by Lila Lacroix
Jonathan wiped tears from her cheeks, moved her hair from her face and said, “You always assume you are the lucky one, Julia. The one who has to wait to see what better people might decide for her.” She frowned, remaining silent, hanging on his every word. “Why can’t you see your worth to me?”
“Beyond the Visa application?”
“Christ, yes. You’re the one who should choose for yourself, not me, not anyone. Not the bloody contract. But, well. It’s not my place to assume what you want, either. But my god Julia,” he moved closer and kissed her eyes, her mouth, searched her every facial curve, “if you want me, and you don’t want to follow through with the contract, then please do stay with me. You are no fool, Love. I never lied. I said I loved you and I do. Do you understand me now?”
Julia’s throat constricted, her lungs strained with the pressure of holding onto air, a strange sob sound left her mouth before she gripped his shoulders, jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Oh Jon, I’m sorry for doubting you,” she said, before kissing him deeply.
Jonathan joined in the kiss with equal enthusiasm, and carried her to the bedroom. He lay her on the bed.
“I’m so sorry,” she held out her arms.
“Get undressed, stop apologising. I need to make my point clearer…”
His intent and his words spurred her to stand and kiss his mouth, while unbuttoning his jeans. He unzipped her dress then pulled it up over her head. The feeling as it revealed her yearning body, inch by inch, sent undeniable lust spurting through her core. “Ah, this isn’t moving quick enough,” she moaned, longing to begin.
“Does it ever?” He winked, undressing.
She stripped her underwear, and watched as Jonathan did the same. Their mutual hunger—an intense desire to seal their declaration, their words of surrender, and gifts of love physically—propelled them on. Once naked, hands found faces, fingers ran through hair and explored flesh, until finally they found each other’s sex, eager to merge, aching to be linked.
They fell together, on their king size four-poster bed, in the plush Parisian hotel, laughing softly, perhaps with mutual relief. They might just as well have been in her home town Illinois, or his leafy green childhood home in England, because home was now where ever they were like this—sweaty, joined in love and lust, need and compassion, surrender and devotion—home was being together.
Jonathan moved up to her breasts, from kissing her sex. Her salty sheen covered his mouth. Slightly open, lips swollen, panting, he said, “Never doubt me again.”
“I won’t,” moaned Julia, touching herself, riding her finger in preparation for him as he suckled her breasts. “I need you inside me, Jon. I’m so ready…”
He kneeled astride her, observing her as she writhed beneath him. “Promise me, tell me I am what you want.”
“I do, oh god, you are.”
“Tell me”
“I’m yours, Jon. Always.” She gasped at him, shaking above her, as though the intensity were too almost much. “I promise you.” She reached up to touch his face but he leant down and kissed her hard beforehand. He lowered his body, rubbed against her, then he entered her all in one swift exquisite movement, and while their stares locked, and mouths explored, he made love to his wife softly, passionately, languishing in the sheer indulgence of an intensely physical expression of love.
The rest of their two weeks in Paris passed too quickly, much of it spent in bed, as honeymooners do. She took around three hundred pictures on her brand new digital camera—a wedding gift from Danielle and Ray—knowing she’d treasure the memories forever.
* * *
When they returned to Hawaii, Jonathan and Julia fell back into their old routine, only now not marred by the worries of their contract. Now they were secure with each other’s each other’s mutual love.
She made him work less, insisting he switch off his phone at 7pm, and not switching it back on until 7 am. He resisted change to begin with, but within a week of her persistence and suggestions, he learned to delegate. He found, somewhat sadly at first, that things ran smoothly in his absence. Danielle, for example, proved herself worthy of the extra responsibility he gave her, so he promoted her to manager of the whole marketing division, much to Beth’s annoyance.
Double dates between Danielle and Ray and Julia and Jonathan, ensued. They did normal things together like hitting a bar or restaurant now and then; places where jeans were acceptable and designer handbags were usually counterfeit.
Julia couldn’t completely stop looking over her shoulder, though she’d relaxed a lot more since the restraining order. But she tried not to show it.
Outside the sun shone, inside his eyes shone almost as bright as her heart.
“Morning sexy, how’s it going?” he asked her, poking his head around the bathroom door.
