Face the Music

by Salsbury, JB

  Ben’s back is straight, chin held high, not a bit of nervous hesitation as he addresses Kathy. “Of course. We’re done here.”

  I take that as my cue to go, and as I squeeze between them through the door, I hear Ben take a deep inhale as if he’s breathing me in. With a grin, I head out to happily greet his congregation.

  * * *

  In the years I’ve been attending Ben’s church and listening to him preach, I have never wished for the service to end as badly as I do today. What was Ben going to say? I want… What do you want, Ben?

  By the time he says the final prayer, I’m squirming in my seat, jumping out of my skin. Every time he said something even remotely sexual, I got the sense he was talking directly to me. Submit. Get on your knees. Obey. If I wasn’t condemned to hell before, my thoughts today bought me a one-way ticket.

  After the final amen, I stand on Jell-O legs. Ben’s shaking hands and talking to people, and in my experience, his after-service conversations could take some time. I make my way out when I hear him call my name.

  I turn around to see him jogging up the aisle with his Bible in hand.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “I was going to go get Elliot.”

  “Oh, okay. But… you’re uh…” He looks around to see who might be within earshot. “Stopping by?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Great, then I’ll walk to get Elliot with you.”

  I head out with Ben at my side, but I keep a healthy distance. People stop him to say hello, thank him for his sermon, tell him all the millions of struggles they’re dealing with, and Ben gives each a minute of his time with genuine concern. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the children’s building, and by that time, all the kids are gone except for Elliot. She sees us walk in and comes running over, then hugs me around the legs.

  “Hey, midget.” I run a hand through her soft hair.

  “Hey, how was Sunday school?” Ben asks her.

  She looks at us with those soulful brown eyes. “We learned about how God told Lot to take his wife and flea and leave the city, not to look back. But his wife looked back and turned to salt!” Her little brows pinch together, and she frowns. “But they never told us what happened to her flea.”

  Ben chuckles, and I stare at him.

  “What?” he asks.

  “What happened to her flea?” I ask.

  He clears his throat and wipes the humor from his expression. “The flea stuck close to Lot and they settled in the mountains, where the flea started a new family and lived happily ever after.”

  “Good.” Elliot grabs her dad’s hand. “I was hoping the little guy made it out of there okay.”

  We walk out of the building, Ben and Elliot ahead of me. I make sure I follow behind. Ben’s a celebrity on church property, and if I walk too close, people might get the wrong impression about us.

  We make it to the lot, and Ben walks me to my car but doesn’t stop or linger. He simply says in a hushed voice, “See you soon.”

  I don’t respond, just climb behind the wheel, close the door, and stare blindly ahead. “What the fuck is happening here? How is this my life?”

  I don’t have the answer, but I plan on finding out.

  Ben

  Oh, Maggie, what the hell have I done?

  Those are the first words through my head as I come home from church after inviting Ashleigh over. After our kiss on Friday, I was overwhelmed with guilt. The last woman my lips touched was Maggie. Seconds after her heart stopped beating, I pressed my lips to hers and promised her that kiss would be my last. And I kept that promise. For six measly years, I kept that promise without hesitation. Until Friday night.

  I had planned to apologize to Ashleigh this morning, to pull her aside and beg her forgiveness, swearing I would never cross that line again. But then I saw her. And she was defending herself against Kathy, defending my church, and when I caught her sparkling blue eyes, I knew there was no way I could not kiss her ever again. I knew I had to have one more taste. I could hardly focus throughout the sermon, feeling the heat of her gaze on my body like a physical touch. Every time I made eye contact with her during my preaching, I just about forgot what I was saying.

  I can no longer deny that there’s something between Ashleigh and me. No matter how unexpected or unwanted, it’s alive and breathing and drawing me closer and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to deny it.

  As I consider that, I stare at the cold eyes of my wife kept protected behind a glass frame. Once again, I’m washed in shame. How hard could it be to stay faithful to my wife, even in death?

  Til death do us part.

  Our vows run through my head, as they often do when I doubt myself. We agreed until death. So why can’t I stomach even the idea of moving on?

  There’s a knock on the door and Elliot races to answer it. Ashleigh comes in looking just as stunning as she did at church—that dress conjures images of what she’d look like wearing one of my shirts, all that blond hair falling over her shoulders, and those lips tilted up as she looks at me. Lips I’ve tasted. Lips I’ve dreamt of tasting again.

  Elliot pulls Ashleigh back to her room, and Ashleigh smiles at me as she’s dragged down the hallway.

  I can’t let these feelings continue. Can I? What would the church think if I started dating? And is Ashleigh the type of woman who would want to be coupled with someone like me? A married man—a widowed man. I hate the way that sounds.

  When I get to my room, I hear Elliot and Ashleigh talking about boy bands. I close the door and change out of my church clothes. In my closet, I give my back to Maggie’s clothes, because looking at them will only make me feel worse for where my thoughts are.

  There’s another woman in our house. With our daughter.

  What would she think if she knew?

  My stomach feels empty—or maybe that’s my chest.

