by Rue, Rebekah
The next day I sheepishly sneak around the house, trying not to draw attention. For some reason, I feel I need to keep our secret rendezvous a secret, just like all the other times. I guess old habits die hard. The mere thought of seeing him again has me so excited yet unhinged.
With three hesitant knocks on the door of room 8649, the door opens. Wow! When I get a good look at him straight on, his gray eyes throw me, appearing flawlessly smooth like liquid metal. I’m amazed at how much he’s changed. Though it hasn’t been terribly long, his features have grown more defined, chiseled. He’s a man and looks devastatingly handsome. Timidly, I swallow then speak. “Hi.”
His mouth barely lifts in a smile, and he steps back, holding the door open for me. “Please.” He gestures with a hand. I’m careful not to brush against him, but it’s unavoidable when I pass through the cinnamon-scented Heath cloud that takes up the small hallway. His hotel room is nice. It isn’t the presidential suite, but I can tell it’s bigger than any of the other standard rooms here. Heath follows me to the living room where I sit at one end of the couch, and Heath takes the accent chair adjacent to me. Neither one of us says anything at first, simply taking each other in; it feels unreal. Where should I start? My heart is pounding and I have to remind myself that this is just a conversation.
“You know you’re late,” he accused.
I know. I flash him a rueful smile, none too eager to start this conversation.
No matter how many times I try to tell myself it will be okay, deep down I know it won’t. My gut tells me it’s a bad idea to meet up with him. I even planned the whole visit out in my head because I had to hold on to some weak form of control.
“Have you eaten?” I shake my head no. Gracefully, he smiles. “Good.” He adjusts his body in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. I squirm in the couch cushions, waiting. “It’s been a long nine months.” I force a nod. “I’ve really missed you.” Ouch. I drop my eyes. “It’s sad. I think about all the good times we had.” He pauses. “Do you?”
I consider him with a furrowed brow. I can’t look him in the eyes, so I focus on his throat, feeling a fire burn inside me. What answer is he expecting? My honesty is lame, but it’s the best I can do. “No.” I lie.
With a sad smile, he murmurs, “Wow . . . that stings.” It hurts to hurt him. We once had a painfully beautiful love and he inspired me every day I was with him to step out of my comfort zone and explore myself.
The doorbell chimes and Heath gets up. I watch and am fascinated with the colorful skin flexing over tight muscle, his white tee that tightens around his firm torso, and the snugness of his jeans. God bless those jeans! I have to stop my eyes from rolling back with desire. It’s only because we had once been so familiar with each other’s bodies.
No, block that thought.
I hear two low-pitched voices behind me followed by the sound of the door closing. Heath returns with two plates of food and glasses of wine. I don’t know if my stomach will allow me to eat, but I try, not even tasting the food. “So how did you get into art? You never did any of that back when . . . well, you know.”
Heath swallows his bite and answers. “It’s wild; it happened kind of like divine intervention. After you ‘left”’—he air quotes the word—“a part of my life shifted. A piece went missing. I never envisioned you to be a flight risk.” He pauses, leaving that heavy moment hanging in the air. I take a sip of my wine, hiding behind the slender crystal, remembering how cowardly I handled the situation. “For months I waited, waited for you to come back home or for a phone call or even a fucking light to be on in your house. Anything!” He shakes his head. “What I got was nothing. I think it’s pretty understandable to say I was pissed. I was so angry at you. I couldn’t understand.
“I developed a real destructive mean streak after that, which law enforcement didn’t appreciate very much. I went to jail many times for fighting, destruction of property, even thievery. You name it; I came close to doing it. The judge put me under house arrest and made me get a job at this hardware store down the street from my house.
“One night, right at closing time, these rough neck guys came in. They bought a dozen cans of spray paint in a variety of colors, which really had me wondering what they did with them. So I locked up early and carefully followed them. What they did with that spray paint was magnificent! The next day I left work with a few cans and tried it out for myself. It took some time, but I turned out to be decent.”
“So you’re a graffiti artist.” He nods. “By the crowd you had at the showing, I’d say you are a little better than decent.”
