Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels by Aly Martinez
And, therefore, I didn’t just see it—I felt it. Deep inside, where no other man had ever been.
“This is crazy,” I told him, spreading my legs wide.
“I know,” he whispered, holding my gaze as he slid two fingers inside me.
I writhed, driving myself down, unable to get close enough.
I needed more. Not the kind of more his body could offer.
I wanted the kind of more that spoke to my soul that only Roman had to offer.
His hand worked me, pumping in and out, taking me closer and closer to the edge.
“Roman, I—”
“Shh… It’s okay, baby. Offer’s on the table. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. All you have to do is say yes.” He dropped his thumb to my clit and skillfully circled.
As an orgasm so strong that I feared I’d never be able to recover tore through me, I realized I was absolutely ready for anything and everything as long as it was with him.
“Mmm,” Roman purred into the top of my hair, snapping me out of my thoughts. I was plastered against his side, my hand fisting the front of his shirt, my cheeks heated, and my legs nearly shaking. Cupping my chin, he tipped my head back so he could meet my gaze. “What are you thinking about, babe?”
Nope. No way was I answering that question.
Luckily, I didn’t have to because, just as Kristen pulled open the door, ready to give Seth the tongue-lashing of his life, the air went static.
“Oh shit,” Kristen mumbled, glancing back at me, her eyes wide with apology.
His gaze found mine over the top of Kristen’s head. It dropped to my hand on Roman’s stomach as he said, “Liz?”
Chapter Ten
Roman
“Jon. Hey!” she said in surprise, immediately evacuating her position at my side and hurrying toward the door. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
The man’s eyes focused on me as he absently answered, “You didn’t show up at the Victorian. Been calling for the last hour. I got worried.”
I trailed after her, doing my best not to show the rage boiling in my veins or the sour churning in my gut.
For the love of all that’s holy, don’t let this be her boyfriend.
She stepped in front of Kristen, forcing her to move from the doorway. “Shit. I’m sorry. Today’s been crazy.”
Jon’s gaze flashed to mine as he shifted awkwardly in the doorway. “I can see.”
It hadn’t exactly been said in an asshole tone, but that was up for interpretation. However, just the fact that he was standing in Elisabeth’s doorway had my interpretation skewed—and not in his favor.
Shoving my hand over her shoulder to offer a shake, I smiled something that I hoped read: Hi, how ya doing? Meanwhile, my eyes read: If you’ve ever touched her, that shit is officially over. But it was my mouth that said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Roman Leblanc, Elisabeth’s husband.”
Her body went solid before she corrected, “Ex! Ex-husband.”
I shrugged and kept my eyes on Jon as I stated, “That’s debatable.”
“It’s not debatable!” she yelled over her shoulder at me. Then she looked back at the asshole and said, “He’s my ex-husband.”
“We’re still figuring that part out,” I amended.
Jon’s eyes bounced between us as he silently took us in. By the frustration and disappointment coloring his face, he was coming to the correct conclusion.
Or at least correct as far as I was concerned.
Elisabeth was on a slightly different page.
“We’re not figuring anything out!” she exclaimed, shoving my unshaken hand back over her shoulder. “Come on, Jon. Let’s talk on the porch.”
I should have let her go. I had no reason to be jealous. The connection Elisabeth and I shared was undeniable, no matter how much she tried to pretend she hated me. Hell, she had reason to hate me, but she’d spent the day in my arms, reminding me that I’d been living half of a life for the last two years. And, moments before this guy had arrived, her face had been red, her hand had been clutching my shirt, and a soft moan had escaped her throat. There was no fucking way I was losing that.
She might have been confused about who she belonged to.
But Jon would not walk out of that house without being fully informed.
Stepping in front of her, I slid a hand up her neck and into her hair, gently fisting until it forced her head back. Her breath caught as I leaned into her face, and I took great pleasure in the goose bumps that pebbled her smooth skin.
Brushing my nose with hers, I whispered, “Hurry up, baby. Sushi’s waiting.”
She stared, her lips parting as I licked my own. She was in my trance. I recognized it because I’d been lost in hers for nearly a decade.
Ever so slightly, she tipped her chin up, offering me the lips I was starved for. I could have taken her right there in front of Kristen, Jon, and the entire fucking city of Atlanta and she would have come willingly.
“Always so fucking ready for me,” I murmured.
I wanted to kiss her—and never stop.
Unless it was to move my mouth between her legs.
At the thought, a low sound rumbled in my throat, and she suddenly came alert.
She blinked once, twice, and then I lost her.
Her hand went to my shoulder, shoving roughly as she seethed, “Let me go.”
Tightening my fist in her hair, I whispered, “Never,” before releasing her. Smiling at the man fuming in the doorway, I called out, “Nice to meet you, Jon,” as I casually turned and walked back to the kitchen.
When I heard the front door slam behind me, my shoulders fell and I closed my eyes. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I propped myself up on a white-knuckled fist on the island.
“Wow,” Kristen breathed behind me. “That was…”
Fuck. Time to be bitched at.
I lifted a hand to silence her. “I don’t want to hear it. I need a fucking drink, not a lecture.”
