Chasing Wishes

by Simonenko, Nadia

  The room goes silent at my retort and everyone's eyes turn toward us. Isaac's mother stares disdainfully down at me, and I can't help but feel that she's growing taller with each passing second.

  "No," she says firmly. "Isaac didn't invite you at all, you little liar."

  Suddenly, she grabs me tightly by the shoulders, and her long nails dig painfully into my skin through the fabric of my dress as she shoves me sharply forward.

  "Get out," she hisses, marching me toward the front door. "Get the hell out of my house."

  "I told you," I yell over my shoulder, "Isaac invited—"

  "He did no such thing," she interrupts me with a snarl as she pulls me toward the door. "Gregory put you up to this, didn’t he? He just can’t let it go, can he?"

  Sarah snickers behind me, and her evil-hearted amusement quickly spreads to the rest of my classmates.

  "Go back to my darling ex-husband and tell him to drop dead," Isaac’s mother hisses into my ear as she shoves me out the door. "If I ever see you here again, I’ll have you jailed until you rot."

  "But..."

  "Now get out!" she hisses, and then she slams the door in my face.

  For one brief moment, the entire world is silent.

  Then the laughter starts inside.

  I’m so stunned, so upset beyond comprehension that I can’t even find the strength to get angry. I want to yell at them, to curse at them through the door, to do something—anything—to get even with them, but I can’t. I can’t do a goddamned thing.

  I can still hear the laughter as I walk slowly toward the street, but somehow, instead of making me angry, this time it breaks me. I don’t even have money for a taxi home, but now that I’ve been thrown out, I couldn’t call one anyway.

  "I hate you," I whisper as I walk slowly down the narrow highway shoulder. "I hate all of you."

  I’m more than ten miles from home—a broken Cinderella without a carriage alone on the highway shoulder—and these heels are already starting to hurt my feet. A ten-

  mile walk ought to be plenty of time for the tears to dry up and the usual fiery hatred to replace them, but I can’t make them stop today. Tears keep blinding me as I stumble along the road, and I can feel myself starting to break down.

  This was Isaac’s big plan, wasn’t it? He found the ultimate way to hurt me, to cut me deeper than anyone else could. I hate him. I hate everything about him.

  I hate... I hate that I liked him.

  I start to cry even harder, and then I crouch down on the shoulder, rocking slowly back and forth in place as my misery overwhelms me.

  If this was his plan, it worked. I’d rather die than go back to that school on Monday.

  wi

  wi

  wi

  Chapter XX

  Irene

  An ear-shattering buzz wrenches me out of my dream and back into my own room. I was sitting beside Terrence in his limo just moments ago, but now I'm lying in the darkness beside his stupid dog. It's not quite the way I'd hoped the dream would end, to be frank. Columbus doesn't even react to the buzzing, of course. It’d take a thunderstorm of sausages to wake him up, I think.

  What the hell is that horrible noise?

  My head spins as I rub the sleep from my eyes, and a flashing red light from the bedside table burns holes in my retinas as I stare groggily at it. Bright red light flashing at me... it means something but I'm too dumb and sleepy to figure it out.

  My brain finally wakes up and puts all the parts together.

  It’s the emergency intercom, stupid!

  I'm suddenly awake and alert again, all traces of sleep burnt away as I realize what the flashing light means. It means that Terrence needs me. Now.

  I leap out of bed, slap the button to silence the intercom, and grab my green flannel pajama pants from the foot of the bed. My old apartment was always so cold at night—I couldn’t exactly afford high heating bills—and I still haven’t gotten used to how warm Terrence keeps his mansion. The old metal radiator beside my bed practically steams up the windows as it pops and sizzles all through the night.

  I race barefoot down the corridor, lit only by the moonlight streaming in the windows and a single nightlight. What could Terrence be calling me for so early in the morning? God, what time is it, even? I didn’t think to check the clock. He’s lying on the carpet in my mind, somehow unable to get up again, and I sprint even faster to the end of the hall and throw open the door to his room.

  Terrence sits at the edge of his bed wearing nothing but a pair of tight gray boxer briefs, and he looks out toward the balcony window as the moon shines brightly outside. His glowing red alarm clock ticks up another minute as I stand breathless in the doorway—it’s just before five in the morning.

  "Are you okay?" I ask, hurrying to his side. "Sorry I didn’t come sooner—I was asleep and the intercom didn’t wake me up at first. What do you need?"

  I gently lay my hand on his shoulder, and the instant I touch him, he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me across him and down onto the bed. I let out a surprised cry as I fall back onto the bed, and Terrence leans in close, pressing me down on the bed and holding my wrists firmly but gently on either side of my head.

  "I need you, Irene," he whispers, his voice low and filled with desire just like it was in my dream. "I need you right this second."

  "Terrence, I..."

  My voice trails off into silence. All my words keep hiding and refusing to let me say them. I was going to protest, I think—to tell him to get off of me and let me go—but I don’t think I actually want him to.

