses herself.

  “Take your teddy bear with you,” I call after her.

  I didn’t really say that, but wouldn’t that have been awesome?

  “What’s up, Jess? You look amazing today,” James smiles, looking annoyingly dashing. He’s wearing a Todd Snyder suit with skinny tie and slacks that look great under Todd’s trademark fitted jacket. Yum. I mean, Yuck! Screw this guy. Wait. No, don’t. My head is spinning. Argh!

  “Can I talk to you in private, please?” I say in my most aloof tone.

  “Really? Yeah, sure. Follow me,” He looks around for his ex to make sure the coast is clear, turns and I follow him backstage, trying not to look at his cute butt. Backstage, we ignore the models getting made up, the tailors fitting, trimming and hemming, and a photographer from our magazine who’s capturing all of it. Walking fast past all of them, we make a beeline for a secluded area, away from the crowd, behind a closed-off curtain.

  Now that we’re alone, James turns and faces me. He slides both hands into his pant’s pockets, inhales and waits patiently for me to talk. Looking at his calm face, I realize I do not want to come off as bat-shit crazy. I work with James. I also have no claims on him, right? Right. But I do have a claim on my own body, and he entered it yesterday without telling me the story dynamic had changed. Why does this keep happening to me? If he had told me they were dating again, I wouldn’t have let him fuck me in some storage tent-closet-thingy. He took away my right to choose.

  Still, since we are co-workers, and he’s banging my boss, I want to play this very cool.

  “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

  Oops.

  “I’m a…what?” He is literal
ly thrown backwards, having stepped away from me when I swore at him. Good. I am woman. Hear me swear.

  “I just heard what you’re doing with you know who. And you know what you did with the other you know who, yesterday. When you… and someone… when you… you know what you did,” I trail off, nodding with innuendo.

  “What are you talking about, Jess? You know you look ridiculous, bobbing your head like that, right?”

  The fact that he is keeping his cool has a calming effect on me, but I’m fighting it. I bite my lip, unsure of what to do or say. Help. Please help, somebody. I’m flailing around in my mind and I hate it when anger takes over me. It’s like I can’t stop myself from acting nuts.

  I look down, feeling like an idiot. “You…I…” I can’t finish.

  He takes his hands out of his pockets, steps forward, reaches out and takes my hands before he looks into my lost, fluttering eyes like a hero.

  Sincerely and quietly he says to me, “What has got you so worked up? I didn’t tell anyone about yesterday. Is that what you think happened? I’m very discreet. You don’t have to worry.”

  I choke out, “Great. You’re so discreet that you don’t tell a girl when you and your ex get back together.”

  He lets go of my hands like I burned him and steps back again. I watch him pace in a circle looking down, silently asking the ground-gods what to do. My fears were founded. He is a guilty person pacing, who’s been called out on his lies. Well, at least I wasn’t wrong. He looks up at me and frowns. “Who told you that?”

  “She did. She told her boss right in front of me, that you’re her date for the bigwig party. I am her assistant, remember?” I blurt out, hurt.

  He shakes his head, the crease between his brows deepening. I want him to apologize. I want to hear him say he’s sorry for hurting me… that I didn’t deserve it! But he has never apologized to me before, so why would he now?

  Wait. Woah. What?

  My brain is playing tricks on me. James has never had a reason to apologize to me. James and I barely know each other. I’m thinking of David! I just transposed him and David in my mind. Okay. This is scary. Step back, Jess. Something you don’t understand is going on. Do I want David to apologize? Is that what I want? A little voice in my head screams YES.

  And then Bam…I am crying. Tears fall down my cheeks and there’s nothing I can do about it. Someplace I wasn’t paying attention to, deep inside of my heart, has unleashed itself and is pouring down my face. I gasp for breath, and try to make it stop, the pain in my lungs excruciating as they close in on me.. I cover my face and turn away. What is happening? Please stop. Please stop crying, I beg myself.

  He comes to me and pulls my hands down, turning me around and taking my face in his hands. Gently and quietly he says, “Jess! Hey hey hey. I’m sorry. There’s been a big misunderstanding.” He bends down and kisses my wet cheeks. It feels so great, these tender kisses. I don’t object because that place inside of me? It needs to be heard. My breath is locked in my throat, trapped, escaping in little choked sobs. My eyes are big and pleading but I can’t pull myself together!

  I choke out, “I… don’t… know… why… I’m… crying!”

  He holds me tight in a hug. “It’s not true, Jess. I’m not her date for that party! She thinks I’m going, because she thinks she can convince me. But I already told her no. I should have said that to you right away when you started talking… but I was so shocked by what you said! I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

  “It’s not that!” I sob.

  “It’s not?” he asks, dumbfounded.

  “No. This whole thing…triggered something deeper and (sob) I’m sorry! I didn’t know. This is something else (choke). I’m trying… not… to cry! I can’t stop!”

  He pulls me against him, holds me close. His embrace is so reassuring that I melt in it and bury my face against his chest, taking deep breaths. He joins me in breathing deeply, to help me. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. In. Out.