Her open hand landed hard on my shoulder, and my eyes popped open.
“Holy shit! That was incredible.” She laughed.
A shy smile tipped one side of my lips. I asked nervously, “Yeah? You think?”
“Roman! She hated you yesterday, and I swear to God she just came from that whole hand-in-the-hair bit.” She wrapped both hands in the front of my shirt and shook me. “Oh my God! You’re gonna get Elisabeth back!”
I barked a laugh of relief. “I’m sure as hell gonna try,” I told her.
She squealed, jumping into my arms like we were kids again.
Movement outside the front window caught my attention. Elisabeth’s feet swayed back and forth in the porch swing, Jon’s right beside her, which reminded me that we had a long way to go before we could celebrate anything.
“Okay, stop.” I used her shoulders to shift her off me. “I need you to fill me in on everything about his guy so I know what I’m up against.”
“Who? Jon?”
“No, the other man sitting on a swing I hung in a house that I bought and doing it all while sitting next to my wife.”
She attempted a glare, but her smile was too wide to give it any heat.
She headed toward the fridge and pulled two beers out, passing me one before starting. “Okay, so Jon…”
* * *
Two beers later, I was sitting on the corner of the island when Elisabeth came back inside carrying a plastic bag filled with to-go boxes.
She lifted them in the air, saying, “I decided to save Seth from certain death.”
“That son of a bitch,” Kristen cursed.
I chuckled, tipping the beer to my lips and hopping down to meet her.
She passed the bags off to me, but her eyes never met mine as she headed straight for the glass of wine I had waiting for her on the counter.
“Soooo, how’s Jon?” Kristen asked.
“He’s good,” she replied between gulps of her Chardonnay, not looking at either of us.
?
“Yep,” Elisabeth answered curtly, going to work on removing the boxes from the bags I’d set on the counter. She robotically opened each before closing it and sliding it down the counter to make room for the next. Once they were all laid out, she opened the cabinet above her and retrieved two plates.
Two.
Not three.
Two.
I felt Kristen’s gaze cut to me, but I was studiously watching Elisabeth’s back as she removed gyros from their boxes and delicately placed them on the blue, floral plates we’d received as a wedding gift. After she got every fry in place, she set one beside Kristen and the other beside me. Then she finally lifted her gaze.
I flinched when I got a look at the pain etched into her face. It was a look I knew well—defeat.
Shit. Maybe Kristen was wrong and this Jon guy actually means something to Elisabeth.
“Lissy,” I breathed, reaching out to her.
She took a step away and aimed her eyes at the floor. “Y’all go ahead and eat. Just let yourself out whenever you’re done. I’m gonna call it a night.”
“Elisabeth,” Kristen called, but she only lifted a hand in a wave and rushed from the room.
I moved to follow her but stopped at the foot of the stairs as she disappeared up to the top.
“What the hell was that?” Kristen asked after we’d both heard the bedroom door quietly close.
I raked a hand through the top of my hair. “No clue. You’re sure about this Jon guy?”
“Positive. No way that’s about him.” Kristen appeared at my side, offering one of the plates of food my way. “Here. Go after her. I’ll let the dog in and lock up.”
I nodded, but my feet remained stuck. That expression on Elisabeth’s face had been like a knife from the past, gutting me all over again. She had worn that look of heartbreaking despondency every time I’d seen her after Tripp died. Back then, I didn’t know how to fix it. I thought that, if I could give her another baby, maybe, just maybe, I could make it all go away and bring the vibrant woman who’d stolen my heart back.
I physically couldn’t do it. Fertility just wasn’t on my side.
And it killed me that I wasn’t financially able to do it either. I was a soldier who had gotten out of the military with hopes and dreams of starting my own consulting firm. But hopes and dreams wouldn’t give us a baby. For that, I needed cold, hard cash.
So I went to work. All day. All night. Busting my ass so I could offer her the world.
Only, in the process, I lost it all.
And, in my stupidity, she lost it all, too.
Money fixed exactly zero of my problems. I could buy anything I wanted.
Except her.
Never her.
“Roman,” Kristen hissed, taking my hand and wrapping it around the edge of the plate. “Go!”
I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath, and did what I should have done years earlier.
I walked up the stairs to save my wife—and our family.
Only I didn’t make it far.
A man greeted me at the top of the stairway.
“Fuck!” I yelled, my hands immediately going up in defense, french fries flying everywhere. I caught the plate at the last second as my eyes adjusted and I recognized the man.
Me.
“Fucking shit!” I shouted, taking in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that covered the entirety of the wall, including the one beside it that ran parallel to the two bedroom doors on one side of the landing.
It had most definitely not been there when I’d moved out, and frankly, it was scary as hell.
The door cracked, and Elisabeth’s head poked out.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her cheeks still damp from crying.
I ignored her question and pointed to the mirror with the plate. “What the fucking hell is that?”
Her head twisted to the side, her lip curling with attitude as she answered, “A mirror.”
“Okay, but why?”