“Well, thank you. I simply used it as a way to channel my anger. I never thought anything would come of it.”
I feel a pang of guilt that I had caused him so much anger. It was so out of character for him. “So how did you go from your garage to galleries?”
He smiles for a second like the next part is funny. “My work gave me power and pride—the control I needed to take something that wasn’t mine and to make it mine. I’d been working on a very large mural that stretched across three box cars. It was finished, and I snuck back down that night to the tracks to see if the train had gone, and that’s when I was ambushed. Supposedly, the cops had been watching me. I was none to cooperative, blackening an officer’s eyes. One of the arresting officers liked my work. He said he was going to give me a break, that he knew someone that would be really interested in my style. A week later I received a phone call from a gallery in New York, asking if I could make a trip out there, so I did.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
“Yeah. Strangely my style seems to make people uncomfortable. In turn, that means a lot of attention, which equals a lot of money.”
Heath gets up and moves my half-eaten plate away, settling in the seat next to me. The air thickens and suddenly I know we’re too close when the goldfish in my tummy starts flopping. I’ve never been so uncomfortable looking at him straight on. I feel like that inexperienced girl again. Ever so gently he coaxes my face to him with a palm to my cheek, holding my chin and diving deep into my eyes. “I have nothing if I don’t have you.” I draw in a shaky breath, trying to remain composed. “I said it once and I’ll tell you every single day; you are so damn beautiful. Come back home with me. I’ll drive us out of here tonight. It doesn’t even have to be Texas. Hell, I’ll take you wherever you want to go; just say the word.”
I think about it for a split second before being struck with a pang of guilt then shake my head back and forth, breaking his hold. It all sounds so dreamy, but this is my home now. I have responsibilities and school and people who care about me. Still, one half of me wants to leap into his arms, tell him how much I’ve missed him, but I don’t.
“I can’t. I can’t do this.” I stand up. Heath watches my hand slip from his fingers, and I slide my purse strap over my shoulder. I shouldn’t have come.
I walk away, pulling open the front door when Heath’s hand comes from the side of my head and slams it shut, twisting the lock in place. When I turn around, he’s glaring at me, our faces not far apart.
“Stop. You can’t always leave. I won’t let you walk away from me again.”
“I’m not walking away. I’ll always love and support you, but I’m with someone and that means something to me.”
Heath shifts back. “Ah, yes, the boyfriend. Does he know you? Does he understand your story like I do?”
“That’s not fair.” I shoot back, pushing at his chest. I don’t want to start this, but he reaches up and grabs me by my wrists.
“Do you love him?”
Yes, I think, nodding. “He’s so incredible and loving. I couldn’t ask for anything better. We’re comfortable.”
“And what . . . did you not love me?”
A silence passes through us that cuts me to the core. My head falls back against the door I’m leaning on, and I barely whisper into the air. “I think I loved you a little too much.” I pause, needing a moment. My han
ds are brought up and placed over his heart. The pounding is steady and strong, emitting vibrations that reverberate down my arms. His forehead comes down and rests on mine at the same time as I close my eyes. He keeps his open. Swallowing hard, I struggle to get a hold of my emotions, knowing in my heart I loved him and that it’s not easy to just delete those emotions.
After our moment, Heath pulls back and smiles remorsefully. I continue. “Heath, you became my whole world. I threw my family away for you.” I blink, quickly feeling the rush of tears coming. “And look what that got me.” A few droplets fall from my eyes, but Heath catches them with the brush of his thumbs, leaving his warm hands on the sides of my face. His comfort feels right, and I crumble into his chest, fisting his shirt. I cry out all the hurt I never released, thankful I still have him. No one understands like Heath.
He holds me tightly in his arms, his cheek resting on my head, and lets me sob my sadness into his shirt, all the while soothingly stroking my back with a hand.
After what seems like forever, I start to feel like a fool, remembering where I am and what I must look like now. My chest shudders between breaths as I begin to pull away. Only he keeps me in his arms, stopping me with his eyes. His expression is serious yet understanding. As I look up through my wet lashes, Heath slowly brings his face to mine. Closing his eyes, he methodically brushes our cheeks together and washes away the tears with gentle kisses. I don’t stop him. It’s the most comforting sensation. It reminds me of all the times he used to do that when we were together. I feel him delicately caress up my jaw, over my eyes, to the middle of my forehead, and back down with a pause at my lips.
