The Regret of a Black Rose

The Regret of a Black Rose

Regret.

It was a feeling that Linda Wallace was relatively unfamiliar with. She didn’t regret marrying Sam Radford, she didn’t regret leaving him, and she didn’t even truly regret choosing her career over their son. She loved Nick, she did, but she had never really wanted kids, so letting Samhave him hadn’t been a difficult decision to make, especially given how successfully her career had flourished.

After Geoffrey had left her so abruptly, she had felt unexpectedly — and extremely — vulnerable, but romance was the last thing she wanted. And Nick had been nearly grown, so reaching out to him for comfort was safe.

The fact that it would put Sam's nose out of joint was just an added bonus.

Him finding out what had happened with Geoffrey had been . . . jarring, especially since he had used it to masterful effect against her. The Sam Radford she had always been able to manipulate suddenly vanished in the wake of a father who would do anything to make his son happy, so long as it was the best thing for him, and she had found herself with no choice but to withdraw and regroup. But in so doing, Linda Wallace discovered a startling fact: she wanted Sam back.

He had changed since their divorce, had grown up and found a calm center and stability that was extremely appealing. And so she had made reclaiming him her goal when she returned to Middleton, anticipating no real trouble with reeling him back in — especially since Nick would be thrilled at having his parents back together.

She could never have predicted Cassie Nightingale.

At first, she hadn’t taken the woman seriously, because she was the literal opposite of Sam's type. And Cassie’s easy acquiescence to Linda’s demand to stay away from her boys had made her overconfident, even though Sam had been coldly furious at her attempts to separate them. She honestly hadn’t seen that coming and could still hear his soft, pitying reply to her question about competing with Cassie.

“No one’s asking you to.”

Not even under pain of torture would she admit this, but Linda had actually shed a few tears on realizing that he really didn’t seem to want her back. Still, she hadn’t given up. And though she had intensified her efforts, using Nick at every turn to keep them doing things as a family unit (and also keep them both away from the other woman), even going to so far as to move in with them, it hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. Cassie's ex-boyfriend moving to town hadn’t even cooled his interest!

And when she had watched him walk her to Grey House one night and not come back for nearly three hours, Linda finally understood: Sam wouldn’t take her back until he had the chance to be with Cassie and realize just how badly matched they were. But because she was the complete opposite of Linda, the attraction made a certain amount of sense. So she had used Nick as the excuse to leave (she knew full well Sam had put him up to it, but saw no reason to make an issue of it; again, it wouldn’t change anything), because at least it allowed her to keep her dignity, and resolved to wait, knowing that it would take some time for them to actually get together.

But she kept in touch with Nick, sporadic though it was, and so she was aware that they were dating and had been for a few months. And she knew Sam: that was just about the exact amount of time he needed to realize that he didn’t really want to be with her and look to end things (she had observed this in the three women he’d dated before they became a couple). She also knew from Nick that his father had been out of town for several days for a medical conference and would be coming home tomorrow.

There would never be a better time — or opportunity.

So Linda arranged for a few days off work and flew to Chicago late that afternoon, then drove a rental to Middleton and sent it back with a driver (so Sam didn’t know she was there, because she needed every advantage she had and surprise was the biggest one right now) while she used the spare key he kept hidden under that stupid plastic frog to get in the house via the back door. She was already planning how she wanted things to go as she laid out her suitcase in the spare room and perused its contents with a thoughtful eye, debating between the Victoria’s Secret lingerie and the Adam & Eve set. She knew that Sam would be horny by now because there was no way that shy, quiet prude could satisfy him, assuming they’d actually gotten that far (which she really doubted), and felt her anticipation rise even higher at the thought; there was nothing in the world quite as good as being straight-up fucked by Sam Radford.

She had just decided to shower and thoroughly primp, preen, and pamper herself tonight so that tomorrow, all she had to do was arrange her hair and dab on some perfume, when the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut caught her attention and she frowned, moving on bare feet through the house until she reached the living room entrance.

And froze.

Sam was home.

Early.

And plastered to the front door, his arms wrapped tightly around the woman doing her best to climb him like a tree, kissing her so desperately that Linda’s mouth burned in sympathy while her lower body throbbed in remembered sensation. Sam was, among many other things, a fantastic kisser and when his passion was incited, well . . .

Linda watched in helpless envy, literally unable to pull herself away, as Sam finally wrenched his mouth free and let his head fall back, hitting the door with a dull thud and breathing heavily. His face was flushed with desire and his hands were possessively running over the other woman’s back and arms, but his eyes were warm and loving.

