Tattooed Hearts (29 page)

“You’re not a cushion.”

She didn’t speak. Instead
she captured his hand and led them bac
k to the family
room. She took the remote and turned off the television, then threw some wood
in the fireplace. Orange flames celebrated with a wild, flickering dance. She
stepped back and kicked off her boots. Her jeans and sweater followed. Forrest
stood
motionless, powerless, watching as she slipped
off her underwear and then stood naked in front of him.

Sparks flared. The
infinite love he carried in his heart leaped into a fiery blaze.

“Tell me what you need,”
she said, voice low.

“You,” he said withou
t a beat.

A smile touched the
corners of her lips. “Good thing.” She tugged on his shirt and pulled it off.
Her fingers ran down the center of his chest and lower abdomen to the waist of
his jeans and snapped them open. Sliding her hand inside the waistban
d of his briefs, she wrapped her fingers around his raging
erection and squeezed. “I need you too, Doc.”

This evoked a rough sound
from him. “Kiss me,” he almost begged.

“Anywhere?” she asked and
dropped to her knees. Her lips were so close to his hardness
, he felt the warmth of her breath caressing him.

He was practically
vibrating in pure ecstasy. She ran her tongue from the root of his length all
the way up in a slow, torturous lick. The act drew out another rough sound from
the back of his throat.

Then
she took him in her mouth.

Her lips tightly encircled his throbbing erection. All the blood
from his body rushed to his cock, thick in her mouth.

His hands automatically
fisted in her hair and held. “Fuck, Claire.”

She started slowly with
the onslaught, te
asing, stroking him with her tongue
before taking him deep in her mouth.

He hissed, teeth
bared
.

His body jerked as a
tremor rolled down his spine. Hands tangled tight in her hair, his hips bucked,
control slipping. Blood pounded in his head. Breath ripped
out of his lungs.

He wanted.

He craved.

He needed to be—

In her.

“Not like this.” His words
came out muffled. His body was tense and ready to explode. “
Damn it
,” he swore and roughly
hauled her up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked,
and licked her swollen lips.

That image didn’t help his
brain one bit. He groaned and kissed her. “Inside,” he said against her lips.
“I want to be inside you when I come.
When we both come.”
He broke away to strip out of the rest
of his clothes, which he did in less than five seconds
.

“But…”

“No buts.” Dropping to his
knees, he
brought her down with him and
gently pushed her back
against the rug before him. He stared down at her in nothing except for the
glowing embers licking her skin.
Beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.

His heart clenc
hed. They grew up together. He’d been her protector, her
friend, but his favorite had always been what they were now.
Lovers.
Owning her heart.

Arms stretched out at her
sides, she gave him a smile, her brown eyes melting away all of his defenses.
“You sai
d something about fucking.”

He removed his glasses and
closed his eyes for a second, then brought her into focus. One finger trailed
down her stomach to between her thighs and found her warm and wet. She arched
her back, already making those noises he love
d. When
he slid a finger inside her delicate spot, she gasped and opened her legs wider
for him.

Pulling him to her, she
kissed him, and he let himself sink into the kiss, into her, willingly drowning
in her heat.

“This is beyond fucking,”
he said against
her lips. Cradled by her open thighs,
he lost himself inside her.
“So
much more.”

She moaned his name and
nothing had ever turned him on more than this woman, and how she was with him.
His.
Their chemistry staggered
him. It stole his breath and annihilated
his heart.
She was designed for him
,
and he for her. Cupping her sweet ass,
he thrust into her slow and steady, and for the first time in over a month his
world started to make sense.

Everything felt right. It
wasn’t about regrets, the years lost, or any
of the
other shit going on around him.

It all came down to
Claire.
As it always would.

He wanted their infinity.
He wanted to be with her. Talking, touching, fucking--whatever--a home, family,
love—anything. He wanted it all with her. She had become his sa
nctuary.
His…
everything.

“More,” she said in a
soft, throaty voice. “Please.” Accompanying this sexy little please, she made a
restless circular motion and lifted her hips so that he could sink in deeper.

Shit! That felt good.
He groaned. “Do that
again.”

She writhed against him
and he lost the tenuous grip on his control.

He could run for miles,
spar with Blake for hours and not feel the exertion much. Now in her arms,
buried in her body, his breath was coming in ragged pants. He reared up on his
hands, ba
ck arched to get as deep as he could as he
began to move. When she cried out his name, begging for more, he gave it.
 

“
So good
.”
His mouth found hers,
swallowing her cries as he thrust into her. A little gasp escaped her lips. He
loved it. Running a hand under her knee, he lifted her leg up to wrap around
him so he could get even deeper. She stayed right with him as he claimed her.

