LATCH (8 page)

She pulls away and looks me in the eye. Her chest heaves up and down, so white and pure. My eyes are drawn to her lips, slightly parted, and I run my thumb over them remembering how not so long ago, we would spend hours kissing and talking. With Abby, it wasn’t just about the sex; there was so much more to our connection, from day one. She straddles my lap and leans down kissing my neck. A feeling that I’ve missed so much, her touch. My cock awakens, growing to its full length rapidly.

My hands roam her body, but I don’t push things, I let her take her time, loving being intimate with her again. She kisses along my jaw, making the cutest noises and I can’t help but push my cock against her. She grinds her hips against me, and before I know it, we are both naked and I watch her delicately roll a condom down my shaft. With a handful of her hair in one hand and my dick in the other, she settles down on top of me.

“Oh fuck,” she cries out, and I close my eyes already feeling like I could come. I hope that I can make it longer than a few pumps with her sacred skin wound so tightly around me. Letting go of her hair, she intertwines our fingers and begins to move, up and down, up and down.

I lick my lips, holding hands with her, wanting, needing to eat her up, but I don’t. Abby is the only person that I let control me, that I let take the lead, that I let do whatever she wants to me. I’m not sure why or how we got to this point, but we did and it feels so fucking good.

Each collision of our bodies is met with her moans. My eyes are on hers, never closing them, reading her, needing to know if this is the beginning of us starting something new. But she works me so damn good that nothing else matters. I let go of every fear that is pent up inside of me and live in this moment, in this second, inside of this woman. A woman who has turned my world upside down and made me feel things that I never thought I could.

Waking up, the sun is warm as it slices across my chest. I blink a few times to bring in the room and reach for Abby, remembering our night together and how I fell asleep with her in my arms. But right now, she isn’t with me. A thread of panic runs through me as I sit all the way up, and look around the room. “Abby?” I call out.

The house is quiet and I pace it looking for her. She has to be here. From my room, to the bathroom, living room, and kitchen all is quiet…dammit, she fucking left. Then on a small table by the front door, I find a handwritten note.

Latch,

Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t change a thing that we’ve done. But nothing is going to change the man that you truly are and what you do for a living, and I don’t think it would be fair of me to ask you to change. Most women would’ve had to pay you to stay the night with them last night, and that’s a small comfort, but it’s not enough. I’ve pushed what you do to the back of my mind for as long as I can. I’ve tried to make myself believe that I am different, but I’m not. Your phone woke me up, ringing repeatedly all night. As much as I wish we’d met years ago, we didn’t, and I just can’t accept your lifestyle. Whatever we are, or were, has to end. It was never real. We were nothing more than a means to satisfy each other’s desires, just like the women who you work for, who call you at all hours of the night. I’m no different to you than any of them and I know that. I can’t be a part of it anymore…I’ll miss you, take care of yourself, Latch.

Abby

Dropping the note to the floor, I rest my hand on the wall. The air from my lungs has been stripped away from me.
How could losing someone that was never really mine hurt so fuckin’ much?

Grabbing my cell phone off the coffee table, I notice there are thirteen missed phone calls, all from different clients. I ignore them and dial Abby, worried about her leaving and ending things like this. I know I am not the man that she wants, but for her I’d change, and she needs to know that. Her phone goes to voicemail after a few rings.

Sitting on the couch, I let out a deep sigh dialing her again, but she doesn’t pick up, so I send her a text,
Please call me, I got your note. We need to talk.

I wait for her to respond, hoping that she will. Why would she do this after how perfect last night was? If she was feeling that way, she didn’t even give me a chance to explain my side of things. We could’ve made things work. I’d quit my job right now, if that’s what she wants. For Abby I’d do anything. Which is not like me, it’s what I’ve lived my entire life trying to avoid…but here I sit, dependent upon her for my sanity and it’s crazy how vulnerable I’ve let myself become.

Suddenly my own helplessness in this situation has me sitting here in anger. I’m willing to change my entire world for her, the least she could do is text me back. The blood coursing through my system is hot and I don’t know what else to do. I could go to her house, but that would just make things worse with her husband, which I don’t want. Looking at my phone again, I keep waiting, but deep down know that she is not going to text me back. Tossing my phone on the table in frustration, I grab my keys and look down at the note on the floor, picking it up before heading out. I need some perspective on things before I let my mind start to run and do something that I’ll regret.

I wipe the tears away from my eyes after leaving Latch’s so suddenly. He was sleeping so peacefully and it killed me to walk out, but the man I want him to be and who he really is are two completely different people.

Getting out of the cab, I walk back into my life, back into the madness. I don’t want to be doing this, but after being with Latch last night and feeling the pull that he has over me, I know this is what I have to do. He provokes something inside of me, something so strong it scares me, and there is no way it’ll end well, unless I stop it now. If I think for one second that he’ll change and what we have could be real, I’m only kidding myself. For Christ’s sake, his phone rang all night long, a different woman’s name every time, and it made me wonder, had I not been there, would he have been out fucking all of those women? My gut says he would’ve.