  What I really want is for him to kiss me like he did in my dream.

  "I’ve been lying here for hours, Irene," he whispers. "Just lying and thinking, dreaming about you all night long."

  He swallows hard and then leans in close as if to kiss me. His lips come close—so close 821ing aboutthat I can feel his breath against my skin—and it’s all I can do not to shake in... is this excitement? Fear? I don’t know what to call what I’m feeling, but the one thing I’m certain of is that he has my complete attention right now.

  "Irene... I thought what I felt downstairs wasn’t real," he tells me. "When Charlotte interrupted us and killed the mood, I thought it was the alcohol that brought it on."

  I shake my head, my pulse quickening and butterflies starting to flutter at his words.

  "It was real for me, Terrence," I whisper. "I’d have let you have me right there."

  The second sentence comes unbidden to my lips but I'm certain that it's true. I'd have let him take me right there in the foyer if he wanted to, and I'd have welcomed every moment of it.

  "I... I know it was real now because I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind all night! I’ve been sober for hours, and I still want you," he says, releasing one of my wrists from his strong grip and gently caressing my cheek instead. "It’s been years since I’ve felt so alive, and it’s all you, Irene."

  Something about the longing in his voice is both scary and thrilling at the same time. He can’t even see me, has no idea what I look like beyond what I’ve told him, and yet somehow he still wants me. The intensity in his eyes, the quick, shallow breaths... everything about him is turning me on right now.

  And that’s what makes it so terrifying. If I let myself, I’d actually have sex with him.

  "We shouldn't do this," I whisper, but my body is waking up and ignoring my mind all the same. My free hand reaches up and nervously touches his shirtless, muscular torso, hovering tentatively at first as if afraid before finally making contact. I linger on the strong contours of his abs, tracing his perfect body with my fingertips, and then I rest my hand gently against his chest. I can feel the pounding of his pulse against my palm—his heart is racing just as quickly as mine right now.

  Terrence’s eyes are closed, but I can still feel his desire in his tight shoulders and see it on his lips. He stares at me with his eyes shut as his imagination paints me in his mind. Even though I’m fully cl
othed—even though he can’t even see me—I’ve never felt so bare, so exposed and vulnerable before than now, lying beneath him as he gazes at my imaginary beauty.

  "Everything about you excites me, Irene," he whispers, his voice shaking with longing. "Every word you say, every last thing you do... I see it all in my mind and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before."

  He caresses my cheek again and my legs start to shake. I can’t do this. I want to so badly, but I can’t! He’s Terrence in my heart, but in my mind, he’s one of my mother’s customers and I’m just like her.

  "Let me up, please," I squeak, my voice barely audible through my fear. I want him, but I’m too scared to let myself have him. He’s my boss—I can’t let myself make love to my employer, no matter how much I want to, no matter how much my body screams for me to give in to the pleasure.

  He nods slowly and then releases his grip on my hand, sits up and pulls away from me.

  "I'm sorry," he whispers, turning away as I stand up and straighten out my tank-top. "I shouldn't have done that aveth=to you. Please forgive me."

  He sounds sad at my decision, but behind that sadness I catch a different, almost heartbreaking meaning. He’s sad that I rejected him, but he’s even more upset because he thinks he’s hurt me somehow. He thinks that he’s the problem. God, he couldn’t be more wrong if he tried to be.

  The way the moonlight illuminates half of Terrence’s face and blankets the other in shadows is stunning beyond words. The moonlight streams in the window and makes his muscles stand out in sharp contrast, rippling bands of dark and light so gorgeous, so sexy that it’s all I can do not to kiss him again.

  "Terrence..." I start, but my voice catches in my throat. I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this. If he was anyone else in the world, yes, but not my boss. If I take this step, I’m no better than my mother.

  "Yes?" he asks.

  What did I want to tell him? I don't even know. I have no idea why I spoke up.

  Yes, I do. I totally do. I'm just scared to say it.

  "You and I... um..." I stammer, knowing what I want to say but unable to find the words. I stutter, flail in frustration for the words I want to say, and just as I’m certain they’re going to elude me forever, I finally find them.

  "I don't work for you tonight, okay?" I blurt out.

  He looks at me confused, as if he doesn't understand what I mean.

  "Terrence, I'm not your employee tonight," I tell him again, inching closer to the bed.

  "Irene, I don't—"

  "Say it," I urge him as I close the gap between us and trail my fingertips down the rock-hard curve of his shoulders. "It's just Terrence and Irene tonight—no bosses and employees, no jobs or paychecks, just us."

  His eyes widen in comprehension. He finally understands me.

  "It's just us tonight," he whispers, and before he can say another word, I crash my lips into his, setting free all the passion and longing pent up inside me, and I push him down onto the bed.

  Terrence freezes up as if in shock for one brief moment, but then as he realizes what's happening, he suddenly rolls me over in one quick, strong movement so that I'm beneath him again. His lips find mine, kissing me so hard, so passionately that he almost bites me.

