He rose to his full height, once again, and swept me up in his arms. There are incredible advantages to being petite. Having a tall, sexy, man sweep you off your feet was definitely one of them. He carried me to the awaiting platform bed, where he laid me down gently. Climbing onto the bed, he slid between my legs, resting on his knees. His hands landed on my hips again, slipping my black, lacy undergarments away.
I lay before him, my pale skin contrasting against the black sheets and my dark hair fanned out around me. My fingers were running small, concentric circles around my navel, my eyes locked onto him as he drank me in. His eyes traced the length of my body, pausing from time to time, before continuing on his sightseeing adventure. He wasn’t touching me physically, but he was giving me a sensual shiver, nonetheless.
When his eyes finally met mine again, they were intense with hunger. He lowered himself down on top of me and, when our lips came together again, it was pure frenzy, intense and crushing. The weight of him above me again rushed forth nostalgic memories of the first time we’d been in this position and how perfectly we fit together. Recollections came on strong and I became manic in my need of him, but he hovered just on the brink of giving me what I desired.
He broke our kiss. There was a question waiting again in his eyes, the very same one that had lingered that night in my kitchen. He was, once again, trying to give me the opportunity to end this, but I looked up into the sea of tranquility and knew I only wanted to continue. I brought my hands to his face, kissed him, and lifted my hips as invitation.
After we allowed our bodies to get reacquainted, and get reacquainted they did, we clung to each other tightly. He relaxed on top of me, with his face buried in my neck. Our breathing was labored and I laid little kisses along his shoulder.
He carefully rolled off me and onto his back. I cozied up into the nook of his arm, resting my hand on his chest to feel the steady thrum of his heart. His hand gripped mine and his other arm pulled me in closer. We lay wrapped around each other for a long time without speaking. I watched my hand move with the rise and fall of his chest, before I leaned my head back to look upon him.
He looked deep in thought, staring up at the ceiling. I traced every line and curve of his perfect face. He released my hand momentarily, to brush hair away from his forehead. I wondered how someone as sexy as he was didn’t have an ego the size of the universe. He seemed so modest. I snuggled back into him and danced my fingertips across his chest.
“Hey Drake?”
“Hmm?” His voice drifted lazily down to me.
“Sorry about the wineglass.”
His laughter was immediate and he rolled onto his side, enveloping me into his arms again. As his laughter continued, I was set adrift on the melody and bass of it. I could almost feel it within myself as I curled up tighter into him. He bent his head to kiss me again, which quickly escalated until, an hour later, we were completely spent. We fell asleep, locked in each other’s embrace. I was happy and, for the first time in my entire life, felt as if I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Chapter 19
I woke the next morning with a huge grin on my face and rolled over to cuddle, only to have a serious case of déjà vu. I was in bed alone... again. I popped up on my elbow to have a look around the room, but Drake was nowhere to be seen and the apartment was silent as the grave. I slid out of bed to go find the man in question.
The only clothing I had to wear was the designer gown from the night before, which was still crumpled in a heap where it had fallen. Lying next to it was the button-down shirt Drake had worn. I eyed the two articles. It would be sexier, in my opinion, if I wore his shirt. However, it could also prove to be significantly more awkward if he was downstairs, intending to kick me to the curb. I gave it a few seconds thought but, in the end, my low self-esteem facilitated by past experience prevailed and I struggled to zip the dress back up.
I hooked my heels over my fingers and made my descent. The layout of his apartment was very open, so I spotted him in the kitchen, around the time my foot hit the fourth step. His back was to me and I wondered if I should just high tail it out, saving us both the embarrassment of him having to “dismiss” me. Something inside told me no. He bailed on me once without an explanation. If he wanted to do it again, he was going to do it to my face.
“Hi.” My voice came out weakly, nerves gripping my vocal cords as I came up behind him.
“Hey, good morning. I was just about to bring you... some... coffee.” The smile slipped from his face when he glanced at the shoes in my hand. “Are you leaving?”
What the hell was it about him that made me so unsure about where I stood? I really wanted to stay, but I also wanted him to want me to. Sure, he said some amazing things to me, but what if he’d just played me for a dummy again? Now I understood. This was why he wanted to take it slow. Clearly, there were some trust issues to be worked through, if I stayed... or not, if he told me to sod off.
“Do you want me to leave?” I cringed that those particular words were the ones choosing to flow out of my mouth. God, how desperate and pathetic could I sound? All the same, it put the ball in his court. If he wanted me to go, then I’d just have to put on my big-girl panties and deal.
The look on his face gave away nothing as he set a mug down on the counter. He took me by the shoulders. “I’d fancy if you never left again, actually.”
I was consumed with unbridled joy but masked it with sassiness. “Never again, huh? I’ll need to go home and shower.”
“I have a shower here.” His eyebrows shot up suggestively.
“Yes, you do, but I don’t have any other clothes here.”
A mischievous smile brightened his face again. “That’s all right. I’ll let ya run around naked.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
His hands ran down my bare arms and wrapped around my waist. “I’ll make a deal with you then. I’ll allow you to go home...”
