But of course I did. I followed him down the hall to his room, to that familiar bed with the quilt our grandmother had made for him. I stood in the pool of light from the bedside lamp while he slowly undressed me, being careful not to touch my bare skin as each item of clothing fell away. But his eyes caressed every inch of me as they darkened with desire, and my skin felt the whisper of his breath on my legs as he pulled my panties down. I ached for his touch.
“My God, but you are beautiful,” he said, shaking his head and backing away when I reached for him. He quickly shed his clothing, and it was my turn to admire his perfect body, with his sex rising up from a nest of dark curls.
I took a step toward him, needing to touch him, but he shook his head again. What sort of game is this? I wondered.
“Look at me,” he said.
“I am.”
“What do you see? Tell me what you see.”
“I see a man.”
“That’s it? Just a man?”
“No. Not just any man. I see a beautiful man.”
“The world is full of beautiful men, Elise. Surely you can narrow it down a bit more. What else do you see?”
“You. I see you. A special man.”
“What makes me special? Tell me.”
I hesitated, not sure what he wanted me to say.
“I’m not fishing for compliments,” he said. “I’m familiar with my attributes. Just tell me what you see. Why am I so special? Be honest.”
I closed my eyes and opened them in sudden understanding. “When I look at you, I see the man I love. That’s what makes you special.”
When he smiled, I knew I’d passed the test. He crossed the space between us and pulled me against his body, and I felt the strong beating of his heart.
“Was that the truth?” he asked. “Did you mean it?”
I nodded. “Yes. I meant it.”
“Good. Because if you’d said one word about seeing me as a cousin, or—God forbid—your brother, I would’ve put my clothes back on and walked out that door. I refuse to be thought of in that way by you. I refuse to let some damn test destroy what we have. When I look at you, I see the woman I love. Nothing else. Nothing secret or forbidden. But I needed to know you felt the same way.”
In that moment, I knew I had doomed myself. By passing his test, I had failed my own. All the rational arguments I’d rehearsed through sleepless nights were ground to dust by my own declaration of love for this man. All the laws, protests and arguments were futile weapons against the power of our passion. If loving each other was a sin, then so be it. Far greater sins were committed every day.
He took me to his bed and I lay down on the soft quilt, but he did not join me. Instead, he pulled three silky blue scarves from his dresser. My heart beat faster as I recalled Ben’s fondness for bondage and other forms of S&M. I’d enjoyed some of it, but not when he crossed the line from stimulation to deliberate pain. I never thought that Trey . . .
He sat on the bed with the scarves in his hands and saw the apprehension in my eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “Trust me not to hurt you?”
I nodded. I did trust him, and those were just scarves in his hands, not the handcuffs Ben preferred.
“Lie back,” he said. “Just lie back and enjoy this.”
I knew what to do. I raised my arms and he bound my wrists, securing them to posts in the open-frame headboard before tying the third scarf around my eyes.
He lay beside me, perfectly still, but I could somehow sense his gaze skimming over every inch of my body as I yearned for his touch. “Trey . . .”
“Hush, love. Just let me look.”
Minutes passed. At least it seemed like minutes while I waited, hoping for something . . .
I felt the lightest, feathery touch on my lips and realized it really was a feather, moving from my lips to my ears and dipping into the hollow of my neck before swirling around each breast in exquisite circles of delight until my nipples hardened into sensitive peaks.
It didn’t tickle; he used just enough pressure to transform the sensation into something totally unique. Totally erotic. I gasped when it traveled lower, pausing briefly at my navel before moving softly down my belly to the curls of my mound, where it paused.
“Open for me,” Trey urged. “Spread your legs.”
As I obeyed, the feather caressed my inner thighs from my mound to my knees, back and forth in delicate strokes but never coming close to the center of my need. I raised my hips, hoping it would settle in that moist and craving place, but I felt nothing.
“Trey,” I gasped. “Where is it? Where did it go?”
