by Tina Ness
“Hmm?” he manages, still planting light kisses on and around my lips.
“Did you really mean it when you said I have been on your mind ever since you first saw me?”
He takes my shoulders gently, meeting my eyes. “You don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?”
“How goddamn beautiful you are and that you, Beth,” he runs his thumb over my lips, “are in no way inferior to your twin.”
His words wash over me like a wave of electricity. I can’t stand another second of not being with him in every way, not tasting every single inch of him.
His control is awe-inspiring as he slowly lowers me to the bed. Standing before me, he makes quick work of removing his jeans, freeing the glorious beast that was hidden in the luckiest pair of cotton briefs. My mouth waters, and moisture builds swiftly between my thighs. I can tell by his dilated pupils and heavy breath that he is feeling as ready as I am. He tucks each finger under the lace of my panties and works them down so slowly I nearly bark for him to finish up. Instead, I show patience like he has and savor every second. Kisses travel up my entire body as he makes his way back to me, making me squirm.
“Marshall,” I whisper, “there are condoms in the top drawer of my nightstand.”
He opens the drawer and takes one out, turning to me with a sly grin. I know he just got an eyeful of my toy collection, and I’m glad. I hope this will be the tamest sex we will ever have. After I heal, I hope he plans to devour me like I plan to devour him.
Chapter 16
Slow, steady, rhythmic perfection melts us into the bed, where we lie breathless. I never knew vanilla sex could be that good. After Gavin, I was convinced that you had to have all-out wild, kinky sex for it to be any good. Man, was I wrong. Every moment of our endeavor had me gasping for air, clawing at the bed covers, holding back screams. He was so careful and gentle, watching my reactions to every thrust. Hearing moans leave his spectacular lips paired with the fine-tuned precision of his motions sent me spiraling into orgasmic bliss. I can hardly imagine something more flawless.
He comes up onto an elbow, looking down at me with a grin so big it makes me laugh.
“Was that funny to you?” He tries to look serious, but fails miserably.
“Not remotely. But that cute smile on your face is priceless.”
“Is that so?” His soft, lingering kiss makes me melt even further into the bed. “Are you aware that you’ve had a similar grin all morning?” He brushes a strand of hair away from my face.
“Is that so?”
He squeezes me tighter.
“Was that your idea of taking care of me today?”
I can feel his body stiffen, and his larger-than-life smile washes away, leaving him with the sad, pained face I’d hoped to never see again.
“No, that was not my intention.”
Sad eyes look at me, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. What did I do wrong?
I watch as he strains to swallow before looking away.
“I was only kidding, Marshall.”
He stays silent, staring past me at the wall.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask.
He releases his arm from under my head and gets up, immediately pulling on his briefs. He scoops up my clothes and sets them next to me.
“You did nothing wrong, Beth. You’re perfect.” He leans over and kisses my head. “It’s me that was wrong.” He stands. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Of course not.”
He turns and walks toward the hallway. His confident posture has been replaced with hunched shoulders and a low head.
“But, Marshall, wait …” I hear the bathroom door in the hallway click shut. Why was he wrong? Does he regret having sex with me?
I jump out of bed, feeling the sudden urge to be sick. I grab my clothes and run to my bathroom. I kneel down on the cool tile, lean my elbows on the toilet seat, and rest my heavy head in my hands. My stomach clenches tighter as the room begins to spin. The doctor had told me I may experience some dizziness from my concussion, but I didn’t really expect it to happen. A drop of sweat rolls down my nose as I breathe deeply, trying to relax, praying I hold in my breakfast.
As a throbbing pain pulses in the side of my head, a vivid image comes to the forefront of my mind: a set of beady little eyes looking at me with so much rage and anger that my hair stands up on end. All the pain, fear, and loneliness come rushing back while my guts twist, wanting to purge, but I’m determined not to let it happen.
