Chapter 5

Jonathan

Three weeks with Miss Alexis Rutherford and I'm not sure what's going on anymore. I thought it might just be a shameless fling. But after that first night, Alexis hasn't let me get further than heavy kissing and a few mild over-the-clothes gropes. And the weird thing is, I don't really mind. I don't want to rush into this.

But I'm not sure why that is. I keep telling myself, "You can't fall in love with your rebound." Right? My wife' barely been dead seven months. It's just a rebound ... right?

Part of me wishes I could talk to Tim, or even Samantha. They'd have great advice for this situation. But I can't go back to that life. It's not that going back would be painful. It's ... fuck! It really is that I feel like I've been lying to Alexis. I've been extremely careful not to lie to her, but by omission, I've lied. And I'm just afraid of the guilt. And that guilt is holding me back from pushing her more physically too. So we're stuck at this physical/emotional barrier. And it's all my fault.

And once I figured that out a few days ago, I know she noticed. I'm a bit withdrawn, and she can tell something's up. The guilt is good for one thing—I've thrown myself into fixing her house and helping her and Cat set up this baseball card auction.

She's excited because it means she can really sink some money into the house. No more DIY project, but hiring a real electrician. She even hints at having me hire a few guys to work for me. I knows she's talking about investing in me starting my own contracting business. She even looked into me getting a contractor's license, and in Texas, it's as simple as filling out a form and sending in a fee.

Of course, there's just one problem with that—my name isn't John James, it's Matthew Jonathan James. And most days it feels like the whole world is looking for me. Especially since a few weeks ago, they finally found my plane in the gulf. The fucking two-by-four I wedged under the yoke was still stuck there! Of all the fucking luck.

So they knew I wasn't dead, just 'disappeared.' Most media pundits had jumped on the idea that I was somewhere in South America, sipping margaritas with a bevy of mamacitas on the beach. I hoped my own family knew me well enough to know that was a stupid idea. I was just dreading the day when a stretch limo with Tim or Samantha in it pulled up in front of Alexis' house.

I knew it was coming. My time hiding as John James was limited. The only thing that kept me from bolting and moving on to yet another place, mockery of my name—maybe a change in hair color?—was Alexis. I sighed I fit another board into place, nailing the board down. Another stair finished. Soon, I'd have to figure out how to build a banister the way Alexis wanted. I was already learning how to use the lathe, and I thought I might be able to do it myself.

I loved her. I knew that. I knew I wasn't supposed to. You're not supposed to fall in love with your rebound—especially not six months after burying your soul mate. That's what Michelle and I felt. We said it at our wedding, we said it when we found out she was pregnant. We said it all the important days of our life together.

I meant it. I know in my heart that she did too.

"FUCK!" I sucked on my throbbing thumb. That's like the fifth nail I've missed today. Gotta concentrate, but ... I just can't.

I dropped the hammer and went to the mini-fridge. I pulled out a Gatorade and went to sit in the rocking chair. It wasn't even 10:00 yet, but I decided I needed a break anyway.

Sitting down, I rocked and drank.

"I need to just decide, one way or the other," I muttered.

I'm either staying, or going. And if I stay ... I have to tell her the truth.

Alexis

Talking with Cat last night, we decided ... it's time, whether John is ready or not. I've got on the same clothes I was wearing on our first date, and I'm not planning on wearing them long. He's going to have to completely reject me, or we're going to get over this hump and fuck each other to death.

I haven't been able to concentrate for three weeks. My work at the shop is sloppy, I can't paint, I can't draw. I can barely hold a conversation with Cat or Mack. Cat was the one to finally help me decide last night.

"Just drive out there and throw yourself at him, Lexi. That man needs to lay some pipe, and how!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the memory of her words. But here I was, pulling up to my house and there he is in the rocking chair.

As soon as my baby is stopped, I jump out and run up to him. He stood up and came down off the porch as I drove up, and now I'm in his arms and he's kissing me. His hands are holding me up to him, cupping my butt and digging into me deliciously—I should have just gone commando! God he's got me so fucking horny and frustrated!

Finally, he breaks the kiss when I back off a bit, but my hands start tugging his t-shirt off.

"Alexis, I love you."

I nearly orgasm just from those words, the first time either of us have voiced them. I growl and tug his shirt up further. I murmer, "I love you too." I kiss his chest tentatively. I can't reach high enough to take his shirt all the way off—he's so tall!

"Alexis, I need to tell you something," John groans.

"Later," I growl. I take his hand and pull him into the house behind me. I'm headed straight for that mattress. He's since bought box springs and sheets, but he just unzipped my sleeping bag and is using my pillow as well.

"Alexis, wait."

I stop at the foot of the bed, turning to him and looking into his dark eyes, "I'm tired of waiting."

"Fuck it," he mutters and starts pulling my dress up over my head.

From inside the green cotton mess, I giggle, "Exactly what I was thinking."

The moment the dress clears my arms and head, he's tackling me to the bed. His mouth is all over me. My mouth, my jaw, my neck, my collarbone.

Oh, god! His tongue is tracing my collarbone while his fingers are seeking out my bra catch. And then, he's found it, and my bra is loose. One hand flings it, while his other hand is already tracing a line up my breastbone.

My eyes watch John as he lifts himself above me, his eyes taking in my boobs. My self-consciousness gets the better of me and my hands shoot from his chest to my own. His eyes are on mine then, and he says softly, commandingly, "Don't."

After a second of his stare, I release my breasts and he goes back to raking me with his eyes. Then he's on them with his mouth. Fuck! He's got my nipple in his mouth!