“It’s gone, Elise. It blew away.”
“But . . .”
He touched me then, slowly retracing the feather’s entire path with his lips and tongue and fingers until I felt his warm breath on my vulva. I strained at my bonds, desperate with the need to touch him—to push his head down so I could feel his mouth on me and his tongue inside me. But the scarves were tight against my wrists and I couldn’t see . . . couldn’t feel . . .
I raised my hips, opening wider, struggling for any contact that would release me from this torment. “Please,” I begged. “Please touch me.”
He did. He pressed his hands against my inner thighs and I opened for him like a flower as his tongue licked the velvety petals of my folds, gently pushing them aside to briefly penetrate the slick warmth of my vagina before he withdrew and left the bed.
I gasped, panting, desperate for release. “Trey!” I felt and heard nothing—not the slightest sound beyond my own labored breaths. Had he left me alone like this? “Trey! Where are you?”
“Right here, love,” he whispered, quickly freeing both wrists before removing the scarf from my eyes. “Are you ready? Should we finish this?”
“God, yes!” I cried. He joined me and filled me and I wrapped my arms and my legs and my love around him until we reached the crest and tumbled over the edge in blissful unison. Together, I thought. Perfectly together. Two halves made whole, just like this.
“Don’t leave me,” I said when he started to pull out. “Not yet.” So he pulled me on top and we lay like that for a while, not saying anything. I even dozed for a while, until I felt him stir deep inside of me, coming alive and wanting more.
I rose up and looked at him. His eyes were closed, but he smiled when I began to move my hips. I knew how to please a man, because Ben had taught me well. But this was Trey, so I discarded the S&M techniques—the rough sex and pain—and pleasured him thoroughly with my body and my love until he cried out, pulling me with him into mindless ecstasy.
Chapter 18
W e snuggled under the quilt and slept for a while, lulled by the rain and our mutual satisfaction. When I woke up, it was almost dark and still raining hard.
I rolled over and looked at Trey, whose eyes were closed. “Are you awake?” I whispered.
His lips twitched. “No.”
“Okay, then,” I teased, starting to get up, but he pulled me back down and wrapped me in his arms. “Seriously?” I asked, feeling his penis stir against my thigh.
He grinned. “No. Let’s save it for later. Right now I’m starving for food. How about Track Town Pizza?”
“Now? In the rain?”
He laughed. “Since when does rain stop a duck?”
We got dressed and drove over to Track Town, Eugene’s popular pizza restaurant right across from Matthew Knight Arena. The place was always packed with students, and this Friday night was no exception. We stood in line to order a large Track & Field Combo, grabbed two beers and found a small table in the rear of the crowded dining room.
We were not alone for long. As a well-known track star, Trey was frequently approached for autographs and pictures, although his fame didn’t generate the frenzy of Quinn’s adoring NFL fans. So there we were, eating pizza while people came up to chat with their favorite runner. I decided to relax and enjoy it, knowing I’d have him all to myself later.
Our
pizza was nearly gone when I happened to glance past the crowd around us as a loud group of new arrivals drew my attention. One man stood out among the others—tall, with red-gold hair and a booming laugh that rose above the din to strike me with full force. Ben. He was obviously drunk. And my restraining order had expired in January.
I grabbed Trey’s arm, surprising him. “Let’s go,” I said. “Now.”
“Why?”
“Ben. He’s here.”
Trey looked up, and that’s when Ben spotted us. Grinning, he weaved through the crowd, pushing his way toward us. Trey rose to confront him, shielding me with his body. I just sat there, frozen with fear and revulsion, as heads turned to watch.
Ben reached our table, leaning against it to steady himself. He looked at me with that familiar smirk on his handsome face, his nostrils flaring as he assessed me. Ben knew me intimately, and he recognized the signs of sexual satisfaction.