“Hi,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to hers and making Linda ache a little at the intimacy. She missed that.

“Talk later!” the woman gasped — and Linda stopped breathing.

Sam Radford — her Sam — was being seduced by that mouse Cassie Nightingale?!?!

She literally could not process that and was only able to stare, her jaw hanging open, as her rival for Sam's heart (and support and body) pushed her hands up under his shirt and worked it off, kissing him fiercely when he groaned in approval, only to suddenly shove himself away from the door so he could pivot them and pin Cassie between the wood and his body, her skirt flaring up and out from the force of his move. “Nick? Grace?” he panted, running his hands down her torso and catching the hem of her shirt as he kissed his way up her throat, the shirt rising as his mouth did.

“Out until tomorROW!” she squeaked, tugging his head away from her neck and biting his earlobe.

“Miss me?” he asked cheekily, turning to give her access to his other ear.

“Four days!” Cassie growled in response, yanking off her own shirt before fiercely kissing him again and wrapping one leg around his waist. He gasped in response and pushed against her, earning a broken cry of feminine pleasure that made Linda squeeze her thighs together in memory even as disbelief swelled up.

This couldn’t be happening.

It couldn’t.

But Sam was rutting up against her, that magnificent butt flexing rhythmically as he worked his hips and laughed darkly at the loud moan he got in return.

“It’s not my fault,” he moaned, dropping his head to her neck and doing something that made Cassie cry out again and had Linda biting her lip to keep her own cry contained. “But I am more — ah, yes! — more than happy t—Cassie! — make it up to YOU!!!”

Her jaw hanging open, Linda could only watch in wide-eyed disbelief as Cassie Nightingale dropped her hands from his shoulders to somewhere much lower and deliberately pushed Sam Radford past his limit. He snapped, shoving his jeans and underwear down one-handed while his free hand coaxed her other leg around his hip, tangling her skirt at her thighs, so he was holding her up against the door, and then he just . . . took her, with one hard thrust that had them both crying out in uninhibited pleasure.

Linda vaguely registered that her tongue was sore from her efforts to keep her reactions contained, but she was mesmerized by the sight of her (ex) husband, fucking another woman right in front of her with the unrestrained passion she knew so well . . . and a loving tenderness that she didn’t recognize at all. Not even when they first got together and everything had been wonderful and perfect and they’d been so happy. Sam had never touched her with the reverence and adoration she saw now.

Not once.

“God, I missed you,” he groaned, his hands tightening on her thighs where he was supporting her and giving her a short, sharp thrust that pulled an actual scream from her throat before she tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked his mouth to hers. They were groaning and gasping now, as Sam moved harder and faster in her while Cassie greedily touched every inch of him she could reach, somehow hitching her legs a little higher on his body and obviously tightening around him.

“Fuck, Cassie!” he gasped, bracing his hands against the door as he stopped moving, breathing hard and visibly shaking from the effort of staying still. “Do that again, you little minx, and this is over,” he growled before dropping his head and sinking his teeth into her neck. She whimpered in response, tilting her head back as far as she could and clutching his shoulders, digging her nails in and earning an appreciative moan from him as he arched into her touch.

Linda was trembling, both from raw arousal and bitter shock at the unbelievable thing she was witnessing. It should be her against that door, with Sam between her thighs and bringing her to those cataclysmic heights that he was so amazingly good at, her that he was gifting with his touch, his body.

His love.

“Did I say ‘stop’?” the other woman demanded, cupping his face in both hands and lunging forward. The startled yelp he gave told Linda she’d just bitten his lip and then he moaned, low and hot, before giving her a hard, brutal thrust that pulled a cry of agonized pleasure from Cassie, followed by a demanding, “Again!”

He gave her a dirty laugh and obeyed, his jeans slipping further down his hips as he fucked her hard and slow, each thrust tearing an unintelligible sound from Cassie.

“Your wish” — thrust — “is my” — thrust — “command,” he grunted, grinding against her and laughing again, dark and rough, when she moaned and clawed at his back, wordlessly begging him to take her harder, faster, now. Linda watched in jealous anguish as Sam, always eager to give his partner exactly what she wanted, obeyed and took a step forward. The shift in angle gave him more leverage and he took full advantage of it, slamming his palms against the door and swiveling his hips on each thrust. Cassie cried out and threw her head back, baring her throat to her lover and moaning when he darted his head forward to bite her, his hips stuttering a little at his change in focus before he pulled away, leaving her gasping a weak protest.

Even from the other side of the room, Linda could tell by the set of his shoulders that he now sported a smug smile, and remembered how irritating she had always found it.

