Chapter 4: Projecting Desires

I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom one last time before leaving for Mike’s. The left earlobe looked unfinished, a small, accusing blank. I opened the small jewelry box on my dresser and stared at the remaining options. Most of them felt wrong, too formal, too casual, too gaudy, and obviously not the pair I had worn almost every day for the past year. My fingers closed around a pair of simple blue stone studs I had bought on a whim two years earlier and rarely worn. The stones were small, a clear, cool sapphire blue that caught the light without shouting. I told myself Mike would never notice. He was not the kind of man who tracked jewelry. He would see that I was wearing earrings and that would be enough. I fastened them carefully, the metal cool against skin that still remembered the heat of the night before, and forced myself not to look at the empty place where the diamond should have sat.

The drive to Mike’s was short. The girls were already waiting in the front window of the living room when I pulled up, Sophie bouncing on the balls of her feet, Lily holding a small backpack with the quiet seriousness she always carried. Mike kissed me at the door the same way he always did when the girls were watching, soft, unhurried, the corner of my mouth. His hand settled at the small of my back, and the bruise between my shoulder blades answered with a low, private throb. I smiled, accepted Sophie’s fierce hug, and let Lily lean in for a quieter one. The blue stones felt heavier than they should have.

Then both girls started talking at the same time in a rush of “Beth!” and “Daddy said we can feed the giraffes!” and “Can I sit next to you in the truck?” I hugged them both, felt the clean, ordinary weight of their excitement, and for a second the marks under my clothes felt almost manageable.

Mike let the girls chatter for another minute, then raised his voice just enough to cut through.

“Okay, you two, tablet, living room. Fifteen minutes of videos while I talk to Beth. No arguing.”

They groaned in unison but obeyed, already scrambling for the couch and the shared tablet. Mike’s hand settled at the small of my back and guided me gently toward the kitchen. The touch was light, almost casual, but it pressed directly against the long bruise between my shoulder blades and sent a sharp, private pulse through me. I turned once we were past the doorway, mouth already opening to ask what was going on, and never got the chance.

His lips smashed into mine.

No soft lead-in, no careful question. Just the sudden, hungry pressure of his mouth and the way his body crowded mine against the edge of the counter. For half a second I froze- shock, guilt, the reflex to protect the marks- then the heat of him broke through, and I kissed him back. Hard. My hands came up to his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. His tongue slid against mine, and the familiar taste of him- coffee, toothpaste, the faint mint of the gum he always carried- filled my mouth. One of his hands slid up my side, over the curve of my waist, and settled possessively on my breast. The pressure landed square on the dark bruise Tyler had left near my left nipple. Instead of flinching, I moaned into Mike’s mouth, the sound low and involuntary. The slight pain bloomed into something hotter, dirtier. Only a few hours earlier, another man’s mouth had been there, twisting, claiming, praising. The knowledge that Mike’s hand was now resting on the same place made my knees weaken.

His other hand dropped to my ass and squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh through my jeans. Another bruise answered, the deep one on my right hip where Tyler’s fingers had held me while he fucked me against the wall. The dual sensation of Mike’s touch and the memory of Tyler’s sent a fresh rush of wetness between my legs. I kissed him deeper, almost desperately, trying to drown the comparison in the present.

When we finally broke for air, I was breathing hard. A smile tugged at my mouth even as the guilt sat thick under it.

“What has got into you?” I asked, voice a little rough. The twinkle in my eye was real; the heat between us always had been. Without thinking, I added, “Don’t we have to get on the road right away to get there on time for our tour?”

Mike’s hands stayed on my ass, holding me against him so I could feel the hard line of his cock already pressing against my stomach.

“Nothing,” he said, mouth brushing the corner of mine. “Can’t I just want to kiss my girl when I haven’t seen her in forever?”

“Forever, huh? It’s been two days, you horny little devil.”

He squeezed again, harder this time, and the bruise under his fingers flared bright enough to make my breath catch. The pain was sharp and clean, and it only made me wetter. I hated how easily my body translated it.

“Traffic doesn’t look bad on the app,” he murmured against my neck, “and the girls should be all right for fifteen minutes. Why don’t you come help me with a problem I have in the bedroom that needs urgent inspection and attention?”

I let both hands settle on his chest, palms sliding slowly over the solid muscle, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

“An urgent problem? Sounds serious. What type of problem could you ever need Nurse Beth to help with this early in the day?”

Mike leaned in and kissed the nape of my neck, open-mouthed and slow. One hand slipped around to the front of my jeans and brushed directly over the sensitive bruise Tyler had left high on my inner thigh, right at the edge of where my pussy began. I flinched hard before I could stop myself. The word “inspection” from his earlier joke and the sudden contact with that particular mark sent a cold spike of panic through me. If he got me naked, if he saw the full map of what Tyler had done, everything would collapse.

I recovered as fast as I could, forcing my voice into the same playful, seductive register we had always used.

“I’m sorry, baby. My period came a few days early. But maybe there’s something else I can give you.”

I gave him the mischievous smile that usually worked and prayed it looked genuine.

Mike sighed, the sound half-frustrated and half-amused. “Well, I suppose I can submit to a different type of inspection.”

I took both of his hands and began walking backward, grinning at him, leading him out of the kitchen toward the hallway. The girls’ voices floated from the living room—some cartoon, laughter, the ordinary soundtrack of a Saturday morning. I raised my voice just enough to carry.