  I wrap my arms around his back and pull him down against me, a delightful haze forming in my mind as the scent of his cologne intoxicates me. I hate the scent of men's cologne normally, but it's somehow very different to smell it on a man with the body of a Greek god as he kisses you. Who knew?

  Terrence grabs my hands in his, pressing me down against the bed beneath him as he gently kisses first my lower lip and then both in a full, firm kiss packed with so much desire that I can actually feel it. His tongue parts my lips, slowly, softly exploring, and then my tongue finds his as the kiss runs deeper and deeper.

  "Don't move an inch," he whispers, gasping for air as we break away from our kiss. "I want to touch you first."

  I lie still beneath him with my arms still stretched out at my sides and savor the opportunity to ogle him. I'm all but salivating at how the shifting shadows from the curtains make his muscles look in the moonlight, and his green eyes almost look like they're glowing tonight. His ass loot. . I'm allks so incredible in those boxer briefs that it's all I can do not to grab it and squeeze.

  He closes his eyes and releases me from his powerful grip, touching me gently on the palms of my hands. Slowly, inch by inch, his hands trail up my arms, up to my elbows, and then reach my shoulders. A shiver runs through me as his fingertips brush over the string straps of my tank, and then I take in a sharp breath as his fingers follow the straps downward, stopping just above the curve of my breasts.

  "It's gray," I whisper to him. "I'm wearing a tight gray tank-top—a cotton-spandex blend that clings perfectly to my body—with narrow string straps. It has a silver sheen in the moonlight. It feels smooth to the touch, doesn't it?"

  He nods silently in reply. His delicious looking lips slowly part and a look of awe spreads across his face as I take his hands in mine and slowly drag them down and over my breasts. He takes over now that I've invited him in, and his hands slowly, delicately explore me through my shirt, feeling every inch of me, cupping my breasts in his hands. My nipples form peaks at his touch and stand out against the sheer fabric of my shirt, and I let out a soft moan and squirm against the bed as he runs his fingers around and around them in slow circles, teasing me, driving me wild with desire. He's awfully good at this for someone who can't see a damned thing, and it's all I can do not to cry out in pleasure as he gently rolls them between his fingers. I can feel my body wake up at his beautiful torture, and my skin flushes hot as he leans in and kisses me again.

  His lips seek mine out, playing, almost suffocating me in the most amazing way as his fingertips continue their downward exploration. His hands trace my figure and set alight every nerve along the way, and then as they reach my hips, grab me firmly and flip me over so that I'm on top with my legs straddling him.

  "You have no idea how beautiful you look to me," Terrence whispers, pulling me in close and pressing his lips to mine again. I have no idea how he sees me in his mind—no idea how close his image is to reality—but I can feel his excitement standing taut against his gray boxer briefs, pressing against me between my legs, and I know he likes what he's seeing.

  I lean in against him, pressing my breasts to his bare, muscular chest as I kiss him with mounting passion, first slowly and then firmer and with greater urgency as desire burns brighter and brighter inside me. He rolls his hips against me, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me down against him so that I can clearly feel him through my clothing, hard and erect. Electricity arcs upward through my body and escapes through my lips as a delighted moan, and my reaction pushes Terrence over the edge—the final straw breaking not his back, but his self-control.

  Without a word, Terrence grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me down against him, crashing his lips into mine as he holds me close against him. I can barely breathe from how tightly he's holding me and I love every second of it. He holds me close with one powerful arm, his tongue playing with mine in a dizzying kiss while his free hand yanks first the left strap of my top down my arm and then the second. My shirt pools around my waist as my breasts fall free, and the touch of his chest against my peaked nipples sets my mind on fire with longing.

  "I want you, Irene... tell me I can have you," he growls. His voice is low and hoarse with desire, but his tone asks for my permission all the same.

  "I want you too," I gasp as his hand finds its way beneath my pajama pants and touches me through the thin material of my underwear. I more thanr. div want him now—after feeling his touch so close to me, tracing back and forth between my legs, I need him.

  The rational part of my mind checks out for a smoking break and leaves the animal desire burning inside me to take control. It doesn't matter how bad an idea this is anymore. It doesn't matter that Terrence is my boss—we can face that in the
morning. My body burns with desire, and all that matters in this moment is to have him for myself, to hold him close and feel him inside me.

  "Say it," he repeats, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of my underwear and forcing a whisper to my lips as he touches me directly. "Say you're mine, Irene."

  I can't take this anymore. In one quick movement, I yank my top, pajama pants and underwear down over my hips, slide them down my legs and then drop them all to the floor.

  "I'm yours, Terrence," I whisper, and I pull his briefs down, freeing him from their confines and letting them join the rest of my clothes beside the bed. He stands erect and ready for me, but as I tease him, rolling my hips back and forth and trembling as I feel him so close to me, he wraps his arms around me, pulls me in close and takes control.