Whisper Through The Pain (A Novella) Read Free Page A

Jake’s middle name. It never bothered her that she wasn’t his number one priority.  She admired him but love—that was something she didn’t do. She tried it once with Brent and came out of it with too many wounds and scars. 
    The garage door went up. Melissa stood waiting for him to throw his keys in the small ceramic basket on the table by the door, glance through the mail neatly stacked on the side counter and come down the hall to the great room. This was his ritual every day but tonight he didn’t bother coming. He moved toward his office, went in and shut the door behind him.
    Melissa moved slowly toward the office and stood in front of the door. Taking a cleansing breath, she opened the door and walked through.
    He glanced at her over his shoulder and continued pouring scotch into a glass. With his back to her, he swallowed the contents and then filled it again. He took a sip and turned toward her.
    “What do you want, Melissa?” His voice was gruff with agitation.
    “We need to talk.”
    “Really? Now you want to talk. I asked you a question today. I’m finished talking. ”
    She entwined her fingers. “This is not easy for me, Jake. But I can’t answer upon demand.”
    His laugh was hard. “Believe me sweetheart, you gave me your answer.”
    She frowned. “What is that, Jake?”
    He slammed the glass on the table by the sofa. “I asked if you wanted him.” He pointed to her. “You stiffened, pursed those damn pretty lips of yours, and tightened your stance. That leaves me to make an assumption that you want him. Am I right to do so or am I wrong?”
    She opened her mouth and shut it. Jake was a master interrogator but she wouldn’t be the target—not tonight. Granted, she was confused when it came to Brent. She’d loved him for a long time. It wasn’t something that could be turned on and off like a light switch.
    “Brent—”
    “Don’t. Speak. His. Name. Not in my presence. I’m not going to talk about him or the past you so conveniently kept silent.” He drained the rest of the whiskey in his glass and placed it on the counter of the mini-bar. “I’m going to bed.” He moved toward the door but stopped. “Don’t worry. You can have the master suite all to yourself where you can dream about your ex-husband. I won’t be a third party in my own bed. Not tonight. Not ever.”
    “How dare you say that to me!”
    “I dare a damn lot, lady.” He stalked to her. “I don’t share.”
    “When we made love, I was with you all the way. I’ve never given you cause to believe I was thinking of another man.”
    He laughed. It was cruel and harsh, wrapping around her like steel bars. “We never made love. It was sex— or fucking. Take your pick.”
    She slapped him hard across his face, leaving an imprint. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again. What happened today in your office was impulse. It wasn’t meant to hurt you or to belittle what we have. But you have too much pride to understand or listen to an explanation.”
    She’d never hit another human being in her life and she felt immediate remorse.  He had a right to be angry— that she could deal with, but not his disrespect.
    She bit her lip. The shock of what she did overwhelmed her. What was happening to her? “I’m sorry…I hit you. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. It was wrong,” she said, trying to hold back the tears. 
    He pulled her roughly into his arms. Entwining his hands in her hair, he pulled her head back and captured the pulse beating in her neck with his tongue.
    “So soft…smooth…beautiful,” he groaned.
    He suckled and then planted his mouth beside hers. She smelled the liquor on his breath, strong tobacco and a slight hint of a female’s cologne. She reared back, almost stumbling in the process.
    “Where have you been?”
    “Does it matter?”
    She stared at him, blinking back the tears. “Yes, it matters.”
    His laugh was harsh and angry. “Why?”
    “We’re