 
He moved harder and faster inside her.
Their ragged breathing melded. Their bodies molded, becoming one, her hips
moved with his, urging him on. She felt so fucking good.

“Oh, Forrest,” she cried
and clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders
as she exploded.

Watching her in her throes
sent him spiraling. A rush of hot pleasure raced through his body so fiercely
that his arms trembled. He dropped his head with a rough groan, burying his
face in the curve of her neck as he completely lost himse
lf.

In her.

So good
.
That was his only thought
as he went flying higher than he’d ever been. So good, so damn fucking good…

Chapter Twenty-Four

“To
hide the key to your heart is to risk forgetting where you placed it.”

Timothy Childers

Two days
later after basking in the essence of Claire, Forrest
entered his parents’ house and headed down the hall to his father’s office. Not
that he actually listened to Charles. He was here because no matter what,
Marjorie was his mother.

On top of that, he had
questions.

He needed answers.

Avoidance, the maladaptive
coping mechanism that worked so well for him after Claire left, wouldn’t
provide a solution. Learning that his father had known all along about the
details of his mother’s pregnancy and asked two peo
ple
to make an immeasurable sacrifice plagued his mind.

He pushed the office door
open and flipped the light switch, bringing life to the otherwise noiseless
room. He glanced around. Everything was still untouched. Several stacks of
paperwork, pens in a ti
n on the mahogany desk,
floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with books leaning against one another in the same
direction.

Everything was neat.
In order.
Just like Luc had been.

His gut tightened.
Memories awakened, echoes of his youth jarred his mind. Suddenly sw
imming once more in the tide waters of the past, he took
urgent strides toward his father’s library bursting with books and photo
albums, and scanned the collection. Luc had been one of the last ones standing
who still loved the touch and feel of a picture
instead of storing them in the cloud where they eventually became an
afterthought. He passed that appreciation on to Forrest.

Right now, he desperately
needed memories of the man he loved and admired to stay with him, to soothe
him, because the bad ones t
hreatened to erase all
traces of the things he held dear. Snatching three photo albums in no
particular order, he walked over to the pristine desk with the attitude of a
soldier returning to the battlefield. He sat on the swivel chair, gave his
glasses a l
ittle push up his nose, and opened the
first book.

He flipped through the
first album and stopped at a picture of his mother cradling him, a smile of joy
on her lips. He couldn’t have been more than two, his head covered with a thick
mass of dark, wavy
hair. Luc and Charles were by her
side, their index fingers clutched in Forrest’s chubby hands, faces beaming
with delight. No sign of tension, jealousy, or betrayal.

Sorrow reached inside and
pulled his guts out with bare hands. The cadence of his heart p
icked up momentum.

Ignoring the palpitations,
he turned the page. Another picture caught his eyes, this one he remembered as
if it was taken yesterday. He’d been six at a family vacation with the
Montgomery
’
s in Majorca with the Mediterranean Sea in the
background. Subconsciously, he wiggled his toes in his
boots. He could still hear the waves of the ocean and feel the sand coating his
toes. Once again, his eyes were drawn to the picture of Jason and him sitting
between Charles and Luc, staring at the sea
.
Unbeknownst to them, his mother had captured the shot. Victoria had stayed
behind in the house.

Clear, episodic memories
flashed in his mind, kindling mental images of a time gone. He pressed on and
flipped through each album, closely analyzing each prin
t. Kindergarten graduation, birthday parties, all the major events of his
formative years, Charles was always within his peripheral vision. Forrest never
made much of it since Jason and he were the same age, attended the same school
until college, it made
sense to always have both of
their fathers around. But there were those moments, his college graduation,
medical school graduation, his time at the Montgomery compound at Charles’
request.

Vivid, clear-edged
memories of his life spiraled in pattern. Each o
ne
consisted of minute details of Charles in some form or another. Even when he
thought of Claire, it came back to Charles, all the way down to his middle
name.

Everything in his life
came back to Charles Montgomery.

His
godfather.

He chuckled at the irony
.
The lie of
the role.

In retrospect Charles was
always around, in the shadows, looking furtively through a narrow opening.
Close but never close enough.

Pain throbbed violently
around his skull, like a toothache in his brain, right between his eyes. Forre
st took off his glasses and rubbed the middle of his
forehead. His mind running wild with
What
ifs
.

What if his father had
left his mother?

What if Charles had left
Victoria?

What if his mother had
married Charles?

What if they had told him
the truth from
the get go?

What if…

His head hurt.

“This is for you.” His
mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up at her. She
appeared better than last time he saw her. Her gray eyes had a little more
life, almost as if she had accepted fate and was finally
moving forward.

He took the envelope she
held out to him. “Thanks.”

