Cheaters Anonymous (8 page)

That night, I went to bed happy yet sad. My brain seemed to have joined a NASCAR team because it was racing in a world of its own. I tossed and turned, thinking how different my life could have been if we had only stayed in touch, and I finally cried myself to sleep. Yes, Scar Wagner was definitely not healthy for me, but the excitement he gave me solidified my belief that he was also a drug that I was desperate for. One I would find difficult not to abuse.

C
HAPTER
7

The next morning I woke up with the biggest confusion hangover ever, and the loud banging on the front door wasn’t helping. I opened one eye, then the other, swearing under my breath. It definitely felt like I’d just gone to sleep. In fact, I was sure I had just closed my eyes. After showering, I tossed and turned in my bed going over the conversation I’d had with Scar at the club. I wanted our friendship more than anything, but I also wanted much more than both of us were willing to give. How could I balance my need for him with friendship?

Another bang sounded, louder this time, combined with a doorbell. Who in their right mind would be visiting me at nine in the morning? I pulled my covers aside, wondering whether it was someone for Zoey. My sister had a weird group of artsy friends. She’d stopped switching men like gloves since she finished dance school, but substituted changing them like underwear. Though I had to say, I hadn’t seen her go out with anyone in quite some time. The group she hung out with were some of the heaviest partiers I’d seen in my life. She must have gotten in later than I did last night.

I closed her door as I passed by her bedroom. We lived together at this apartment because it was cheaper, and I loved having her close to me, even if currently I was the one who paid for the rent, groceries, and utilities. After all, I owed her my life. Zoey had saved me before we left Washington. She’d used her trust fund money to pay off a debt I’d be stuck with for the rest of my life. However, the past few months, while Zoey supposedly looked for a new job, I felt like we’d grown further apart.

Maybe I should cut back some hours at work?

She was barely ever home, and no longer looking for a job to replace the one she’d lost over a year ago. I was afraid she was still struggling with the fact that she’d lost her position at the studio and couldn’t find anything comparable.

Another full-fisted bang sounded.

“I’m coming,” I growled. I pulled on my robe, cursing the visitor for making me get out of bed this early.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Jules, it’s me. Open the door.”

I wiped the crust out of my sticky eyes, double-checked through the peep hole, and pulled on the handle. When I opened the door I wished I’d at least combed my hair. Scar stood on top of the staircase, a grin of deluded happiness stretching across his face. He wore what appeared to be the same white shirt he’d had on the previous night, with the top three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, showing off part of that sexy rose tattoo. Scar took my breath away. His disheveled hair only added extra oomph to his gorgeous look. This man was an utter mess in the most beautiful way possible.

“Do you know what time it is? Didn’t you work last night? How did you get up so early?”

“I never went to sleep.”

What?

“Thank God you’re not working. I didn’t think you would be, being a doctor and all, and since you had a late night I figured you’d be home and I’ve been waiting in my car for a couple of hours because I didn’t want to wake you too early...”

I tuned him out and peeked back into the kitchen to double-check the time. Three minutes after nine.

Too early?

Coming off a night shift, this felt more like midnight to me.

“Come in, please.”

Scar was still blabbering something about a rough night and not concentrating and women hitting on him once again. He didn’t even pause between the sentences. His pupils were dilated, and he couldn’t shut up.

“Would you like some coffee?” I asked.
Or Prozac?

“Please.”

I filled in the pot and set the machine to brew.  “Is everything okay? How did you know where I lived?” I didn’t recall giving him my address last night.

“You’re listed.”

Right.

“I couldn’t even find the strength to go home, Jules. I’ve been thinking about you, actually about us, the entire night, and I knew that if I went home I wouldn’t be able to sleep with everything that I wanted to say to you.”

Scar without sleep was definitely the same as Scar on ecstasy. Not that I’d ever seen him high on drugs, other than weed. Scar never touched anything else.