  I slip on a worn T-shirt and a pair of jeans, skipping the shoes and belt. When I open my bedroom door to head out to the kitchen to make something for lunch, Ashleigh nearly runs into me in the hallway.

  I don’t know what she sees in my expression, but she frowns. Am I that transparent?

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I head down the hallway toward the kitchen, feeling her follow me.

  When she doesn’t answer, I turn around at the fridge, wondering if maybe I imagined she was behind me. She’s there, those full lips turned down.

  “You’re different.”

  “I changed my clothes—”

  “Not that,” she says, stepping closer to me in the kitchen. “You’re further away.”

  I know what she means. I feel it too. “I know. I’m sorry.” I lean my shoulder against the refrigerator. “I shouldn’t have asked you here.”

  “Ben, what is going on? Just talk to me. You’re sending out so many signals, I can’t keep up.”

  As if calling to me to give me the right words to say, the best possible way to ask Ashleigh to leave, my eyes are drawn to a photo of Maggie and me at the Grand Canyon. When I see Ashleigh turn to follow my gaze, I try to pull myself away, but I’m too late.

  She sucks on her lips for a few seconds then turns to me, her expression a little closed off—not that I blame her. “I get it. You don’t have to worry about me. I know exactly where you stand with Maggie, and like I said on Friday, I’m not a threat to what you two have.”

  Had. I want to correct her, because deep down, I know Jesiah is right. I’m no longer married, even if my heart screams that I am.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed for the kiss,” she says softly. “I took advantage of you. I’ve had that done to me enough times to know it’s not okay.”

  “Please—”

  “It’s no secret that I’ve had a crush on you—”

  “Don’t—”

  “And I had a moment of weakness and didn’t respect your boundaries.”

  “Ash, you have to quit talking. Because the more I hear you try to take responsib
ility for Friday night, the more it makes me want to kiss you.”

  “Oh.” She steps back. “I should go—”

  I snag her wrist and pull her to me. Her supple body falls willingly to my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, putting my nose to the top of her head and closing my eyes. I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m so sorry.

  But I can’t deny my arms for another second. I have to have Ashleigh against me.

  “Ben, what are you doing?” The tone in her question contradicts her arms as they slip around my waist.

  “I think…” I feel Maggie’s eyes on me. “I don’t have the strength to deny myself when it comes to you.”

  And that’s the truth. Over the last year, I’ve been telling myself that Ashleigh’s a nice girl—pretty, funny, refreshing—yet I’ve refused my feelings by reminding myself I’m a married man.

  I’m not.

  Not anymore.

  “What exactly are you saying?” The warmth of her cheek pressed against my thin T-shirt heats my skin.

  “I’m not sure, but I think I’m saying I’d like to see more of you, preferably without Elliot around.”

  “I get the feeling by ‘more of me,’ you’re not implying I should get undressed,” she says with humor in voice.

  I don’t laugh. Or smile. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to get the image of a naked Ashleigh out of my head. “No.” But a guy can dream. “More like a date.”

  She pulls away, my arms and torso missing the heat of her, the scent of her, even though she’s just inches away. “You want to take me out?”

  “I do. Yes.”

  “When?”

  “This week. How about tomorrow?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem to get someone to cover my shift, sure.” Her smile takes over her face. “What time do you want me to be here?”

  “Here?” I shake my head. “A date, Ash. I’ll pick you up.”

  She seems surprised. “Are you shitting me?”

  I chuckle. “This surprises you?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been out on a date where a guy picks me up at my house.”

  My laughter dies, and I frown.

  “If a guy asks me out on a date, I’m one-hundred percent sure what he’s after, so I don’t say yes unless I’m after the same thing. And in that case, I want my own car so I can leave afterward.”

  I recoil, my stomach flipping. “That’s… informational, but I don’t really need to hear about your ex-boyfriends.”

  Her eyes slowly widen. “You’re jealous.” She smirks and shakes her head. “You are exactly who I thought you’d be, Ben Langley.”

  “That’s not good. Surprises are fun.”

  “I’ve got you figured out. No surprises for me.”

  I tilt my head, study her sweet face and sexy-as-sin lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something that surprises you.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  We stare at each other for a few silent seconds before she blinks and sucks in a breath. “I’m going to go ahead and take off. Will you tell Elliot I said goodbye?”

  “You just got here.”

  She yawns. “I know, but I haven’t slept since yesterday morning and if I don’t go, I’ll fall asleep on your couch.”

  I feel the heat of Maggie’s stare from her photo over the kitchen sink as I think about how much I’d enjoy watching Ashleigh sleep on my couch. I’d enjoy even more to be lying behind her, her back to my front, my arm over her waist, and my nose buried in all that soft hair.

  “Ben?”

  My eyes snap to hers. “Yeah. I’ll walk you out.”

  For the first time, I curse my tiny house as the walk from the kitchen is too short. When I open the door to let Ashleigh out, I’m not ready to see her go. Instead of letting her out, I close the door and turn my back against it.

  “Wait.” Courage, Ben. “Before you go.”

