A Forbidden Storm by J. Larsen Read Free Book Online Page B

His athletic form was fit for a magazine cover or a sculpture and she admired the strong lines of the muscles running up his v-shaped back.   He wore blue surfer shorts, loose in the leg but tight in the rear, and Jess bit her cheek, drawing blood, as she watched his behind under the fabric.   Martin looked back and spotted her watching his departure.   His cocky smile was both arousing and infuriating.
     
    Jessica came to a realization; Martin Timmons was the unattainable boy she’d admired in High School.   He was athletic, attractive, popular and charismatic.   He married a perfect girl, and had wealth, self-assurance and status.   Martin must have had a dozen unpopular girls pining for him during his teen years.   How many girls thought of him at night and wrote his name in in elaborate script in the back of their diaries?   Was she still that silly teen?   Had she not evolved past the point of ridiculous crushes on unattainable lovers?
     

     

 
    Ch8
     
    “Yes Jessica.   I’ll see a doctor as soon as we get home.   I don’t know what to tell you.   Can you fucking lay off?”   Joel was as furious as she had ever seen him.   She wanted to hold his hand, to tell him it would be alright and that she still loved him, but he wanted distance.
     
    “Okay, baby.   We’re not going to obsess about this.”   She touched his hand and slid in beside him on the sofa.   “Let’s just enjoy our time together.”
     
    “You’re crowding me.”   Joel’s glare was all anger.
     
    Jessica left him alone in the room.   She headed for the beach where she removed her sandals to feel the wet sand on her feet.   A few straggling beachgoers remained as the sun began to set.   Jessica found a chair and watched the red clouds turn to black in the western sky.
     
    She wanted to be back with her husband, to hold him, but he would have none of it.   Their bungalow had become depressing and devoid of oxygen.   Jess needed air to breathe and she needed to give Joel space.   She had told him a dozen times that he would be okay and that he would always be the man for her, but he only heard the fear behind her assurances.
     
    She sat at the bar, counting pretzels and reliving her week –trying to makes sense out of what had happened to her and Joel.   That first night, when he returned from fishing, he would have been tired.   There had been hours on a small boat, baking in the sun, and being beaten by the ocean.   It had been late by the time they went to bed. It was understandable.
     
    The next day, after dinner, Jessica had slipped into her sexiest outfit.   She crawled into her husband’s lap and began a slow seduction.   She hadn’t meant to cry when she found him unable to perform.   Was she piling undue pressure on him?   It’s just, Jessica thought, we’ve never had a problem before.
     
    She fingered the rim of the glass, drank, and then returned to her pretzels.   Where was she?   Forty?   Forty-one?   She bit into a pretzel and began counting from one.
     
    There had been three more attempts in the next three days.   Three nervous fumblings punctuated by fear more than romance or lust.    Each time she tried to coax some measure of firmness from him, applying all her feminine guile to the task.   The failures were humiliating for both husband and wife.
     
    Her biggest worry was that Joel’s problem portended a more serious health issue.   She spent the day trying to convince him to visit the hospital, but he refused.   Joel scowled and said he was fine.   Fine, except for that one thing, of course.   Her husband had retreated in shame to a secluded place –locked himself in a box without doors or windows, a ‘do not open’ sign nailed to the side.   Joel was embarrassed and frightened and Jessica couldn’t help him.   All she could do was drink.
     
    Jessica wondered if she was being punished.   Could God be revenging her for her dalliance with Martin Timmons?   But