I rise on wobbly legs, tightly grabbing the counter top. My naked body trembles as I turn on the faucet, splash cold water on my face, and reluctantly look back at the pale image in the mirror. I need to get it together. I need this day with Marshall. I put down the toilet lid and have a seat, pulling my clothes on with unsteady hands. A knock at the door startles me.
“Beth?”
I’m instantly afraid he will come in and see me shaken, half-dressed, and ghost white.
“Yes?”
“I really hate to say this, but I just got a call from Aubrey. My niece Emma is sick. Aubrey’s car won’t start, and her husband, Rich, is out of town. She needs me to pick Emma up from school. She just lives a few miles from here, so I shouldn’t be long. You should come lock the door behind me.”
I don’t want him to see me right now. I need a chance to get some color back in my face and regain my composure.
“You go ahead and go, Marshall. I’ll come out and lock the door in a few minutes.”
Thankfully, he agrees to go without me following him out.
Once I know he’s gone, I make my way out to the living room to lock the front door before tying up my hair and taking a shower. I work quickly, feeling on edge being home alone for only the second time since that dreadful night. Every little noise I hear from my bathroom window makes me jump; a garbage truck passing by, a horn honking, and even a child’s joyful laughter have my heart thumping. The pounding in my head slowly subsides, and I begin to calm down just as I finish getting ready.
Marshall sends me a message saying he’s sorry, but his sister really needs him and he has to stick around for a while longer.
What about me? I don’t want to be alone. Why does his sister get to have him when I’m the one who really needs him? I slam my phone down in frustration. It’s not long before I realize I’ve cracked my screen. Heat rises to my face, and my hands begin to tremble as my frustration quickly turns to anger. I turn to kick the couch and stub my toe. I go down to the floor, clenching my teeth, doing everything I can to hold in the tears that are starting. Through the cracked screen, I text Marshall, telling him not to come back, that my sister has come over, and that I’m feeling too tired anyway. I set down my phone and go crawl into bed, covering my head, feeling more alone than I have ever felt in my life.
***
Thursday, June 10
I awake from what little sleep I got last night. I was startled by every crack, creak, and car driving by. I hate this uneasy feeling. I drag my butt out to the phone I’d ignored all night. The first text is from Krystal asking how my big date was going, twisting the knot further into my belly. Next was Rose texting me to call her, a voicemail from my mom checking in, and, last but not least, two text messages from Marshall asking me to call him and saying that he wishes to see me before he heads back to Minneapolis this morning. I send a reassuring text message to mom and Rose telling them I’m doing great and I’ll be working all day on my interior design portfolio for my meeting, so I need to be left alone. I know I can’t focus on work today, and I’ve never been one to lie, but I just need some time alone. Then I text Marshall that I will be home all day and that he may stop by if he wants. I’m not even sure if I want him here, but I want to know why he chose his sister over me yesterday.
Marshall looks as tired as I am when I meet him at my front door. A pang of heartbreak sweeps over me as I think of what might have kept him awake last night. Was it thoughts of me that kept him awake,
or could it have been something else? I decide to head out to the back deck, needing some fresh air. Marshall follows. I take a seat and stare out at the single maple tree in my backyard, the birdfeeder station hanging from a lower branch—a housewarming gift from my parents. Marshall takes a seat at the table to my left.
I don’t intend to speak first. I’m not the one who left someone clearly in need. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s leaning beyond me, so I’m able to examine him without his knowing. He lowers his head and rubs the back of his neck. I can’t help but want to go over to him, rub his neck for him, and kiss away the pain that has clearly surfaced. Maybe by alleviating some of his pain, I can alleviate some of mine, the hurt and anger I feel for being tossed to the side after the best sex of my life, left alone and scared, the second his sister calls. I should find his loyalty to his family honorable, but right now, I just can’t find it in me.
Finally, he speaks. “Beth, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did.”