“Oh, you’ll allow me, will ya?”
He ignored my jest and continued, “Do what you need to do, take a shower, pick up a few things, but then you have to come back and spend the rest of the weekend with me.”
“I’m not sure I can find my Rainbow Bright sleeping bag on such short notice, if you want to have a sleepover.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, since I wasn’t planning on us doing much sleeping.”
I totally set myself up for that one and could feel the blush all the way to my toes, but I tried to recover. “Isn’t there some kind of rule that a guy doesn’t call or hang out with a girl for three days after he’s slept with her?”
“Wow, you’ve dated some serious assholes in the past, haven’t you?”
That would be the understatement of the century.
He leaned down to kiss my neck, turning me to total putty in his hands. “Do we have a deal?” he breathed against my skin.
All I could manage was a mere murmur and slight nod of my head.
An hour and a half later, after some seriously inappropriate kitchen behavior and etiquette, I walked through my front door. I rushed through a shower and hurried to pack an overnight bag. I didn’t want to be away from Drake a moment longer than I had to be. Yes, I recognized the behavior as slightly unhealthy, bordering on co-dependent, but I was happy and it was all that really mattered. I can lie on a therapist’s couch to work the other stuff out, later.
I paused to text Portia a quick thank you, letting her know I’d be “unavailable” for the rest of the weekend. Tore worked late and I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d left the office the previous day. He wasn’t home, so it meant either he was already out and about, or he never came home from the previous night’s debauchery. In either case, I sent him a quick text as well, and then I was back out the door.
During the train ride back, I stared at the little slip of paper in my hands. Written in Drake’s surprisingly nice handwriting was the code to the elevator for his apartment. I felt weird tak
ing it at first, suggesting the doorman could just let me up, but he’d insisted. Talk about a turnaround. Only the day before he’d been trying to take it slow... today he gave me the equivalent of a key to his place.
Maybe I was making much ado about nothing and he handed the code out willy-nilly, but I wondered if, in the process of taking off the brakes, we were causing ourselves to go speeding out of control. Did it have to be all or nothing? He’d said he wanted this to be more than a rebound, but Devon had told me Katarina was Drake’s very long-term girlfriend. Just how long term was very long, anyway? Maybe I was going to be a rebound and Drake just didn’t know it yet. He hadn’t so much as uttered her name in the past five weeks which, believe me, I was grateful for, but the nature of their relationship did peak my curiosity.
The most likely case in this situation was my pessimism rearing its ugly head, looking for ways to poke holes in my bliss. For the first time, I chose to ignore it and let my happiness run rampant.
I had the code memorized by the time I took the elevator back up to his apartment. The doors slid open and I was greeted with blaring music. I smiled, because the particular song echoing through the place was one of my favorites. Jogging up the stairs, I tossed my bag on the bed and peeked my head into the master bathroom, where I found Drake.
He mustn’t have heard me come in, because he was singing along to the music, rather enthusiastically, I might add, as he rubbed the towel over his wet hair. His back was turned to me, and he wore only a pair of jeans. I stood in the doorway, listening to him rock out, until he turned around. There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment that he’d acquired an audience, as he continued to sing right along with no shame, pausing briefly to give me a kiss before pushing past into the bedroom.
I followed him into the room and flopped down on the bed. The chorus to Weezer’s El Scorcho was coming through loud and clear; the lyrics were about two people being good for one another. As I watched Drake pull on a grey t-shirt, I knew I couldn’t have agreed with the lyrics more, even if I’d written them myself. When the song ended, he turned the music down with a remote control before dropping down on the bed beside me. He rolled over onto his back, while I stayed on my stomach, but scooted closer and brushed the wet hair from his forehead.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
“I don’t know,” I said, flipping over onto my back. “You have any ideas?”
He lifted my hand and started fiddling with my fingers. “I do, but I don’t know if you’d be interested.”
There were times, this being one of them, when his confident façade would drop and I’d get a glimpse at his self-conscious side. The same side wanting to impress the girl, yet not come off looking like a tool. I loved it. It gave me a chance to see we had a lot more in common than just physical attraction and our mutual love of everything Joss Whedon. The veil would drop leaving me to consider perhaps he shared some of the same insecurities, that maybe I wasn’t neurotic after all. Well, not completely, anyway.
“What’s your idea?” I asked.
“I thought we could go to the art museum.”
“Sounds fun, let’s do it.”
“Yeah?” He seemed genuinely surprised.
“Yeah, c’mon.” I wasn’t putting him on, or trying to spare his feelings by being accommodating; it sounded like a great way to spend the afternoon.
I sat up, but he quickly yanked me back down, rolling on top of me and capturing my lips with a kiss. It took us a while to get out of the apartment after that.
...
As we wandered the museum, Drake was exuberant and enthusiastic but, from time to time, he’d get quiet and reflective. Since I’m green when it comes to art, he was my professor for the day; a role he really seemed to enjoy. He’d get a proud gleam in his eye when I’d start asking questions and, as the afternoon carried on, it occurred to me perhaps it had been a while since anyone cared or shown any type of attention to his interests.
