RETRACE

by Ehrlich, Sigal

Before I know it, my jeans and panties are ripped off me. He positions me back at the table and props my ass up before him, reverently caressing it.

  “Hold tight to the table,” he says, and the sound of his zipper freeing him is like a sweet promise. I feel his body’s heat back behind me, then he nudges my legs to spread. Right after, he directs himself to where I’m eagerly waiting for him. He teases me first, and I lean back against him. As he sinks just one inch more I drop my head between my spread arms. One of his hands moves to hold me by my shoulder and the other by my waist. He pulls back just a little and then in one fierce slam he causes the wildest delightful cry to fly from my mouth.

  There’s nothing subtle nor poised about our need for release as I lean into him while Reeves thrusts into me, repeatedly and with strength. He pulls back and pounds into me again, and again. I grip the edge of the table, absorbing his raw, blessed attack. He grows thicker, and I become slicker and greedier. He slows to leave hungry kisses on my back, from the middle of my spine to the nape of my neck. I press back against him and he picks back the pace and continues playing on each of my aroused strings.

  “Yes, yes,” I pant, begging for him to go even faster. He does. And he reaches deeper. The sound of our bodies colliding fills the room. He releases his hold on my shoulder and brings his hand between my legs to start circling, pressing just enough to make me explode into millions of particles of ecstasy.

  Still landing from my mind-shuttering orgasm, spasming around him, I feel him increase his already wild pace. Not long after, just before reaching his own relief, he freezes for a short breath, pinned deep into me.

  “God, you feel amazing,” he rasps. With his next forceful thrust, “fuck, Nia,” is uttered through a strained breath, just before he falls on top of me. Satiated, we even our heartbeats.

  “And just for the record… I won,” I say, and we both lightly chuckle in unison.

  “And just for the record, Scrabble is officially my new favorite game.” Reeves watches me, his eyes lit with amusement as I shimmy into my panties while reaching for my jeans.

  “Uh,” his low, clear voice prompts me to meet his eyes. He rubs the back of his neck. “You kind of have…a…” He points to my legs. I tip my gaze to search for-I’m not even sure what. He drops to his knees beneath me, his jeans still unbuttoned. Reeves extends his hand toward my knee and peels a little tile that had glued to my skin while I was on my knees.

  He softly hovers the pad of his finger on the indentation the small letter piece has left. His face tilts up to look at me while donning the most gigantic grin. My lips stretch in reflex. I slightly bow to check the new imprint. I let out a giggle as I see a red-ish “R” marking my skin.

  “Maybe I should add a trademark symbol above it,” Reeves says, and we exchange elated stares.

  “Am I yours?” I playfully tease.

  “In a way,” he says, and turns to put his clothes on.