“So,” he loudly announced, “my ex is screwing her cousin! They say incest is best, but he can’t be a better fucker than me. You ever want the best, baby, just give me a call. My dick is ready for your hot little pussy anytime.”
Trey moved suddenly, pulling me to my feet with such force that my chair toppled and the table rocked. Ben lost his precarious balance, yelling obscenities as he lurched against another table.
I saw the fury in Trey’s face and knew he was primed for a fight. “Move, Elise!” he hissed, dropping my arm. “Get behind me!”
“No!” I stepped in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t shove me aside. “Please don’t do this!” Trey grabbed my shoulders and I felt the power of his rage, certain he would push me away. Ben roared with mocking laughter.
“No!” I begged. “He’s not worth it, Trey. Please!” The room fell silent in eager anticipation of violence, waiting . . .
Trey slowly loosened his grip on my shoulders and I reached for his arm. “Let’s go,” I urged, pulling him toward the door through the staring crowd.
Ben hooted in derision. “You gonna run, Larson? Run from a fight? Guess that’s what you’re best at, right? The famous running man! Shit—I don’t know what she sees in you. Bet you can’t stay hard for five minutes, and she likes to fuck all night long . . .”
His jeers followed us through the door but were quickly drowned by the pouring rain. We ran to Trey’s car and crawled inside, thoroughly soaked. Exploding in anger and frustration, Trey hit the steering wheel until I feared it would break.
“Damn it!” he swore over and over. “God damn it! I wanted to fight him, Elise. I could kill him for what he’s done to you.”
“Shhh,” I soothed, pulling his hand from the steering wheel. “He’s done no permanent damage to me. But you’ll go to prison if you kill him, and I couldn’t bear to have you suffer the way Johnny did.”
His hands were shaking as he slowly came down from the adrenaline rush. I told him to take long, deep breaths to lower his heart rate and blood pressure, all the while praying that Ben wouldn’t follow us outside, because Trey would be unstoppable then.
Larson males are fighters; it’s in their blood. Johnny, CJ and Quinn—especially Quinn, who would have demolished Ben and damned the consequences. Trey usually managed to control that part of his nature, but if I’d failed to stop him tonight . . . I shuddered.
“Do you want me to drive?” I asked, shivering in my wet clothes.
“No. I’ll drive. Let’s get out of here.”
Like the previous Friday, we dropped our wet clothes on the floor of the entryway and warmed up in the shower. The encounter with Ben had drained us emotionally and physically, but we were too wound up to sleep.
“Should we watch TV?” I suggested.
He shook his head. “We could get drunk.”
“And be sick in the morning? No thanks.”
We sat on the sofa in our bathrobes, silently staring at the rivulets of rain on the patio doors while our minds kept replaying that awful scene with Ben.
“Elise?”
“What?”
“Did you ever love him?”
“No. I thought I did at first, when he was sweet and amusing and sexy. I loved the way he made me feel, until he got too rough and possessive. I was in lust with Ben, that’s all. I’ve never loved any man but you. Except for my father, of course, and CJ and Quinn, and maybe even Johnny at times.”
He pulled me close and kissed my temple. “I’m glad you stopped me from killing Ben tonight.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. According to Johnny, prison sucks. And as soon as I was locked up, you’d drop me for some other guy.”
“Think so?”
“Know so.”
“You don’t think I’d be faithful to you?”
“Nope. Not you.”
“Why not me?”
“’Cause you like to fuck all night long.”
I laughed then. Ben’s stupid slur was suddenly very funny. I laughed until Trey joined in and we clung together, happily releasing all that pent-up anger. We laughed until our sides ached and tears rolled down our faces.
“Trey?” I gasped.
“Yeah?”
“We should try it sometime. The all night thing, I mean.”
He grinned. “It’s a deal.”
I’d told my father I was going to Eugene to talk to Trey, but talk had been swallowed by sex and Ben. So on Saturday morning, after a breakfast of Trey’s omelettes and cinnamon rolls, I said we needed to talk.
