Words Unwritten Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Other Books By Harmony Raines

  Words Unwritten

  ***

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written consent of the author or publisher.

  This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. All characters within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.

  © 2013 Harmony Raines

  Silver Moon Erotica

  Kindle Edition

  Chapter One

  Frank unfolded the letter and read it again. He traced every curve of her elegant handwriting with his eyes, although it was already firmly etched in his brain. It was the only letter he had ever received from Charlotte since he had gone away to the army.

  He had left his home town behind five years ago, unable to bring himself to return there, until now. The letter was quite direct and to the point, it told him briefly all he needed to know, his best friend, Roger, had died in a car crash.

  When he received the letter the news hit him hard, now he had started to come to terms with it. He carried some guilt over not coming to the funeral, but it had been impossible because at the time he was serving in Afghanistan. The three months that had passed since then had given him the time he needed, now he needed the closure today would bring him.

  Looking out of the window he watched the once familiar sights pass him by. There were some changes; the old steel works was now a shopping mall and the park where he had climbed trees and played hide and seek with Roger had a new playground. Yet the feel of the place was the same, small town claustrophobia.

  Frank on the other hand had forced himself to change, to block out his emotions. It had been the only way he had been able to cope with Roger marrying the one girl he ever loved, Charlotte.

  The bus stopped at the station, which had also received a new lick of paint. Getting off he thanked the driver, and headed for the cemetery, planning on visiting Roger's grave before he did anything else. He hadn't bought flowers or any of that other sentimental rubbish, it simply was not his way. Roger would have to make do with a silent prayer, and an apology for never coming back to see him. Frank guessed that, wherever Roger was now, he would understand the reasons.

  Pulling the cap down over his eyes he hoped to get there before anyone recognised him. He was not in the mood for reunions. In fact there were only two things he planned on doing while he was here, visiting his best friend's grave and paying his respects to his widow.

  The cemetery was on the outskirts of town, he walked steadily, and the stiffness in his legs from being sat so long on the bus slowly passed. The sun came out and warmed his bones, not in the same way the intense heat of the desert had done, this was more relaxing, soothing his mood.

  In some ways, despite his army career, this was going to be one of the toughest days he had ever faced. He just hoped he would be able to speak to Charlotte briefly, and thank her for her letter, without giving himself away or upsetting her, he had done enough damage in that department already.

  He entered the cool shade of the cemetery, and began to look for Frank's grave stone. He was in no particular hurry and paused often to read the inscriptions, taking a mental note of those whom he had known in his previous life here, who had now passed.

  Previous life. That was how Frank thought of the boy who had lived, and grown up, here. It was not the same man that now returned. This man was tougher, wiser and certainly more mature. Gone was the boy who made a pass at his best friend's girlfriend, that had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

  He was glad she had kept his secret; his self inflicted punishment was to never return, to not be a wedge between his best friend and the girl they both loved. Charlotte had made her decision, she had rebuffed his advances, making it clear she thought he was a jerk, and married Roger instead.

  He found the grave, only now, seeing the name etched into stone, did it suddenly become real, truth. Frank was dead, and now he had to face his widow, to see her just once before never coming back to this place again. He had no ties here, his family had moved away shortly after he had joined the army, they lived in the city, work was easier to find there.

  Standing with his head bowed he said a prayer for Frank, although he was not a religious person. However it felt right, he also muttered his apology, something he had never had the guts to do when Frank was alive.

  Standing for a long while, lost in thought to all the good times they had shared as kids, Frank finally came to terms with Roger's death. It was real, as real as any other death he had seen, and he had seen his fair share over the years. He said goodbye, and turned away from the grave, he had no tears to cry, he wasn’t that kind of guy. Being sentimental was a luxury he had never allowed himself. It helped you to cope with the worst life threw at you.

  He left the lonely graves behind and headed along the road that ran around the outskirts of town, glad to have the long walk in which to prepare for his meeting with Charlotte. He had no idea how she would treat him, whether she would simply slap his face and tell him to get lost.

  After he had made a pass at her, Roger had made suggestions that Charlotte said she despised Frank. Understandable due to his behaviour towards her, but up until that point he always thought she had a crush on him.

  It was in the way she looked at him when she thought no one else could see. A longing in the way she sighed when he was close. He still couldn’t work out how he had got it so wrong. But today was the last chance he would have to make amends, or at least make peace with Roger's widow.

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte dug her trowel into the hard ground, trying to prise out the weeds that persisted in growing in the heavy soil. Nothing else grew well in the garden, it seemed to be barren, a reflection of the rest of her life. Nothing good came of anything.