Julia smiled, combing her hair. She was straight out of the shower. “Good, you?”
“Very good, come and join me for breakfast. I have news.”
Julia followed him into the kitchen, curious. “No more gifts, please. I told you, wait for my birthday or Christmas.”
“Stop being grumpy. You’re a grouch in the mornings I’ve noticed.”
Julia frowned, “Am I? Oh.” I do hate workday mornings. “So what news do you have? And quick, I have to get ready for work.” She entered the kitchen and, noticing Jonathan’s lawyer sipping tea, said “Oh crap. I mean, hey Steve,” and waved, feeling unprepared in her silky dressing gown.
“Hi Julia.” He waved back, blushing a little because Julia wore only a towel. “Always a pleasure.”
Nipples, behave!
They all sat at the table, where Susan had prepared a continental breakfast of coffee, tea, juices and assorted pastries. Julia grabbed coffee and a Danish and sat opposite Steve. “Well, can we proceed?”
“I love your impatience,” said Jonathan with a sly wink, no doubt referring to her need to bypass heavy petting and head straight to intercourse.
“I know,” she said, then took a bite of her Danish before licking the sugar from her lips seductively, “Chop, chop.”
Steve cleared his throat, his cheeks aflame, “Yes. If you put that little act on in front of the INS, they won’t bother questioning either of you.”
She laughed, “Still in the honeymoon period. Sure it’ll wear off at some point.”
Jon sat casually in the kitchen chair his legs wide open, smiling “Don't count on it.”
Steven clicked his fingers to get their attention, “Okay, enough children. I have a meeting to get to.”
Julia continued to stare at Jonathan, at how his mouth moved chewing the pastry, how his throat beckoned her with every swallow… “Okay. So do I.”
“You okay Jules?” asked Jonathan. “You’re looking a little…. flushed.”
She smiled.
“Well, Julia, I hope you will be pleased to find out that Mike is now living on the mainland, and working for a good friend of mine. The job pays better than anything Mike could get himself, and my friend will keep an eye on him, make sure he’s behaving.”
Jonathan said, “Good job, Steve. Isn’t that great, Jules?”
She reserved judgement for a while, at least until she could get all the facts. “O…kay?”
“He did a month of rehab in an excellent clinic, all paid for by this guy,” Steve addressed Jonathan. “And he’s seen the error of his ways. Group therapy hit him hard by all accounts; said it sickened him to remember what he did to you.”
She listened in silence, remembering the sickly sweet flowers he used to say sorry, in place of words. This sounded different, contrite.
Jonathan held her hand, concern on his face, “You said yourself love, it was the booze that started all of this. If he can learn to deal with that, learn how to deal with stuff better, he has more chance of moving on and leaving you the hell alone.”
Julia felt odd, as though someone yanked a great splinter from her heart. “When did he sober up? When did you guys
do all this?”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, “Ah. Well, I didn’t want to ruin our honeymoon by bothering you with my anxieties about it all, but I couldn’t just rely on that restraining order. I didn’t want to worry about what to expect when we got back.” He looked at Steve. “So we organised it,” then he smiled at Julia “to happen while we were in Paris.”
Julia realised she was frowning so much it began to feel uncomfortable. She tried to relax, “And it’s a success? He’s working, he’s off the booze, he’s not going to come after me?”
“Apparently so,” said Steve, all excited by the outcome. “Since he got off the booze, our doctors realised his main issue, aside from a proclivity to dependency and rage, was long-term depression. He’d self-medicated, which is common behaviour for men apparently.
She scoffed, “Rather get drunk than go to the doctor.” She remembered afresh Mike’s sobs behind closed doors, when he thought he was alone. It annoyed her that she might have been spared the trauma if he’d only spoken to her, to a doctor.
He traded his fear for mine.
“But now he’s on the right medication, he feels a lot better and well, tell her Jon.” Steven ginned and turned to Jonathan.
Meanwhile, her mind whirled. Perhaps she should stop reflecting, stop being so goddamn negative, and enjoy the news—Mike was out of her life. And it didn’t have to end with him in prison or her dead.
“He’s even dating again.” Jonathan said, tightening his squeeze on Julia’s hand, dragging her from her thoughts and back into the room.
She didn’t know how to feel, other than relieved. Yes, relief, hold onto that.