  What was that supposed to mean? When I open my mouth to comment, he already has one foot inside the bathroom. I snap my mouth shut and resume shrugging my jeans on, obsessing over the three words he just uttered.

  ~~~

  As night falls, once again, we turn-in in Reeves’ apartment. When he asked if I ever ate, ransacking through my perpetually empty fridge, I took the opportunity to coax him to go to his place instead where food can be found in abundance. Food, I learned quite quickly, is a good way to his heart. It’s not that I don’t want him at home, it’s my bedroom I rather he wouldn’t visit. There are too many mementos in there I rather not share with anyone.

  We lie side by side in Reeves’ wide bed, indulging in the fresh scented, navy linen. Reeves is in his boxers, leaning high on a pillow against the headboard. I’m on my side, facing him with the soft comforter threaded between my thighs. Raptly, I watch his lips move as he tells me funny stories from his travels as a bodyguard. I lightly laugh when he tells me about one of his client’s man-eater of a wife and the excuses she uses to get her husband’s security people to her room while dear hubby labors nearby.

  My eyes independently start to crawl down the length of his tall and firm body while I listen to his calming voice. His tight, fair skin, the ridges and rims of his chest, his defined abs, the soft dark trail between his shaped V that leads to his boxers. For a span of a minute I’m lost, drinking the sight of him. My eyes return to leisurely feast on his handsome face, his sharp nose, his plump lips, hard cheekbones and the little crinkles now decorating his eyes. He cranes his neck my way, locking our stares.

  “I don’t know much about you,” he says in a soft voice. It’s more a genuine interest, rather than any sort of accusation. “I told you things about me that I’ve never shared with anyone else, and yet you told me nothing about yourself.”

  “What would you like to know about me?” My stomach begins to twist in a knot.

  “Whatever you are willing to tell me.” He sends his hand to cover mine. He rubs his thumb in circles over my skin. “You can start by telling me the real reason you decided to leave home. Why am I an escape?” My chest tightens viciously both at the way he looks at me at this very moment, and because I know it’s time I should tell him something about my past.

  “I moved away because it was too hard to be at home.” Reeves turns to mimic my position, laying on his side, his eyes owning mine. “I lost someone dear to me about three years ago.” I swallow over the lump forming in my throat. Reeves’ cringe of pain and empathy sends my heart to pang. His stare next prompts me to go on, saying I have his full attention and so much more. “It changed everything for me, it changed me.” My eyes roam to focus on a spot on the wall behind him. “It changed the way I felt about myself, the way I saw… life.” My lips twist in a bitter smile. “Reeves, I’m sorry but this is too hard and… I… had a part in losing this person… I’m sorry, I need more time. I know you’ve opened up to me, and you’d like me to do the same to you. That’s what friends do. I want that too, maybe I just need more time.”

  Reeves’ hold on my hand tightens. He doesn’t push me. His silence lets me know I’m the one in control.

  With a far-off stare I resume, “The way people acted around me, my friends, my family, it felt like no one really understood what I was going through. I had to have a break, a fresh start. Everyone tried to help me out of my shell.” I take a deep breath. “But it didn’t help much. Maybe I wanted to be in that shell.” I hold a tear back. “It felt like I didn’t belong there anymore. I still feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

  I turn to look at him and our eyes catch for a strained beat. Reeves brings his hand to cup my cheek and I lean into it. He inches toward me and presses his lips to my forehead before sending his hand to his nightstand drawer to produce a black marker. I watch him as he removes the cap with his teeth. He then turns to the wall, just above the headboard and writes:

  You Belong Here

  He draws an arrow that points to the pillow I’ve been resting my head on every night for the last few months. My heart starts to beat double-time. Emotions bubble up inside of me. Scared, I laugh it off. With the greatest pretence in history of nonchalance, I roll my eyes and say, “It’s always about sex, huh? ‘You’ is pretty general, you know. You can just use it to woo anyone you get in here.” I let out another titter, trying to mask the storm inside of me, and wink.

  It isn’t a laugh, or any sort of amusement for that matter that he reciprocates with. On the contrary, his lips turn into a hard line and his eyes fire up. I watch him as he takes the cap and fists it in his hand forcefully till his knuckles whiten.

  His chest lifts with his next inhale. His eyes turn soft as he watches me profoundly while bringing the marker to point at his bare chest. With his stare penetrating mine he slowly writes on his skin, just mere inches above his heart:

  Nia

  “You are right, you belong in here.” Reeves places his hand over my name.

  He just tore me apart, savagely, in the best of ways, and I’m left
petrified. Tears choke me and my next breath is a hard one to take in. I turn my head sideways, making an immense job of collecting myself, of holding my tears back. I’m scared to even allow myself to admit what I’m feeling right now. I can not.

  “Shh, listen carefully, if you’re quiet enough you’ll be able to hear my heart telling you that.” He smiles at me gently. My own heart is about to overflow.

  Reeves’ hand finds my chin and tilts my head for our eyes to level. He brushes my hair over my shoulder. He leans lower to lay on his stomach with his face inches from mine. He slowly tilts his head.

  And he kisses me.

  Everything he is trying to tell me lands in the very core of me with the way his lips touch mine. It’s soft, and gentle, and warm, and airy, and I mirror him with the same suppleness. Dissolving into him. It is our kiss that explicitly puts out there what I’m not willing to acknowledge. I slowly flatter my eyes into his and everything just feels so much better.

  When I meet his mouth again and press harder, he rests his palm spread on the center of my stomach and eases me back. He tilts his head, looking at me in a way that makes me shiver inside. Soulful greens caressing every inch of me. He leans back and resumes kissing me, with a slow, feathery touch. Repeatedly. When we slowly ease off, my heart is filled with so much more; it’s saturated with emotion. An instant panic takes over me as the need to tell him how much I care for him takes over.

  I couldn’t be more thankful for Reeves’ phone to ring, relieved that he takes the call. I need a moment. I need a moment to process what has taken over me so forcefully. I need to calm my damn speeding heart and mind down.