“Rosa told me Claire has
been staying with you.”

He nodded. “She has.”

His mother smiled. “You’ve
forgiven her. Perhaps one day you can forgive me.”

“I understand why she
left. I don’t un
derstand all of this.”

She glanced at the
envelope in his hand. “It’s from your father. Luc,” she added for
clarification.

None was needed. In his
heart, Luc would always be his father.

“I’ve wanted to give this
to you, but you’ve been so angry.”

Discoveri
ng your life was filled with lies and secrets tended to do
that to a person. But he pursed his lips and kept his temper in check He
watched her walk to the door. She had the posture of a ballet dancer, strong,
erect, and graceful. At the door, she stopped
and
turned to look at him once more. The residue of regret flickered in her eyes.
It made his heart ache because as Charles said, there were two women he’d loved
unconditionally. One was at Vapor practicing for her event tonight and the
other was staring a
t him. “Do you need help with
anything?”

A smile touched her lips.
“No. Everything is in order.”

He almost laughed at the
contradiction of the word, because nothing in their lives was in order. “I’m
going to start coming here every day if you need
anything.”

She nodded. “Yes, Charles
told me about that.”

“He did, huh?” The man was
full of himself, a trait that always annoyed the hell out of Forrest.

“Forrest…” she started in
a pleading voice.

He put up a hand. “No need
to explain.”

She nodded. “Shou
ld I make us a late lunch?”

He had a lunch date with
Claire, but he studied his mother, and decided if things went right, he’d have
a lifetime with Claire. All the pieces once scattered seemed to have glued back
together. Except the
she’s
leaving again
bit, but he was still trying to figure out where that piece
might fit in the puzzle.

Could he ask her to stay?

Would that be selfish on
his part?

What if she said no?

His stomach tightened into
a series of rolling knots. Not wanting to examine his situatio
n with Claire too closely, he decided they had time.
A full week.

The anger he’d carried was
weighing him down. That he needed to deal with immediately. For starters, work
on mending the broken relationship with his mother. “I’ll be there in a
little.” Onc
e alone, he sent a text to Claire.

Have to cancel lunch.
Still at the farm.
See you back at Lake Tashmoo.

Her response came quick.

Everything ok
ay
?
Need
me
?

A smile touched his lips.
He’d always need her.

All’s well. See you at home.

After a minute
of silence to garner his strength, Forrest opened the
envelope and pulled out the folded paper. He put on his glasses, and brought
the words into focus.

Dear Forrest,

My mouth tastes of sadness as I write this note. My eyes are full
of tears because the day you read this means I am no longer around. It also
means you have found out I am not your biological father.

First and foremost, please accept my most sincere apology for
withholding something like this from you for so long. You’re my son. I love
you. I carry you in my heart. I am so proud of the man you’ve become.

I hope you can continue to love me, carry me in your heart, and
stay proud of me.

Like everyone else, I wasn’t perfect. Actually, I could be
inconsiderate and when it comes to you, my only concern was my own personal
pleasure. Call me selfish because no matter from which angle you look at it, I
robbed a man, a friend, of a chance to raise his son. I didn’t even do it out
of spite. While I was angry over what occurred, I learned to forgive…because of
love. I love Charles like a brother. I love my wife. They both love me.

‘To err is human; to forgive, divine.’

It is natural to make mistakes and it is important to forgive
people when they do. We made a mistake by not telling you everything, but alas
we are only humans.

Charles loves you. He always has. Your mother loves you. I love
you.

Quite a conundrum, don’t you think? For one person to be
surrounded by so much love, to have two fathers, a best friend who happens to
be his brother.

From what I know of my son, I am sure your world has been rocked.
Like me, you like order and control. I ask that you let go.
Stop
overthinking.
You can’t control everything. Sometimes not being in
control is the most beautiful thing in the world.

It was selfish of me to ask Charles to let me raise you as my own
and never gave him a chance to be the father he wanted to be to you. From time
to time I’d catch the longing in his eyes, but you know Charles. He’s a man of
steel.

The greatest sacrifice is when someone forfeits his own happiness
for the sake of someone else. Giving up a child he obviously wanted was the
ultimate offering to cheer my heart. I know he did it out of guilt over what
happened with Marjorie, but he also wanted to give me the one thing I desired
most and could never have on my own.
A child.
That my son is the ultimate gift.

I ask that you eventually forgive each one of us. Remember
forgiveness doesn't excuse our behavior, but it will prevent our behavior from
destroying your heart.

I love you…

Aujourd’hui, Demain, Toujours.

Your father.

Since his whole body was
shaking, he dropped the letter on the desk and stared at it until he couldn’t
anymore. Then in choked desolation, he buried his face in his hands.