Jonathan elaborated and his eyes sparkled. “A waitress at his local diner, close to where he works. It’s early days, but a great start, don't you think? She’s a solid girl, someone who’ll keep him steady.”
Unlike me, who made him mad.
Jonathan beseeched some kind of reaction from her, so she smiled softly, and squeezed his hand in reply. Looking at Jon, at Steve, at their belief that all was well now, she slowly allowed their words to sink in and tried to move away from the negativity of her past.
“Mike sees a therapist once a week, just until he’s settled into his new life, make sure he keeps taking his medication.” He huffed, “Julia? The therapist has assured us that Mike is no threat to anyone in his present state.”
No threat … no threat, I’m safe?
Suddenly, words floating around her mind in a nonsensical mess lined up, orderly, ready for ingestion. This time she saw them without the negativity, the chokehold on her lungs released with a cough, then she asked them, “It’s … over then?”
Steve looked at Jonathan, Jonathan looked at Julia and they said together, “Yeah.”
Julia spluttered, cried with a mixture of elation, intense relief, and the sweetest taste of freedom. Held in her saviours arms, she declared, “I’m alive, I’m free, and I’m loved.” Jonathan’s face in her hands she added, “And I owe it all to you.”
“Yeah, that’s my cue to leave!” Steve left them to celebrate. And they did.
* * *
Several months later, Julia and Jonathan were discussing an entirely different matter in their kitchen with Steve: The matter of the pending meeting with the INS.
Steven flicked through his paperwork, addressing them both, he asked, “So you know all the details, you’ve gone over all they’ll ask, and are confident you’ll pass the interview without issue. Yes?”
The happy couple are only half aware of him. He’d disturbed their weekend in bed, after all. Glaring at the lovebirds playing footsie under the table, he coughed. “Come on guys, soon as I clear this up, sooner you can get back to…”
Julia interrupt him, “Do you know me well enough by now Mr. Jergan? What say ye?” Grinning, she moved her hand to massage Jonathan’s upper thigh beneath the table, and his eyebrows shot up.
After the initial shock, Jonathan opened his legs wider to aid her tease, and gave her the look that told her he was entirely ready … for the INS interview and his wife’s advances. “I think I can handle it.”
Steve sighed, fiddled with his gold pen, “And you, Julia? Are you … ready?” Steve averted his eyes, flushed. “For the interview, I mean.” He held up both hands. “I’d prefer it if anything else could wait till I leave, if that’s at all possible.”
“Oops, are we being inappropriate again? Sorry.” She looked to Jonathan, smirking like a naughty school kid. “But yes, I know my guy inside out, back to front, and every which way but loose.” With a squeeze of his knee, she sighed, “So, bring it on.”
Jonathan’s mouth slightly opened, his eyes darkened.
“Right, and what of this contract between you?” he waved the offending papers at them both. “I take it there will be no divorce any time soon?”
“Give those here,” said Jonathan, snatching them out of Steve’s hands. Then he turned to Julia, “Any objections if I rip these up?”
Their reasons for beginning a relationship might have been unconventional, even amoral. Their histories prevented them from offering love to another, easily. But they found in each other a catalyst for change. It was their turn to be loved.
“I’ll take those,” Julia said, swiping the papers. She walked to Steve’s suit jacket, neatly draped around the chair, and claimed his Clipper from the top pocket where it always was. Flicking the Clipper, the papers burst to flame over the kitchen sink and she watched with joy as they burned to ash, falling like feathers, to the basin. “That takes care of those.”
Steve reclaimed his lighter and replaced his coat, amused. “Good job!”
“Leaving so soon, Steve?” she asked him, while looking at Jonathan.
“He has urgent business to attend to, hey Steve?” Jonathan said while looking at her and backing out of the kitchen, toward their bedroom.
“See you Steve.” she said, prowling toward Jonathan, who, just before turning the corner out of view, beckoned her with his finger. “I’m right behind you,” she said, following Jon with a skip. “We have urgent business of our own.”
The End
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Lila Lacroix is a young writer who loves to write steamy new adult romance novels. Stay tuned for more of her tantalizing tales of young love, coming soon! If you’d like to hear more from Lila, please connect with her online:
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