“You need to slow down a bit, Scar. I have to change and have a cup of coffee before my brain begins to function. Zoey’s still sleeping so keep it down. Wait for me here?”

“Sure.”

I rushed upstairs, jumped in a quick shower, pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top, tied my hair back in a ponytail, and came back down. In my kitchen, wearing my apron that said
What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen
, Scar was flipping pancakes. A bowl of sliced mango and pineapple along with two cups of steaming coffee were set up on the side. I didn’t remember the last time anyone had prepared breakfast for me. This was a completely different man than the one I’d known. I remembered him being served breakfast at home as if he were the prince. But I guessed that was a normal thing when you had a personal butler and a mother who wanted to outshine the help every chance she got. This man appeared more independent; and seeing him slide across the kitchen floor, from the table to the sink, he was the definition of living your life to the fullest.

What the heck happened?

He pulled another ‘Tom Cruise from
Risky Business
’ slide toward me, his smile stretching wide across his face, and I couldn’t help but picture him without those pants.

“Scar, are you sure you’re okay? Let me have a look at you.”

The doctor in me wanted to give him a thorough examination, and maybe another toxicology report. He definitely looked as if he was on meth or something. Scar turned off the stove, removed the pan, wiped his hands, and somehow I ended up stuck between him and the kitchen counter. With his hands splayed at my sides and his entire body against mine, he robbed me of an escape. The weight of his hips on my belly and the hardness of him underneath those pants, even when not erect, sparked a need inside me. The kind of desire I had fought to erase from my life during the past year crept in each time I saw him or thought about him. My pulse raced. It only took seconds for Scar to deprive me of a sound mind.

“Want to examine me, Doctor?” His sweet breath curved around my face. I lifted my finger to wipe the raw pancake batter off his bottom lip. He took my hand before I had a chance to lower it, sucked my thumb clean, and kissed it gently. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the touch of his lips against my skin.

“Has something happened with your father?” I asked. Was that why he was acting so strange? From what I remembered, their relationship wasn’t anything to be proud of. Scar whistleblew some of his father’s illegal businesses by working with the FBI, but as far as I knew, they had overcome their issues. His father was forced to give it all up without having to go to jail, but still didn’t like Scar meddling in his business. As a good lawyer – actually one of the best in the city, if not the state – Mr. Wagner didn’t need to work for the rest of his life. Just managing their law firm, he would still have enough cash to fill in a football stadium, and yet that had never been enough. On top of all that was his cheating, so maybe Scar had had a setback. Perhaps they hadn’t patched things up the way I thought?

“Scar, I know you don’t believe in relationships, and I understand how much your father’s affair hurt you. But as your friend, I can guarantee you the place I told you about could help you. Even if you don’t want to speak, just hear different sides of infidelity. Maybe you can relate. Perhaps it could help you move on? I’ve met so many people who survived struggles. They were able to work it out. Scar, you’re the only friend who ever made me feel things I didn’t know were even possible. I... I really want to help you.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. It seemed like my words had flown in one ear and out the other. He stood so close to me that my brain was beginning to fog up again. All it took was one look from him, and I was melting. “But I’m not ready to be fixed just yet.”

What did he mean by that?

“I can’t say I’m not concerned by your behavior,” I whispered. I heard a change in my voice. It was filled with lust, and if Scar didn’t back away, I was afraid I’d lose the last ounce of control I held. The same way I almost lost it last night.

“If you think I’m high, I can guarantee you that I don’t do drugs, Jules. Not even weed anymore. I’m just... happy.”

I recalled the familiar sweet smoke I had always remembered on him, and only noticed now that it was missing. But if he wasn’t high, then where was his dream-like state coming from?

“Wait, you don’t smoke anymore?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. Let the habit go a few years back.”

Wow!

“I prefer to concentrate on... other things.”

Did he mean sex? Women? Jealousy pinched my chest. Had he used the euphoria of two bodies connecting as a substitute for his habit? Now I definitely felt guilty about last night. I shouldn’t have been so forward, giving him hope and encouraging him.