He closed the dishwasher and turned around. “About what?”
“Everything. Us. Our situation.”
He perched on a stool across from me at the kitchen island. “I’ve got it all figured out,” he said. “Do you want to hear my plan?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. As I see it, we have five main concerns: an illegal marriage, risk of disclosure, criminal penalties for incest, possible birth defects, and our family’s opposition. Did I miss any?”
“I hope not. Those are more than enough.”
“So here’s what I think we should do. After I graduate in June, we should move to Rhode Island.”
I stared at him, certain I’d misunderstood. “Rhode Island? Why?”
“It’s one of two states where incest is not a criminal offense. New Jersey is the other one, but I think Rhode Island is a better choice. I could apply to teach at Rhode Island College in Providence. Brown University is there, too, but it’s Ivy League and my chances are slim. You could attend the Roger Williams School of Law in Bristol—it’s only eighteen miles from Providence. You’ll need to apply before April 18th . . .”
“Hold on,” I interrupted. “Just hold on! You want us to move to Rhode Island? Clear across the country to a place we’ve never been? What are you thinking?”
He sighed. “I’ve been thinking for days, trying to find a solution. We’ll be better off in a place that doesn’t know us. How many people in Rhode Island will remember I was a track star? How many will connect me with Quinn Larson? No one will even think you and I are cousins, much less siblings. Since we have the same last name, they’ll assume we’re married. It will work, Elise. We can do this.”
“So we’ll pretend to be married?”
“Yes.”
“What about children? What about birth defects?”
“We’ve been tested. The chances are slim.”
“Have you thought about our family? What this would do to them? You expect me to leave my father alone while we run off to Rhode Island? And Johnny would disown us. He would!”
“I doubt it. He’ll adjust to the idea. So will our family. They want us to be happy, you know.”
I reached across the island and took his hands in mine. “We’ll be running, Trey. Hiding. Pretending. Can we be happy while we’re living a lie?”
“Is our love a lie?” he asked.
“No. It’s real. But the rest . . .”
“The rest doesn’t matter. Only love matters.”
Letting go of his hands,
I slid off the stool and walked to the patio doors, where raindrops sparkled in a faint glimmer of sunlight. Can I do this? I wondered. Can I leave my home and family and go with Trey to a place where we can be together? Is this truly the only solution?
I turned around and looked at him as he patiently waited for my response, full of hope and love for me. Oh, Johnny, I thought. Why did you make him my brother? But without that one act, I would not exist.
I grasped at an alternate straw. “I’ve been accepted at the University of Idaho’s College of Law, starting in August. And you’ve applied to teach at Boise State. Couldn’t we live in Boise?”
“Live together, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“And risk a life sentence if we’re exposed? Just last Sunday you were vehement about the chance of disclosure of our genetic tests. Are you no longer worried about that?”
“Of course I’m worried, but . . .”
“But what?”
I walked back to the island—to where he sat waiting—and placed my hands on each side of his face. “You told me the chance of disclosure is infinitesimal,” I said. “So I’m willing to take the risk. It’s not a crime for cousins to live together, so that’s what we’ll do.”
“Unmarried?”
“Yes. At least we’ll be together and close to our family. It’s better than fleeing to Rhode Island, don’t you think?”
“You might feel differently when our fathers find out.”
“They started this problem, you know. They can live with it. And so can we.”
There was no more talk that morning. Our mouths were occupied with far more enjoyable things.
Chapter 19
I flew back to Boise on Sunday, rejecting Trey’s offer to accompany me. Surely, I thought, I’m strong enough to face my father alone when I tell him of our decision.
I drove from the airport through a late-February snowfall and found my father shoveling snow from our front steps and long walkway.
“Welcome home,” he said. “I’ll be through with this in fifteen minutes or so. How about we meet in my office over mugs of hot chocolate?”
Forbidden- Our Secret Love Page 11