She swung the door open and propped a shoulder on the jamb. “Well, originally, it was an effort to make this tiny hallway feel bigger. But it didn’t exactly go as planned. Now, I just feel like I live in a fun house. I’ve been…”
I believe there were more words spoken after that, but the blood drained from my head in a rush down south.
She’d changed clothes. Elisabeth’s sleep attire was much like her fancy daily wear. No frumpy old sweats for her. She slept in short, silky dresses, nightgowns, nighties. Whatever they were called, I loved them for a myriad of reasons. Including the way they showed her legs off and the ridiculously easy access they offered in the middle of the night. But, upon seeing her now, I remembered my favorite reason of all: They left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Everything, from the swell of her breasts to the curve of her hips, was outlined in spectacular fashion.
My eyes dropped to her nipples, which were peaking behind the fabric, and just as quickly, her arms came up to cross over them.
“Anyway,” she said, “did you need something?”
Yes. You. Naked and calling my name. “You need to eat.”
She rolled her eyes. “No. I need to sleep.”
She started to close the door, but I caught it with my free hand.
“Why were you crying?” I asked.
“I wasn’t.”
“Bullshit.” I took a step into the room, forcing her inside with me.
Her lips went thin as I kicked the door closed behind me.
“You need to leave,” she contended while I moved past her to set the plate on her nightstand.
“Tell me why you were crying and I’ll see what I can do about that,” I lied.
She scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know, Roman. You’re a smart man. I’m sure you can figure this out without an explanation.”
I glanced around the room. Not much had changed. Our wedding pictures were no longer covering the walls, but minus the khaki bedding that had been switched for a pink-and-white stripe, it all remained the same. Her closet door was wide open, shoes neatly organized over the floor, necklaces draped over hooks I’d mounted on the back of the door.
When we’d bought the place, I’d promised her that I’d expand the closet for her. It was one of the many promises I’d broken to her.
“That guy, Jon. He mean something to you?” I asked, going to the window, peeking out just in time to see Kristen’s car backing out of the driveway.
She laughed, but it held no humor. “That’s seriously your first guess? After the day we’ve had, you guess I’m up here pining over Jon?”
I glanced back in her direction and cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a no?”
She released a frustrated groan, walked to the door, and snatched it open. “Leave.”
I ignored her request and sat on the side of the bed. Resting my elbows on my knees, I interlocked my fingers and let them hang between my legs. “So, you’re upset about the shit that went down at the police station today?”
She blinked for several seconds, her chest heavily rising and falling. She was about to explode, but sometimes, that was the only way to break a wall down.
“Lissy,” I whispered, lighting the fuse.
Three.
Two.
One.
“No! I’m upset because this is my life!”
Boom!
She gave the door a hard shove, slamming it shut before marching over to me. Crossing her arms over her chest, she snapped, “Let’s see. Where should I start?” She waited for a reply that wasn’t going to come before she continued. “My day began in a police station, where I found out that someone might have pulled the old switch-a-roo on my embryos. Then I woke up a second time to find my ex-husband standing in my kitchen, drinking beer, and ordering dinner. Then he pinned me to a fucking couch, declaring his one hundred percent involvement.” She paused and lifted two fingers in the air. “This being said two goddamn years after he’d checked out on me. Then his sister showed
She wasn’t wrong.
All of that had happened.
But she’d left a lot of the details out.
After rising to my feet, I closed the distance between us. Her eyes went wide as I hooked an arm around her hips and pulled her off-balance so she crashed into my chest.
“See, my day went a little differently,” I started gruffly. “I woke up this morning, after I’d spent the entire night trying to figure out how to get the woman I love to take money from me. She hates me, but I fucking hate the idea that I can’t take care of her.”
“I don’t—” she started to interrupt, but I talked over her.
“I arrived at the police station, where I saw said woman, and I felt my heart beat for the very first time in two fucking years.”
Her mouth fell open, but when I cupped the back of her neck, she slammed it shut.
“Then I found out that some asshole I trusted enough to give my life savings to decided to sell my child to someone else. Yeah, I don’t give a single fuck we used a sperm donor. I also don’t give a damn that that child was in a petri dish when it was sold. That child is ours. Wherever the hell it might be right now.” I paused for a breath, and she wisely remained quiet. “Then, upon hearing this news, you fell into my arms, clinging to me as if we’d never been apart. With that, Lis, my lungs inflated for the first time since I’d found you sitting on the couch with your bags packed around you. I walked out of that police station with you in my arms, shocked and pissed the fuck off, but I felt like someone had finally pressed play on my life again.” I squeezed the back of her neck. “So, yeah, baby, you better believe I’m one hundred percent involved in that.”
“Roman,” she sighed, her stiff body finally starting to relax in my arms.
I kept going. “Then my annoying-ass sister showed up in order to convince you to keep at least some of the money I’d sent so I could get one single night of sleep where I didn’t close my eyes and worry you needed something. I will not fucking apologize for that. That leads me to the part where a man I do not know showed up at your door, trying to steal that new beat in my heart and breath in my lungs, so damn straight I reacted. You aren’t gonna get an apology from me about that, either. For fuck’s sake, I called you my wife. I didn’t beat the piss out of him. And believe me, the thought did cross my mind.”