What? That’s why he’s sorry? Not for leaving me alone? Not for finding his sister’s needs more important than mine? He actually regrets having sex with me? I look at him, puzzled. My mixed-up emotions have me scrambling for words, words I can’t find.
“When I said I wanted to take care of you, that wasn’t what I meant,” he says, shaking his head.
“Marshall, I was only joking about that.”
“I shouldn’t have let it get that far, Beth.”
My throat tightens. “Last time I checked, there were two adults involved here.”
He stands and steps in front of me. “I should have waited and treated you like you deserve to be treated.”
My eyes snap up to his. “And how is that? Like I’m a fragile little child who can’t make decisions for herself?”
He places one hand on either side of my head to keep my eyes locked. “No. Like someone who has just been through a great ordeal and needs some time to process it.”
“Since when did you get to decide what I need? If you haven’t noticed, Marshall, I’m doing really well, thank you.” Another lie. They seem to be coming too easily for me. The anger I felt earlier begins to boil to the surface. I move his hands away from my face and stand, facing the deck railing. “Maybe you should just go.”
He comes up behind me. “No, Beth. I don’t want to leave you like this.”
I turn to him with piercing eyes. “What, like you left me yesterday? You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.”
“I didn’t want to go, but my sister really needed my help—”
I jump in. “What, and I didn’t?”
The pain in his eyes should stop me here, but I’m too furious. “I get it, Marshall. You got what you wanted from me; now please just go.” I point to the door.
His eyes look to me, filled with all the hurt I’ve just caused. “I really hope you don’t mean that.”
I know I don’t, but I can’t bring myself to say so. My throat is so tight with regret I can hardly breathe. My eyes travel down to the floor.
“Whether you believe it or not, Beth, I do care about you.”
I close my eyes tightly, fighting to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. Tears splash one by one to the floor. Why am I hurting him? What is wrong with me? How can I be so cruel to the man I feel like I’m falling in love with?
“I needed you,” I say and look up, but he is already gone.
Chapter 17
I could swear I see him wipe a tear from his eye before he drives away. I reluctantly let him go, afraid this new, unstable side of me might hurt him further. I feel weak. I am weak for letting what happened to me ruin my life. Knowing how much worse it could have been, I should be thankful I wasn’t raped, taken, or even killed, but here I am, being a selfish lunatic, thinking only of myself. After all that Marshall has been through, here I go blaming him for helping his sister and leaving me. It’s not his fault. He’s better off without me. I spend the remainder of my day in bed, and my tears don’t subside until my pounding headache forces me to sleep.
***
Saturday, June 12
I awaken with accelerated breath. My T-shirt clings to every inch it covers, damp with sweat. The matted strands of red hair that cling to my neck make me choke as the dream comes back to me in full force.
A set of hands are wound tightly around my neck. The crushing pressure on my windpipe makes my throat burn and my eyes sting. I’m willing to fight, but my hands won’t move. Those cold, beady eyes stare down at me, laughing over and over as they did during my dream at the hospital. This time, the real panic sets in when I realize I’m unable to move. I can’t feel my body. It’s almost like I’m nothing but a head. I can’t blink; my eyes are focused on the bright sky that’s getting increasingly brighter until, all at once, it becomes a blur. His words are muffled, but I can still hear them: “Hey there, Firecracker. Remember how I told you you’d pay?” I think I’m dying, or is it that I’m already dead?
The heat I had felt only moments ago turns to chill. I wrap myself up in my comforter and cover my head. My body convulses as though I’m crying, but tears do not come. I’m dried up, tapped out, and all alone. I need someone to hold me. I need Marshall to hold me. I feel safe in his arms. I’m pathetic for feeling like I need him so much, for feeling like nothing will ever be the same for me since the first time he held me, for thinking he is the puzzle piece that has been missing all of my life. I have always felt an emptiness within me, and never until Marshall have I ever felt like that emptiness could be filled, but here I am, alone, deservedly so. My pain and my burdens I must carry myself. I’m letting a little thing like some bumps and bruises take me down. I’m weak and pitiful. I’m not even worthy of love.