It’s still early as I open the door and look around the dark condo. Darrell is tranquil, passed out in the same spot that I left him. The note I left seems to be untouched and I’m tempted to throw it away, but I worry that he saw it and will question me when he wakes up about why I did that.

Heading to the bedroom, I change out of my dress and wash my face. Looking at my pale countenance, I can still feel Latch’s lips on mine. I run my fingers over them, wishing that things could be different. Heading to my bed, I get under the covers and curl up in a ball, tucking the covers under my chin. The sun is starting to peek through the clouds, and I close my eyes, praying that I can fall asleep. But my mind is consumed with Latch. The way he looked at me as I rode him, our fingers intertwined, both of us loving the intimacy again.

But the perfect vision of us quickly changes as I get a flashback of him dry humping that woman on the dance floor. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money, there is no denying that, even for me. That’s why I don’t need him to tell me he won’t stop doing what he does, ’cause I know he won’t. It’s all he knows and he’s told me that. After he fell into the business, he finally has a purpose and a purpose that keeps his heart guarded. Plus, who am I to ask him to stop? If I were to get the balls to leave Darrell, and think that Latch and I could make things work, then I would need to be able to deal with his work, but I can’t.

So what I have to do now is make a decision. Do I want to make my marriage work, because it’s all that
I
have, or do I want to forge forward in this life, alone? Thinking of that scares the life out of me. Either way, the road ahead of me won’t be easy, and it hurts knowing that I’ll never be with Latch again, but it’s the right thing.

Off in the distance, I hear my phone vibrating. I’m sure it’s Latch, but right now I’ve got to put myself first. The sun is beginning to rise; he must’ve woken up and seen my note. I’m sure it hurt him, but it’s for the best and I have to believe that. We cannot be together and if either of us thinks for one minute that we can, we’re wrong. Even if he were to agree to stop, he’s told me before that relationships just don’t work, that he becomes closed off and detached. Which is why I accepted our relationship the way I did; I’d take Latch any way I could have him as long as it was mutual. Closing my eyes, I pray for some relief, some peace, and maybe the answers to the havoc that has rained down on my life.

A racket in the kitchen startles me out of sleep, my heart slamming against my chest. Darrell doesn’t cook, so I wonder who in God’s name is here. He probably called his mom or sister and they came to ruin my life even more. As I rub my eyes and look outside, the sun has capped the morning sky. Setting my feet on the cool, hardwood floor, I pad quietly across the room and peer out trying to see who is making the noise.

My jaw about hits the floor when I catch sight of Darrell, cooking. He burns his hand and pulls it away, silently cursing to himself and then runs it under the water. He looks sober as he takes a sip of coffee and then goes back to the stove.

Curious to see his reason for cooking and not sulking on drunk like he has been, I venture out and am surprised when he says, “Morning, beautiful.” He hasn’t called me anything except “Abby” in years. What? Now he’s suddenly acting like everything is normal?

Turning towards him with my eyebrows scrunched together, I search for the right words and he asks, “Will you hand me two plates?”

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Cooking breakfast.”

“Why?” He reaches above me grabbing the plates himself as I am still in shock.

“Why not?” he challenges back, splitting the scrambled eggs for the two of us.

I shake my head and turn back towards the coffee, so fucking confused. “It’s already on the table, Ab, just how you like it.” Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see my favorite coffee cup, steaming, at the chair I always used to sit at.

Walking to the table, I pick it up and begin to take it to the bedroom. There is no way after all that he has put me through that some breakfast gesture is going to make me forget all of the horrible things he’s done and said to me.

“Please eat with me,” he pleads, walking towards me with the food in his hands, and I look at the genuine expression on his face. I don’t think that he has ever cooked for me.

His eyes are insistent as he sets our plates down and pulls a chair out for me. Reluctantly, I sit.

“Thank you,” he says.

Sitting across from Darrell is strange. “Eat up,” he says and takes in a mouthful of food. Looking over my plate, my fucked up mind starts to spin, and I wonder if he’s trying to kill me with this food. Reaching over, I take his plate and hand him mine. He’s got to have a reason for this sudden change of heart.

He rolls his eyes at me and says, “Really, Abby?”

“What? Yours looked better.”

He shakes his head. “Do you really think that I’d hurt you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He begins to eat the eggs off of the plate I gave him and asks, “Do you want to switch coffees too?”

I shake my head, knowing how ridiculous it is of me to paint him in that picture. As hurtful as he can be sometimes, I hope that he’d never do anything to me. But anger can make you do crazy things. Looking into his sober eyes, I wonder if maybe he is really trying.