She wasn’t irritated now.

Cassie tossed her head, trying to get her bangs out of her eyes, and tangled her fingers in his hair again, holding his head still and pressing her forehead to his, both of them breathing heavily.

“Stop again and I’ll turn you into a frog,” she threatened in a low, raspy voice. He chuckled in response, unintimidated, and kissed her, bending his knees and pulling almost all the way out.

Linda licked her lips, even as jealousy threatened to overwhelm her.

That should be her.

But it wasn’t, and she could only stare in furious envy as Sam thrust back in, hard and sure, and began to move in steady, smooth strokes.

“Love you!” he gasped as he took her, nuzzling her neck and dropping kisses where he could.

What?!

Love?!?!

How could it be love? He’d barely had long enough to find out her full name. How the hell could he be in love with this mousy wallflower?!

“Love you,” Cassie groaned back, seeking his lips and laughing softly when it took them a few tries to actually meet for a kiss. Then he dropped his right hand from the door and skimmed it down her body, and a second later Cassie choked out a broken scream that spiraled into a fragmented stream of moans, cries, and whimpers of his name.

Sam went still and simply waited, his head cocked at an inquisitive angle as he watched her come down.

Oh, and Linda knew that look: hot, intense, pleased, and self-satisfied.

It. Should. Be. HER.

“Wow,” Cassie finally murmured, brushing her fingers across the nape of his neck. “That was amazing, Sam.”

“I know,” he replied nonchalantly, gently pushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes. “But you’re amazing, so that just stands to reason.”

There was a beat of silence at this, and Linda found that she was slack-jawed from disbelief again.

Was — was Sam teasing his . . . lover?

He had never done that with her. Never.

“Now move, Sam Radford,” Cassie ordered him. “I want you to come for me, because you are mine and I love you. And you feel so good.”

“Yes!” he growled, taking her mouth in a ravenous kiss that had Cassie moaning and Linda biting her tongue until it bled.

Love.

And she could only watch with dawning, horrified understanding as Sam gave his lover everything she asked for, working himself to orgasm in just a few strokes and making the house echo with their cries of ecstasy.

Love.

When they collapsed in a tangle on the floor, Sam somehow managing to end up with his back to the door and Cassie cradled in his lap, the pair of them entwined in a heap of utterly sated dishevelment, Linda could only stare in stunned disbelief.

Love.

But when Sam nuzzled Cassie’s neck again before taking her lips in a kiss so tender that it actually hurt to see, Linda swallowed and finally found herself able to move. Slowly, agonizingly, she started to walk backwards, never taking her eyes off the couple cuddling in front of her.

“I love you,” Cassie whispered, cupping his cheek and staring at him with wide, intent eyes. “And I missed you so much. Please don’t leave like that again.”

“Not if I can help it,” he vowed fervently, kissing her once more before tucking her head under his chin and catching her left hand, drawing it to his lips.

And it was only then that Linda actually saw the engagement ring glittering in the bright light of the living room.

She had lost.

Sam wasn’t hers, he wasn’t going to be hers ever again, and she needed to leave NOW.

Shaking with anger, loss, and envy, Linda hurried as quietly as she could to the bedroom, throwing everything back in her suitcase and grabbing her shoes. She silently made her way to the back door, pausing only once when the sound of soft murmurs floated to her ears and then slipping out of the house and into the frigid evening air.

Love.

Well, they were welcome to it. Linda Wallace didn’t believe in regret, and this was no different.

It would be nice to have Sam back, but she was perfectly happy without him, and she didn’t regret this turn of events.

She was fine.

No regrets.

But she wouldn’t come to Middleton again.

She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

But she had no regrets.

She didn’t.

And then, as she made her way up the driveway, heading to the street so her ex-husband wouldn’t know that she had come all this way to seduce him back to her bed and her life, her phone chimed softly. When she looked down, her vision blurred by tears she refused to acknowledge, she saw a new text message and opened it by rote, not seeing who it was from until it was much too late.

Goodbye, Linda.

Her black rose-colored glasses shattered on the pavement beneath her bare feet as she was finally forced to face the stark, ugly truth that she had thrown away something that had never been hers . . . but could have been.

Should have been.

Would have been, if she had —

But she hadn’t. And now she never could.

For what might be the first time in her life, her choices came back to haunt her. Taunt her.

So instead of having Sam back in her bed and her life, Linda found herself wrapped in the icy embrace of regret.

She was staring out of the cracked rose-colored walls of a prison of her own making, finally forced to confront the truth of her own heart.

And Linda Wallace learned, too late, both the cost and the value of regret.

~~~

fin