After a warm shower and a cup of coffee, I’m as prepared as I can be for Mom and Rose when they come over with lunch. I did my best to cover the dark circles under my eyes and iced my swollen eyelids until they hurt. I’m not sure at this point who I’m trying to convince more that I’m okay, me or my mom and Rose.
We have our lunch out on my deck. It’s another spectacular June day that until my sister points it out, I don’t even notice. Mom is all enthusiastic, talking details for next weekend’s birthday bash for my sister, my cousins Bo and Laura, and me. My mind wanders to Marshall. I wonder how the party would be with him there, playing in my family’s beanbag-toss tournament; Marshall and I fighting against Rose and Derek for the championship; Mom fussing over Marshall as she does Derek, making sure he has a good time, asking him if he needs another drink or more food; I’d even bet she’d ask him to stay the night. Rose and I always sleep in our childhood bedrooms on our birthday party night, a tradition I’ve always loved, although the past two years have been a sad reminder of how alone I am. Derek would agree to stay, while Gavin would leave, informing me that he found it silly to sleep in my full-size bed when we had a king-sized bed at home. Marshall had been willing to sleep on a small couch for me, but Gavin couldn’t even grant me this one wish.
On more than one occasion during our lunch, I catch my mom and Rose looking at me like they’re studying me and coming to a conclusion. I do my best to ignore it. Staying quiet is easy since I’m so tired.
“Are you feeling all right, Liz?” my mom asks before they go.
Rose adds her two cents. “Yeah, Lizzie, you don’t look so hot.”
“Wow, thanks, guys. I’m doing just fine, thanks.” I reach past them to open up the door, eager to be left alone again. The words leave my mouth before I think: “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
My mom and my sister both stare at me with wide eyes. I have never spoken this way to anyone, especially not anyone in my family.
“Sorry, guys. I’m a bit tired, I guess. I just need a little nap, and then I promise I will be good as new.”
Both of them are clearly reluctant to leave. I reassure them that I am doing well and tell them not to worry while I shoo them o
ut the door.
After my mom and sister go, I feel an unfamiliar sense of relief. I feel like those two have me under a microscope. I can now understand what Marshall meant when he said he didn’t want to tell me about his wife because he was afraid I would treat him differently. Nobody, including Marshall, seems to be treating me the same. Why don’t they get that that is exactly what I need, to feel normal again?
Per my request, my mom had brought me my guitar. I’ve been longing for the pure, powerful energy I feel when my guitar and I find perfect harmony together. Although I know I should be working on my nightclub design presentation for next week, I can’t help but take a seat with my guitar. I tell myself that I will work diligently on it tomorrow.
I spend hours belting out songs I used to sing years ago when I played. I’ve missed the sound my fingers make as they glide along the strings in between notes. I love the way a soft chord can cry so gently while a harder one can hit you so fiercely you can feel it in your chest. It’s comforting, like talking to a great friend. Well, I have missed you, dear friend.
Eventually, my sore fingers won’t allow me to play anymore. I fold up the paper filled with new lyrics I jotted down as they came to me today and stuff it into the front pocket of my guitar case so I can work on them another day. I’ve always loved coming up with my own songs. My favorite lyrics today remind me of how Marshall makes me feel.
Chapter 18
Tuesday, June 15
Days of horrible dreams, loneliness, and boredom crawl by, and I’ve finally had enough. Eleven days have passed since I was attacked; it’s time to get on with my life. I call Krystal and ask for a night out, wishing to regain some sense of my life when I had less time on my hands and a simpler day, when I didn’t have moments I feared being alone, feelings that have left me raw and vulnerable. I need to get my mind off of Marshall for a while. The desire to be near him and feel protected like I had when he stayed with me is all I can think about.