Forget & Forgive by L.A. Witt

Author:L.A. Witt [Witt, L.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642301809
Publisher: GallagherWitt Publishing LLC
Published: 2024-01-02T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Matteo

Sex always left me wrung out to some extent. I didn’t necessarily need to roll over and pass out the instant it was over, but a good orgasm could definitely knock me on my ass.

This time, I wasn’t blissfully drowsy. My body felt amazing, but I was emotionally shit-whipped in a way I’d never experienced after sex. Physically, it was that perfect afterglow that followed spectacular sex, but emotionally, it was the moment Owen had kicked me out all over again. No, worse: the moment what I’d done had registered on his face. It was the best and the worst at the exact same time, and I didn’t know how the hell I’d find my equilibrium again.

Owen and I had showered together, and I’d had to go through the motions on numb autopilot, unable to look him in the eye even while I was grateful he was there in case my knees gave out.

Now we were in his bed—in the bed that had once been ours—and if I hadn’t been so exhausted, I might’ve cried again.

That, too, was a new experience. I was aware some people cried during or after sex. One of my exes had cried whenever he came; it was just one of those things that happened when people were overwhelmed. It had never happened to me, though, and this wasn’t the force of a powerful orgasm driving me to tears. I’d come inside Owen, landed in his arms, and just… fallen apart.

It had only lasted a minute or two, but lying here beside him now, I felt like I’d been ugly crying for a solid hour. Drained. Rattled. Aching. Sure I was going to start again at the slightest provocation, but not so sure there were any tears left. Who knew the only thing that could tear me apart more than losing Owen was tumbling into bed with him again after all this time?

You don’t deserve what I did to you.

And I don’t deserve anything from you but contempt.

I still had no idea if there was any forgiveness here, or if Owen had just decided that sex was better than the fraught uneasiness of the last couple of days. I had no idea which of those options was worse. I just… I didn’t know a fucking thing right now except that for all I had, for the past year, understood what I’d lost—for all that had torn me to shreds every goddamned day—I was excruciatingly aware of it now.

Beside me, Owen propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand up the middle of my chest, his touch painfully affectionate and compassionate and his eyes full of concern. “You okay?”

The words “I haven’t been okay since last year” were dangerously close to the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want him to feel guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but I knew him—if I let the cracks show, he’d blame himself, and I wasn’t about to let him shoulder any of this.

So as I covered his hand with mine, I just said, “I’m okay.

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