“And I badly want to concentrate on you, Jules. Only you.”

Oh my!

“What do you mean?” I felt my stomach grumble and at the sound Scar took a step back.

“Let’s sit down and talk over some breakfast.”

I sat at one end of the table and reached for my coffee, but when Scar pulled up the chair from the opposite side and set it beside me, I froze.

“Are you nervous when I get close to you?” he asked.

“A little, I guess.”

“I’m nervous too. I had a lot of time to think last night.” He took a fork, jabbed a piece of pancake on its end, and brought it to my lips. I took the mouthful of deliciousness and was thankful that I couldn’t reply. I’d been thinking about him as well: him kissing me, fondling me, fucking me. My nipples bunched up at the thought.

The familiarity of the uncomfortable comfort between us returned, and I smiled.

“You look tired,” I said sipping my coffee. “Couldn’t this have waited until the afternoon?”

“No way. I now realize that this has been the moment I’ve been waiting for the past six years. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again,” he said.

I shifted in my seat as warmth radiated through my body. What exactly did he mean by that? And now all I could think about were his fingers slipping between my legs. My core was beginning to burn more than Anakin Skywalker at the end of Episode Three.

His gaze lifted and I saw what I thought to be a spark of new hope in his eyes. “I don’t think we can stay just friends.”

What? Would I lose him again?

“Because when I see you, I think about you as a woman I’m dying to be inside. And that’s not fair to you.” He put a piece of fruit into his mouth, and with his elbow resting on the table and fork doing a dance up in the air, he continued, “I’d like to hope that we could work out our issues and be more than just friends. But I know that you’re recovering, and I wouldn’t want to hinder that. So I won’t do anything without full disclosure, Jules. You know that I’m a fuck up. I used to get off on breaking couples apart and supporting that with the cheating theory I still believe.” He paused for a moment, and his shoulders lowered a fraction. “But when I see you, things just change. I want to be wrong about everything I ever believed in. I can’t create a boundary between friends and lovers when I’m with you. So it’s a constant struggle inside: do I hit on Jules, or do I leave her alone because I know that I will hurt her? Do I kiss her deep with my tongue the way she deserves to be kissed, or just peck her on her cheek? Do I just give in and fuck her the way I know she wants me to, or do I take that need and make more of it – make it last?”

When he looked at me this time, I felt my mouth fall open. All the words he’d said mixed and mumbled in my brain.
That
I wasn’t ready for. I just wanted to see him last night – I didn’t expect this floodgate of unspoken feelings between us to be opened.

I lifted my coffee and took another sip. I was pretty sure it was part of a strategy not to speak at the moment. I just wasn’t sure how to process all this, and I wanted to hear what else Scar had to say. And I definitely didn’t know what to say.

“Please tell me you feel the same way. I mean, Jules, when I’m close to you, I just want to rip those clothes off your back and have you in my arms the way I used to. Please tell me you’ve thought about us that way, because I’ve never met anyone I felt so comfortable with. As much as I want to remain friends, you must know that we have some unfinished business. I’ve cursed myself to death for not having a condom that night in the cave, and if I were able to bring that night back, I’d make sure I’d get to feel you squeeze around my cock. And it’s not just about sex anymore, it’s... you’re just my Jules.”

His words licked through me like fire, my mind shifting to an image of our connected bodies tumbling anywhere and everywhere in my house as he thrust inside me. I heard myself panting, and my limbs grew weaker and my chest sweated at the thought. Oh, God, how much I wanted to feel his width and length plunge deep inside me and for Scar to bury himself to the hilt! I’d been dreaming about this moment almost every night for the past six years. But what would happen afterward? I didn’t even know how not to walk out of the room once I was done having sex.

“But I won’t touch you without your permission. I will not fuck this up, and as much as I want to get down on my knees and underneath this table, take off those purple panties so that I can taste you, I won’t until I’m worthy of you.”