  Sweat dripped from her face, she was too hot, but too determined to clear the garden to go inside. Perhaps she was punishing herself for all the ways she had failed herself and other people throughout her life. Most of the time she hid them deep in the recesses of her mind, but today they wouldn’t stay away. Every time she let her concentration slip they found a way out, and before she knew it she was obsessing over the ruins of her life.

  “Charlotte?”

  She jumped, looking around to where the voice had come from, the sun in her eyes making it hard to see. The voice wasn’t one she recalled, or at least it wasn’t a familiar one. Oh great it would be someone else come to give her their condolences and probably offer her a pie to eat. She knew it was only people being kind, but she felt like such a fraud. It was hard to graciously accept such an outpouring of good will when you were actually glad you were a widow.

  There she went again, hell would definitely be reserving a place for her and her selfish thoughts.

  Rising she put her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she saw the toned, well muscled body of a man she did not know. A shiver passed through her, perhaps she was going to get her just deserts, murdered by a stranger on her front lawn. Or perhaps it was one of Roger's old drinking buddies. That thought made her stand up; could she get to the house in time to lock the door?

  “I’m sorry, I should have removed my cap, of course you wouldn’t recognise me.” The figure before her reached up and pulled the cap of his head.

&nbs
p; Charlotte's world swam before her; it must be the heat, what other reason was there for her to faint? Strong arms caught her before she hit the floor, they picked her up and cradled her against a well muscled chest. Hanging onto the last tendrils of reality she stopped herself blacking out completely. Then she was inside, the cooler air soothed her, and the dimmer light eased her head which was pounding.

  She knew she should protest, push him away, but she did not have the strength, her mind and body were in a state of confusion. Neither of them capable of reacting rationally.

  She was placed on the low sofa, then her rescuer moved away and she heard the sound of the fridge opening and water being poured. Then he was back by her side.

  “Here, drink this, it will help.” He pushed a cool glass into her hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, if you don’t want me here say the word and I’ll leave, you'll never see me again, I swear.”

  His words made her feel faint again, the thought of never seeing Frank again felt like a dagger through her shrivelled heart. It didn’t matter that he had only come to see Roger's grave, in her heart she could imagine he had come to see her. Oh, yes, she was definitely going to rot in hell for all the unfaithful thoughts she had had about Frank, her husband’ supposed best friend. But Frank was safe; he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to. He had proved that all those years ago.

  Reaching out her free hand she put it on his. “No, please stay. It was the heat in the garden, I should have come in but I wanted to clear it, you know me, never did do what was best.” Her words hit the dagger wedged in her heart a little deeper. Frank was one thing on her list that would have done her good, she knew that, but she had let him slip by, blinded by her guilt at emotionally betraying Roger.

  She sipped the cool water, feeling better within minutes, while he stood watching her, concern etched on his face. He was so tense, and she knew that one word from her and he would leave. Slowly she drank the whole glass of water, taking her time to give herself some breathing space, a chance to gather her thoughts and put up the emotional wall she had let slip since the death of her husband.

  “Please, sit,” she said indicating the chair opposite. Swinging her legs off the side of the sofa she tested them to see if they could be trusted to take her weight. When she was certain they could be she stood up. “Can I get you anything? You've come a long way, you must be thirsty.”

  “Something cold would be great, if you’re sure I’m not intruding. I only wanted to come by and see if there was anything you needed.”

  She went to the fridge and got a cold soda out for him, then got a glass and set them both down in front of him, not daring to get close enough to actually touch him.

  “Thank you.” He poured the soda out and took a long drink.

  Charlotte tried not to stare, but she wanted to take in every part of him, it would have to last her for a long time. So she watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, when he moved the glass away from his mouth she watched, mesmerised, when he licked his full lips.

  He had matured, his face stronger, tanned from his time in the desert. Yet when he looked at her with those beautiful eyes her insides turned to liquid, and something she had never expected to feel again bubbled inside her.

  He was the same boy sat there, the boy who had made her heart pound ridiculously, and the boy who had made a pass at her for fun.

  ***

  It was still such a clear memory, Roger had drunk too much, a habit that unfortunately got worse, and Frank helped her get him home. They got him to his bed without his parents finding out the state he was in, and then Frank offered to walk her home. She had accepted, partly because she lived over the other side of town, and partly because she had a crush on Frank that got worse the more she saw him.

  Frank on the other hand always played it cool with her, almost to the point that he ignored her if at all possible. He preferred girls to be pretty and athletic, not her curves which had developed early. That was why she allowed him to walk her home; he had no interest in her in a romantic way at all. He was safe.

  That changed when they reached the wooded copse five minutes away from her home. It was secluded, a place she hated walking through alone at night, so having Frank there made her feel safe. They were talking about him joining the army; now he had been accepted, he was going for basic training in two months time.