  Chapter 23

  Reeves

  It takes me a moment to decide whether to take the call, given I’m about to say something to Nia I might regret later. I can feel it in my bones. My emotional stability just left me, she tore me apart, I’m not even sure I know how to deal with it. Taking this call would be the best way to break the intensity we’ve once again fallen into. I couldn’t be more positive Nia felt it too. It can’t be any other way when it’s as strong.

  I inwardly shake off the spell and answer. Just like any other time before, as soon as I see Beth’s name across my phone, a pull between warmth and care, guilt and deception, starts to cause riots within me.

  “Hey Beth.”

  “How have you been, my dear?”

  “Fine, busy. Same ol’.” I pause for a beat. “How are you guys doing?”

  “We’ve missed you, Reeves. We haven’t seen you for a while.”

  I turn to look at Nia who’s watching me. I’m not sure if that glee in her eyes is due to her feasting on my looks, or just watching me, trying to gather who I’m talking to. Frankly, I don’t really care. Whichever it is, the fact that her eyes are on me, it’s what really matters.

  “Perhaps you could come for dinner on Friday?”

  “Beth, can I call you later, I have someone over.”

  I’m not too keen on turning this into a long chat, having Nia beside me, especially after the moment we just had.

  “Oh, sure. Sure. Anyone I know?”

  I return Nia’s gaze and our lips crook up in unison.

  “No. She is a new friend of mine. My neighbor.” I add the neighbor part to make sure Nia remains in neutral territory. Why the hell do I keep doing this? Nia’s grimace doesn’t escape me. What’s wrong with me?

  “A new friend? Perhaps you could bring her on Friday?” Beth takes on the mother part too well. She always does. Both in the caring and in the nosy departments.

  The next words seem to just fly out of my mouth, not much thinking it over. “Nia, would you like to join me for dinner with friends on Friday?”

  Nia’s brows furrow for a short pause. She shrugs and mouths, “Okay.”

  My smile expands. Yes, I want her with me there. I want her with me everywhere.

  “We’ll both be there,” I say to the phone, watching Nia as she turns to lie on my bed with her olive, lean legs propped on the wall.

  “Oh, that’s great. I’m looking forward to seeing you both.” Beth’s soft voice jubilates. “How about seven-ish?”

  “Sounds good,” I say before ending the call.

  “So who are the friends we are visiting this time?” Nia asks, tilting her head backward to catch my eyes.

  “The Evans. Ben’s family.” I slump back on my pillow.

  Nia’s look trails to the ceiling above us. “Are you sure you want me there?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want you with me.” She drops her head to the side, gazing at me.

  “Do you visit them often?”

  I nod.

  “I have family here, but I haven’t visited them,” she says as though to herself.

  “Why’s that?” I ask, shaking her out of her musing.

  She scratches her collar bone, pensive. “I’m not sure.” Her nose wrinkles. “The last time I spoke to my aunt was right before leaving home. She told me I should start putting the past in the past and that it’s about time I started to let it go.” She frowns. “Then she gave me a whole lecture about how three years have passed, and that three years is a long time to still be mourning.” She runs her fingers through her hair, brushing away a lock that clings to her cheek. “How can anyone decide what you should, or should not feel, only because a certain time frame has passed?”

  “No one can, or should.” I keep quiet even though there’s so much more I could say. She’s opening up to me, I don’t want to do or say anything to draw her back. I’m eager to learn as much as I can about her.

  “I think that for the entire first year I was in shock. It felt like I was slipping away from everything I knew. I felt caged in my own head. Somehow I carried myself through the pain.” I send my hand to thread my fingers with hers. “Throughout the second and third year, I went through most of the commonly known stages of loss. And here I am, almost three years after I lost one of the people I loved and probably will ever love the most.”

  Her last words strike right through my gut. For so many reasons they leave a burn. Starting from the many similarities we share, to hearing her say she loved someone as much. I’m embarrassed to admit to myself that the sting I just felt was a product of jealousy, of a dead person.

  “Three years and there’s still the last stage, the one I can’t seem to embrace. I could never accept it,” she says. “I can’t. I feel so guil—” Her words break. Quicker than I can react, she flings a hand to her mouth and she’s out of the bed. Out of the room. Back to her shell. Shit.

  I give her a moment and then follow her. She’s leaning with one hand propped on the kitchen’s marble surface, a glass of water in the other. I take a few steps toward her, stopping when her back is lightly touching my chest. She puts the glass to the counter, sighing. I wrap one hand above her shoulder and pull her back into me. My breath is held until she drops her head to rest on my chest.

  “Uh…” She murmurs.

  I wrap my other hand around her waist, holding her tight. I kiss the crown of her head. “You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to. Thank you for everything you shared with me today.” A frisson of relief and gratification filters through me as I feel her relax in my arms. We stand in silence, each in our own thoughts for some moments.

  “Thank you.” Her quiet voice interrupts our pensive silence. She twirls in my arms to face me. “Thank you for listening, and thank you for not pushing me any further.” She inches up on her toes and gently presses her lips to mine.

  I tip my head lower, my hand moves to the nape of her neck and I bring her closer. Her tongue meets my lips, stroking, coaxing its entrance. When she kisses me next, it’s nothing sexual, nonetheless, it’s our very first kiss that seeps all the way to my bloodstream. I lightly graze my thumb over the delicate skin of her neck, slowly tasting her sweet mouth. Feelings I’ve never felt before emerge within me, stirring my stomach with warmth. Her hands trace to my shoulders, caressing me wi
th gentle strokes.

  I lift her to straddle me and carry her to my bed.

  We lie in silence, Nia still in my arms, her head on my chest. I thread my fingers through her soft, silky hair, thinking about things I want to tell her but can’t really let out of my lips. She roams her hand over my stomach leisurely, stopping above my heart.

  “I love being in here,” she says, and I swallow the emotions that multiply to the power of ten at the very place her name is still inscribed in black marker. It’s her - my best source of escapism, in all possible ways.