  I hook her around her tiny waist and pull her close. My feet slightly apart, she steps between my legs, pressing the front of her body against mine. I softly groan at how well she fits against me, her softness to my hard, her feminine curves to my rough edges. I do what I’ve been thinking about doing all day and slip my fingers into her hair, cupping her jaw and marveling at how big my hand is against her delicate face. How dark my skin is against her pale cheek.

  Is this too much too soon? Am I not holding back enough? Though even allowing this small concession feels as if I’m still chained to my morals. All my questions are erased when she grips my T-shirt in her fists and presses herself deeper into me, so deep my dick digs into her flat belly.

  I bite my lower lip to keep from biting hers. I’ve never felt this out of control, this animalistic, this feral. She shifts from one foot to the other, then back, rubbing against me, and I feel myself hardening between us. The corner of her mouth ticks up as if to say she’s fully aware of my growing need and thanks me for it.

  “Are you going to kiss me goodbye?” she says, her voice taking on a roughness I imagine gets intensified during sex.

  “If you’ll let me.”

  “Let you?” She pants through parted lips, shifting and rubbing again. “If you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to explode.”

  I love how open she is, how clear she is about what she wants. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

  I lean down and bring my mouth to hers. Unlike our first kiss that started off slow and exploratory, with this one, there is no preamble. Our lips part at contact and our tongues slide together in a slow, erotic dance that has my pulse jackhammering. Her mouth tastes like sweet peppermint, her lips the softest pillows against mine. Her teeth rake against my lower lip and her breath fans against my chin.

  “You taste so good,” I whisper before going back in and deepening the kiss.

  Both my hands are in her hair. She sucks my tongue and swallows my answering moan. My grip on her hair tightens, and I pull her head back. She gasps. I run my lips along her jawline to her neck.

  “We have to stop.” I’m breathing so hard, my pulse is racing, if I don’t get myself under control now, I fear I’ll never stop.

  “I know.”

  I pinch my eyes closed, hating that she agrees, but knowing if she didn’t, I would take things too far. She steps away, forcing me to release my hold on her hair. Drunk on her lips, my head falls heavily back to the door. Her lips are swollen, her hair a little tangled from my hands, and the satisfied look on her face makes me smile.

  “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you.” Not a question.

  She has one hand casually anchored at her hip. “If you’re lucky.” She nods toward the door handle. “You want to let me out?”

  No. I don’t want to. What I want is to take her back to my room, strip her naked, and explore every inch of her skin. I want to find the spots she likes to be kissed, the ones that tickle, the ones that make her moan. I want to sink inside her body and—

  She’s not your wife.

  The air leaves my lungs in a rush of lost fantasies and harsh reality. I grip the doorknob, twist, and step away to let her out.

  “Go on,” I say as she passes by me to the porch. “Get some sleep.”

  She stops mid-step and looks at me over her shoulder. “Are you bossing me around?” The way she asks with that wicked grin makes me think she’d like it if I were.

  I lean a shoulder on the doorframe, feeling the tightness in the front of my jeans and my blood slowly returning to my brain. “Go. Before I change my mind.”

  She laughs. The sound is a warm, husky embrace. “See you tomorrow.”

  I don’t go back inside until she’s pulled out of the driveway and is out of sight. With her absence comes a brutal awareness. I stare at my feet standing on the threshold I carried my wife over the night we got married. Our first night in this house, our first night in our bed, the first night we made love. And now I stand here on this sacred spot, lust pumping furiously through my body for another woman.

  Why is it that when Ashleigh’s arou
nd, everything about how I feel makes sense, and the second she leaves, I can’t make order out of any of it?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ashleigh

  “Why are you in time-out?”

  I pull my eyes away from the photo in the corner of Ben’s dining room, the one of him and Maggie on some tropical beach, wedding rings on their fingers. I’m assuming they were on their honeymoon. Elliot’s staring at me with a plastic dinosaur in one hand and a brunette Barbie in the other.

  “I’m not in time-out. I was looking at this picture of your mom and dad.”

  She glances at the photo then looks at me. “Want to play dinosaur stables?”

  “Yes, I do.” I hold out my hand. “Am I the dino or the stable girl?”

  She hands me the dino.

  “You know, Elliot, you look so much like your mom. She’s lovely.”

  She shrugs. “I set everything up in my room.”

  Clearly, Elliot doesn’t like to talk about her mom—either that or she’s so used to being told she looks like her mom that she’s over it.

  We settle cross-legged on the carpet in her room, where she has a section of floor fenced off with a handful of plastic dinosaurs inside the fence. I place my guy inside with his friends.

  “No, he’s a meat-eater, so he has to stay in the barn or he’ll eat all the other dinosaurs.”

  “Can’t we just tell him he can’t eat his friends?” I hold up the big plastic lizard and put him in her face. “I’m going to be lonely in the barn,” I say with a dinosaur-like voice. “I want to stay out here with my family.”

  She smiles a little but shakes her head. “He can’t talk.”

  “Oh. But you know, since this is make-believe, we could pretend he could talk?”

  She looks at me with confusion.

  “Like in the cartoons.”

  “I guess so,” she says, drawing out the second word. “But he still has to live in the barn.”