  Charlotte felt her heart lurch at the thought of him going away for any length of time. And she hadn't been able to stop herself from asking, “Is there nothing about this place you'll miss?”

  He stopped, and looked at her, a question in his eyes. “Not much,” he had answered.

  She held his gaze, unsure of what she was supposed to do, keep walking or allow herself one lingering moment to etch his face into her memory for ever. With no warning he closed the space between them and kissed her, a fierce kiss.

  It was nothing like she had ever experienced before, or since. It took some time before her senses told her she should not have been kissing him back, she was Roger's girlfriend, and even if she would prefer to be Frank's she could not be a two timer, it was wrong.

  “Frank, please.” She pushed him back; he struggled to hold onto her, his hand cupping her breast and taking her breath away. Her arms went about him, she held him close, he claimed her mouth again, a crushing kiss. His tongue pushed into her mouth, claiming her for his own.

  Again she felt the doubt and shame of this, it was wrong, she had to explain it to him.

  “Frank, I can’t. What about Roger?”

  It had the same effect as a bucket of cold water over his head. “Roger. Of course, you love him. I’m sorry. I only wanted to know...”

  “Wanted to know what?”

  “What it would be like to kiss you?”

  Her anger bubbled over; she was an experiment to him. “What kind of person are you?”

  He looked shocked at her anger. “Charlotte, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would mind.”

  “Mind? What did you want to know, what it’s like to kiss the chubby girl, or what it’s like to kiss your best friends girlfriend?”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “Goodbye, Frank.” She had stormed off and never seen Frank until this day. He had left early for the army, managing to avoid her for the remaining days he had been in town. He had never come back, and Roger never found out.

  ***

  He placed his empty glass on the table. “I needed that, thank you. It’s sure hot out there.” He paused, and then decided he hadn't come to make small talk. “I only came by to check you were OK. If there's anything I can do, name it.”

  “No, there's nothing I need,” she answered, while inside her body screamed, “Except to be in your arms again.”

  To cover the flush that came to her cheeks she picked the glass up and took it to the sink, swilling it under the tap. He got up and followed her into the kitchen, standing on the other side of the worn table. The flush from her face swept through her, and her body became aware of itself for the first time in years.

  She wished she were a couple of dress sizes smaller, that she was more his type, perhaps then he would look at her in the way she wanted him to look. Instead she knew when she turned and faced him he would be looking at her with pity, like everyone else did. Pity the poor young widow who lost her husband after so brief a time, if only they knew the truth.

  An awkward silence settled over them, there was nothing more to be said, but so much that needed to be said.

  “Well, I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Roger was a good man, you must miss him terribly,” Frank said, turning to go.

  “Why did you never come back?” It sounded accusing, but it was the only thing she could think of to say to stop him leaving.

  He turned back towards her. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “It matters to me.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Please, Charlotte, it’
s the past.”

  “Was it because you didn’t think I was good enough for Roger, after that night?” She wanted to know, even if it would push that dagger all the way in.

  “Good enough? Why would you think that? Surely you know how I feel about you?”

  “Yeah,” she said clasping her arms together across her chest as though it was armour. “Frank told me one night.” She sounded wounded and bitter.

  “Told you what, exactly?” Frank asked guardedly.

  “That you thought he could do better than a chubby girl who works retail. I think those were his exact words, he was drunk at the time.” Frank stood and stared at her, he seemed unable to speak, unable to deny it. “I guess by the look on your face he wasn’t lying for once.”

  Frank came towards her, fast; he caught her up in his arms and kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him to her, clinging on as though he was the only thing left that was real in this world. Despite every horrible thing that had happened to her she wanted this man.

  His hand swept the magazine she had been reading off the table and picked her up, setting her down on it and spreading her thighs apart. His hand slid down the small of her back and drew her closer to him; she could feel his hardness pressed against her.

  Fisting her hair he drew it back from her face and kissed her cheek, slowly moving down her neck leaving a heated trail. When he reached the collar of her shirt he began to undo them with fingers that seemed to tremble. Charlotte felt powerless to stop him; she wanted him more than anything in her whole life. Even if it meant her becoming some notch on his bedpost.

  Watching each button open to reveal her voluptuous chest she wished she had put on some decent lingerie instead of the faded pink bra she wore. Not that Frank paused to notice; as soon as her shirt was off her shoulders his hands slid behind her and unclasped it.

  Her nipples were already hardening into stiff peaks by the time his mouth closed over the first one. She gasped and pressed herself closer to him, her clit throbbing against the length of his cock through the barrier of their clothes.