  ~~~

  “Think about it before you answer, man. It could do you good, especially with the new developments,” Jake concludes the last ten minutes of our conversation, suggesting I’d go on a new job now that the A.Z case has taken on full velocity. Elbow leaning on the kitchen counter, dipping my forehead into the heel of my palm, I think about Jake’s offer. A half-drunk coffee cup waits beside me. I’m mulling over being away for such a long time.

  “Two months?” I ask again, not sure what it is that makes me feel ambivalent about Jake’s proposal.

  “Two, or more, I’ll know for sure later today. Being away right now is the best thing for you.” I hear the sound of the keyboard clicking at the other end. I scrub my morning scurf, more precisely late afternoon stubble, with my head still bowed.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You guys coming later?”

  “We wouldn’t miss Carmie on stage for anything.”

  “You bet your sweet ass you won’t. She’ll castrate you if you dare.”

  “Speaking of emasculating… So the misses eventually moved in, huh?”

  “What can I say?” Jake grunts. “She’s my baby momma after all… And she’s fucking crazy… Who can really deal with her?” He sighs in amused surrender. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Hard.

  “See ya tonight.”

  Pushing myself to the extreme lifting weights, and a long steamy shower later, I head to get ready before picking Nia up from her lesson. She is not expecting me to, but the thought of watching her dance didn’t leave my head since the moment she left this morning.