Free Man of My Dreams by Faith Andrews Page A

trying to fight back tears of my own. He takes the opportunity to sneak in and kiss me. I try to resist, but his tongue is too persuasive, too delicious, and I can’t lie to myself—I’ve missed this. The urgency of his kiss begs for mercy on his behalf. And with each passing second of our tangled heat, I find myself slipping closer and closer to forgiveness.
    Without warning, he guides me down beneath him. My eyes are still closed, enjoying our reunion. I’m not sure why I’m so willing when my head is telling me not to give in so easily. But it’s been a month since I kicked him out and damn it if my stone cold façade isn’t weakening under his powerful charm.
    “I missed you too, Declan. I missed you so much, but—I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”
    The warmth of his body vanishes, and I’m left trembling.
    “ Declan ?” He spits out. Abruptly he retracts, jolting back, revealing a very confused, very not-Declan face. That would be because he’s not Declan. He’s Noah.
    The phone rings, awakening me from this dream. Nightmare, really. I’m drenched in sweat and tears, struggling for breath. I force my eyes open, ridding them of the confusion, thankful that it was just another illusion. These cruel nightmares where Noah stars as the cheating bastard have replaced the preferred sex dreams of the past. The phone rings once more and I lift it from the receiver, checking the caller ID. Grace.
    “Hello? What’s the matter?” I answer, grumbling.
    “Nothing. Why does something have to be the matter for me to call you?”
    “Because it’s not even eight o’clock and I was still sleeping,” I growl as I sit up, reassessing my surroundings.
    “Well, get up! We have plans today and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
    I’m already thinking of an excuse to get her off my back. The pity party has lasted way too long and what I need is for life to just go back to normal. Fat chance of that happening. “We have no plans, Grace. I have mounds of laundry to do and if I don’t take down the Christmas decorations soon, I may just leave them up ‘til next year. Sorry to bust your bubble, hun.”
    Truth is, I’ve been moping around like a miserable robot for the last five weeks and I’m starting to get used to the depressed Mia. I have no use for Grace’s pep talks and no amount of pampering and bull-shitting will make me feel better about the fact that my husband is a cheating, lying son-of-a-bitch.
    “Cut the self-wallowing shit, Mia. I made arrangements for all the kids. Your parents are taking them and we’re getting you the hell out of that house and those dirty sweatpants and you will talk to me if I have to suck all the words out of your mouth with a goddamn vacuum hose!”
    Nice. I knew it was only a matter of time before she resorted to violence. “Grace, I’m just not in the mood. Can’t you understand that?”
    “I get it. I really do. I know you’re devastated, but you can’t keep ignoring everyone. You know he came here again last night, Mia. He’s just as miserable as you.”
    Okay, now I’m furious. I don’t care if he’s friends with Eric, but Grace is mine . How dare he try to get to her. “Oh, so now you’re on his side? Grace, I don’t need this shit. Especially not from you.”
    “Of course I’m not on his side. Are you out of your mind? Don’t answer that...I know you are. I flipped out on him again. Eric had to stop me from taking a swing. But that’s not the point, Mia. The two of you need to talk. If not for each other, for the girls.”
    That’s got to be the millionth time I’ve heard that from Grace, my parents, my in-laws, my goddamn treacherous subconscious. I don’t want to work this out for the kids. If we’re going to work this out it has to be for us . Because I don’t think I can live with the guilt of knowing that my husband is only with me out of some obligation to our kids. I want my husband to be with me because he loves me and can’t live