Even though Katarina was a gallery owner, she struck me as someone who cared very little about the creative process and more about the dollar signs that accompanied it. In that respect, I felt sorry for her. Here she’d had this amazing artist, a man who was clearly knowledgeable in the field, and she took him completely for granted. Well, her loss was definitely my gain, which he further demonstrated as we were standing before a Van Gogh.
He explained to me about the brush strokes, the use of light, and the finer details. “When you stand back from it a bit, you can see what I mean.” I followed him as he took a few steps away. “Working on this particular piece, I think Van Gogh felt hungry.”
I snapped my head his direction “Hungry? How’d you sense that?” I tilted my ear to touch my shoulder and observed the painting in confusion. I know Mourning Inamorata was the only painting I’d ever had a “sense’ for, but I just couldn’t see how this particular work conveyed that the artist wanted a sandwich. I turned to express my uncertainty, but Drake was wearing a sly grin.
“I was just testing you, to see if you were still listening. I was worried you were bored.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been having a great time.” I popped up on my tiptoes and kissed him. In truth, we could have been standing in front of a bare concrete wall, as he described it in microscopic detail, and I would have had a great time. Mostly, I just loved listening to him talk. The fact we were discussing something he was passionate about, made it all the better.
He kissed me back and took my hand to lead us to the next exhibit, which was how we ended up spending the rest of the afternoon. We stayed until the place closed and, after our visit, I felt cultured, smarter, and, dare I say, a little worldly.
We took the train back to his apartment, where we spent the rest of the evening curled up on his bed watching television and talking. I told stories about my parents and brother, but carefully skated around the topic of death, not wanting to darken our day with absolute ugliness.
He shared memories of his sisters, four of them. While he obviously held deep affection for them and recanted many funny tales, the people who were noticeably absent from the stories were his parents. I figured it was no small oversight, but didn’t bring attention to it. He too, took a wide berth from anything that could swing back around to his death. I respected his privacy and didn’t push the issue, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t curious.
I fell asleep in his arms, sometime around eleven, with one of the late shows playing in the background. His bed felt more luxurious than mine did. I was not sure if it was the linens or the simple fact that I was lying next to him, but everything felt so perfect.
I wish I would have relished that feeling and enjoyed the purity of the moment longer, because my night was about to turn into a serious amount of suck.
Chapter 20
I woke screaming, unable to break myself free from the terror, which had a claw-like grip on my heart. Even though I was awake, I could see, feel, and hear the accident happening before me, around me, to me. Something wrapped around my arms. It was constricting, oddly soothing, and accompanied by a voice in the distance calling out to me, wanting me to respond. But I couldn’t do anything but scream, until my throat couldn’t anymore.
My surroundings were unfamiliar. I was confused as to where the hell I was but there was no one to ask. I was alone. It only seemed fair to be forsaken after what I’d done but, as I accepted my total isolation, the sound of running water rushed to my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, a pale yellow light shone through the black, but what difference did it make? I was broken. Nothing could save me now, so I ignored the light and continued to watch ahead into darkness.
A shadow appeared in front of me. It reached out and caressed my face. Something about its presence told me I was safe, as it attempted to pull me from the still hush surrounding my soul. Regardless, I was lost. I heard that voice calling to me from somewhere off in the distance again, but I couldn’t summon any words forth. Pain and agony had stolen them all away. The shadow
lifted my body, as though I weighed nothing, and carried me towards the pale yellow light. I wondered if it could hear the voice, too.
As it carried me over the amber threshold, like a broken bride, I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the luminescence. The brilliance was such a stark contrast to how I felt. I wanted it to go away, so the dark could envelope me once more.
The shadow set me down on my feet and moved away, but I didn’t want it to go. I reached out, on the verge of madness until the shadow returned. I could see through my lids the brightness dimmed. I heard a new voice telling me it was all right. Since words had abandoned me, I hoped my eyes could convey the message. When I opened them, the shadow was there, but he was surrounded by a golden aura that made him glow. I nearly wept at the ethereal rapture filling my soul from the vision. My shadow... he was beautiful. An angel come to save me.
He began to undress me and I didn’t try to stop him. I was captivated by his otherworldly presence, as he undressed as well. When we were both naked, he lifted me in his arms again. I wrapped mine around his neck, leaning my head on his shoulder.
Take me away, my angel. Take me away from all this pain. I shall go, without a fight, wherever you wish to go.
Warm water washed over my body.
Set me adrift. As long as he is with me, I shall not fear this. Better yet, let me drown in this water. Let me sink into its depths. Let my sins wash away and allow me to be reborn, in my angel’s arms, far from here.
Those arms were wrapped around my body. I leaned into him, feeling his warm skin against my own. My hands gripped the strong muscles of his forearms. I leaned my head against his chest, closed my eyes, and floated away on the rhythm of his breathing.
In, out, in, out.
He bent his head down, his lips brushing my ear, sending a shiver through my body, “Where did you go? Please, come back to me.”
Prayer for the Dead (Revenants in Purgatory) Page 15