Waiting for permission.
“If you don’t want this, you better say it now,” he says, angling his mouth back.
“I want this. Take all my broken pieces, Heath, and make me whole again. Take away my pain.” I sniffle.
He doesn’t falter with hesitation. He kisses me like he owns me.
The arm hooked around my lower back tightens, and his other hand on my cheek slides to the back for a firmer grip in my hair. Our lips move passionately slow, savoring the sweetness. I moan into his mouth, and everything around us disappears as the energy that once lived within is brought back to life.
A peace of belonging. The mate to my soul.
I hook my arms around his neck at the same time Heath slides his hands down to my butt, firmly holding my ass. A cheek in each hand, he picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, letting my sandals fall to the floor. He carries me to his moonlit bedroom and kicks the door shut, never once breaking our kiss. Setting my feet to the ground, Heath seductively peels away layer after layer of clothing, leaving me in nothing but my white thin lace bra and matching thong. We’ve played around sexually before, but the charge sparking between us now intensifies the whole appeal. Gazing down with a great aerial view of my cleavage, Heath releases a low growl and slowly shakes his head. “Wow.” My body remains still, except for a fine nervous buzz.
With gentle hands, he lifts me and lays me down in the middle of his soft bed, taking a step back and boldly looking over my body with such need. His eyes finger over my skin, exploring. My nipples harden as if they’re being touched. A low moan escapes his mouth, and I adoringly watch Heath rip his shirt over his colorful back and throw it somewhere across the room. Flawless muscles stretch and contract, creating the perfect six pack, and I feel my core grow good and wet. Locking sight, he rubs a hand over the boulder in his jeans, standing at the foot of the bed. My lungs beg for air through soft rapid pants, aching feverishly for him.
One handed, he unbuckles his belt, letting the two ends dangle, the metal sides clinking together with the movement of his hips. With the other hand, he pops the button open and lowers the zipper, his jeans hanging open. I stare at his strong erection trying to jump out of his waistband and begging to be let loose. My hands run along my body with the great need to feel something: my soft skin, smooth curves, and the power of being a woman. On the outside, I probably appear seductive and confident, when really I’m so scared, but I’ll never let that show.
“You sexy little vixen, I’m going to treasure every part of that body,” he says, taking a nip of his lip.
Placing his knee on the foot of the bed, Heath starts to crawl over me. Moving quickly, I stop him with the tips of my red toes, pressing them in the valley of his pecs. His mouth twitches out a devilish smile, and Heath tenderly collars my ankle in his warm hands, lifting my toes to his mouth. Holding my stare, he playfully nips my big toe and one by one kisses each red piggy. My eyes dilate with lust and anticipation, watching him gradually trail kisses from my ankle, tasting his way up to my lips. Little wet spots cool in his wake, and I whimper since it feels like the tingling of a hundred tiny needles.
With his hands knotted in my hair, our eyes make love and our lips kiss slow and true. Heath pulls back, whispering a breath away from my lips. “I’ve waited so long for this. I want to take this nice and slow, enjoy every second, but I keep getting a nagging feeling that you’ll disappear from right under me. I don’t like that at all.”
“Well, then, don’t stop; don’t think. I’m not leaving you,” I whisper, kissing the spot directly under his chin and affectionately nuzzling his neck. Heath eats up my words. His hands are more steady and confident exploring my breasts, taking the weight of them in his hands, and bringing them together. He kisses around my areolas, stimulating the delicate flesh and snuggling his face in the center of them. He takes them as communion, worshipping them. I moan and quiver beneath his body, arching them up to him for a fuller taste. I run my hands through his hair, making it wild, and take fistfuls at the base of his neck, trying to get him closer.
“I’ve missed you so much, Lo.” Kiss, kiss, nip. “The feeling of you in my hands is amazing. This is where you belong, with me, not with him . . . only me.” Kiss, lick, kiss. How true his words are. Things are just simply different with Heath.