  Meekly, after a moment of this, I whisper against his tear-drenched suit jacket, “James, you can date her if you want to. You can date anyone. I don’t have any claims. Just tell me first, okay? I can’t take being a detective. I can’t.”

  James laughs, and hugs me tighter. I look up and he moves his head back so he can meet my eyes above mascara-streaked cheeks. We stare at each other until I reach up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, seeking solace. I don’t know if he’s going to turn me away, but he doesn’t. He returns my kiss and as our mouths are locked together, he lowers me to the ground, advancing on me slowly, from above. I feverishly pull at his buckle and his zipper, the urgency of my emotions driving me forward. He tenderly pulls up my dress and finds I’m not wearing panties today. I didn’t wear them for him. We lock eyes, his a question and mine an unspoken answer of yes… I did that for you.

  He smiles and whispers, “Jess, I want you so badly, I can’t stand it, even with you calling me an asshole and bursting into tears like this. Do you know how much you turn me on?”

  I shake my head, my eyes smoky and impatient as tears continue to fall down my cheeks. I whisper back, desperately, “I don’t turn anyone on.”

  He abruptly grabs my hand “What? Feel this,” and forces it to his cock. I feel it pulsing and standing at attention, telling me I’m wrong. “You do this to me. I don’t know who made you feel like you’re not attractive but feel this. I’m this hard because of you. I’m not always like that! Just thinking of you makes me a steel poll. I’m not kidding!”

  “It’s just because we’re a secret,” I blurt and then cover with, “I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.” I pull my hand away from him and bring both up to my face to cover it, embarrassed at my own honesty. I’m the funny jokey girl. I don’t say things like this to a guy!

  “Stop it. Look at me,” he orders me, quietly.

  Reluctantly, I pull my hands away and blink. He’s so close to me, and I can see that he cares. It’s obvious. Why he does, I don’t know. It feels like a friend thing, but maybe it’s more. Lying on me, he reaches down into his pocket and I hear a plastic wrapping that I know must be a condom. Good. Let’s do this. I want to feel better. I need the pressure of him pressing away these feelings. His scent. His kiss. These things will make everything disappear.

  He does his magic trick where he puts it on faster than I can see. Then, with his eyes locked on mine dominantly, telling me without words that he is going to show me I’m desirable in a way that I can’t deny it. When he slides into me, I realize how wet I am. I had no idea I was the least bit available to this moment. The rawness of this volcano of emotion has aroused a need to be touched… to know that I’m okay.

  He almost slides out of me, I’m so wet, and as he does this, I choke. “Please don’t go! I need this!”

  He shakes his head. “I’m here.” He bends and gently kisses me on the forehead. Pulling back to look at me, he buries his erection deeply into me, his eyes locked with mine. I reach up to kiss him; to make him stop watching, to stop him from seeing who I really am, but he won’t let me hide. He rocks in and out of me with a slow beautiful pulsing rhythm, looking into my eyes. I can’t fight him – I don’t have the strength, so I give in and surrender.

  Collapsing on the floor I give in to his strokes as he fills me up, pushing in deeply each and every time. With the building of my climax, I stretch out my arms, only my hips moving with his, staring back at him. I close my eyes and feel the rush of ecstasy tearing through me, goose bumps bursting out from being penetrated by a man who held space for my sorrow. When he leans down and kisses me, teasing me with his tongue, I moan into his mouth and let it all go, grab onto his back, and release All. Of. It.

  He kisses my cheeks and whispers, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it all go. That’s right. Yes. Just like that.” Over and over and over, heated throbs rip through my pussy. My breaths come in short bursts as his shaft strokes in and out of me, until I can’t take it anymore. I collap
se on the ground, dizzy and drained. We smile at each other and I take a deep breath, nod to him that I do in fact, feel better. He chuckles at my face, which is probably silly, relieved and happy, lighter than I have been since David told me late that horrible Tuesday night, “Yes, I slept with her. It’s been going on for two months.”

  The huge weight I didn’t know I was carrying, is gone.

  James tells me he’s going to go grab some tissues and water to clean off my face, and just as I nod, we both hear a female gasp loudly. He jumps off me. I pull my dress down, fast, looking to the sound. Standing there in the curtain-doorway is the twelve-year old, with her mouth wide open. Well, of course it’s wide open! She just saw James’ bare ass and me lying beneath him on the ground, spread eagle, at Fashion Week! Oh no! Oh no! Oh nooooo!

  “Brittany!” He flies to her, speedily zipping his pants and tucking in his shirt.

  I stand up and brush myself off, do my best to act cool. I pull at my hair with my hands; adjust the curly red waves, thinking a million things at once. I have no idea what he does with the condom. I bet it’s still on him. Jeez. I can’t believe I’m even thinking of the damn condom, but this is how my mind works. The Bitch is going to hear about this. She is going to kill me. She won’t fire me, because it’ll be so much more fun to make my life a living hell. Should I quit? I could quit. Throw four years down the drain. No problem. I stare at James and Brittany, trying to hear what they’re saying, but I don’t move. From where I stand I hear things like “no problem” “Oh” “I can put in a good word for you,” etc…