His knee shifts, and I look down to find it tickling my entrance. His mouth continues to tease down my neck. Shifting my hips, I squeeze my legs together, tilting my pelvis and grinding my clit in slow circles across his knee, my moisture darkening the blue in that spot. I shiver with pleasure, and a low moan vibrates his chest as he pushes that knee up into my core, jostling my body, deepening the rub. “Christ, you’re so ready for me. My knee is soaked.” He breathes over my skin.
As our wants increase, so does our speed. We grow needier, more demanding. I finger the ridges of his abs and squirm as he playfully removes my bra and panties, leaving my body bare to him, my skin bristling with uncontrolled desire. Rubbing down my body, he lightly teases the crests of my hips and caresses my lower belly. He smiles, liking his next thoughts. “Lo, my love, one day this beautiful belly will carry my babies.” He bends down and kisses right over my womb.
I tremble at the thought. “You have quite an imagination.” I smile.
Pausing, Heath leans back on his knees, intensifying the strain of his cock against the fabric. His perfectly defined chest lifts with each pant. The sight makes my chest burn. With his left hand, he reaches over, grasping his belt buckle, and in one swift pull, he rips it from the loops, letting it dangle from his hand.
I gasp wide-eyed. That is hot.
Gingerly, he threads the leather belt behind my lower back and leaves it to lie flat. With two fingers, he gently touches me down there, running the pads over my folds, spreading a moderate amount of my moisture up and down and over my clit in circles, soaking me. I wither and cry out with the teasing brushes. When he leans down and takes a slow consuming lick, collecting a mouthful of my flavor, the deepest pleasure shoots through me, almost taking me over. “Mmmm, you’re perfect.” He moans, making my toes point. “Sweeter than a Georgia peach, ripe and ready to be eaten.” He smiles. Oh God!
Heath wastes no time at all, shoving his pants and boxers down and kicking them away. His erection juts out rock hard, rippled, and masculine. I stare slack-jawed bet
ween his legs, biting my pointer finger knuckle with worry. “Just relax and it won’t hurt as much.” Taking another disbelieving look, I furrow my brow, wondering how.
Heath fists his dick in his hand and strokes it a few times, looking down the length of it to my pink center. His eyes simmer, and he drops his shaft with a heavy bounce, sliding his hands around the back of my bent knees, adjusting my legs wider so that the back of my thighs rest on top of his upper thighs, our privates resting mere inches away. I can’t stop my hand from reaching up and pumping his shaft once, just as he did. It’s hot, thick, and glorious, jumping with excitement. “Shit, sweetheart!” he gasps, stopping me. “I want to enjoy this with you . . . no blowing it.” He smiles at his joke. I bite my lip, thinking about blowing it, getting my lips fully around him, and slowly swallowing as much of him as possible. My deep burning ache has now turned into a throbbing pulse.
Palming his cock again, he rubs the tip along my wet sex, dipping the head in just slightly and gathering up moisture. When he’s slippery wet and glistening with me, he uses the two ends of his belt and pulls my hips up with ease, the leather tightening against my butt and lower back but not uncomfortably. He aligns his hot tip at my entrance, and I can’t look away; I don’t want to miss this. I can feel the heat knocking to come in. Then, slowly he inches his cock into me with a hiss, halfway. I tense and squeeze my eyes closed at the painful stretch. I’m plenty wet, but he’s so big, and well, I’m so little. He tenderly touches my cheek and whispers sweet words, holding very still. My muscles loosen around him from his words.
When he moves again, dragging completely out and smoothly pushing half in, I almost lose my mind. This is sheet-clawing, toe-curling stuff. Then he pulls completely out again, using the belt to pull him halfway back in. By the fifth agonizing time, he tries taking me deep but hits the thin barrier and stops. Holding perfectly still, his eyes change, looking softly with questions. I lick my lips and barely nod. It’s evident what he’s asking. I follow his gaze to us connected, completely captivated at the sight and pleasure of our bodies bound. It’s fucking beautiful.