by K J Bell
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I purred, glowing in his thoughtfulness.
He winked, his blue eyes gleaming. “Not yet, open it,” he instructed, turning the locket face up.
The locket opened in the middle, splitting the wings. As I folded over each wing, I was in awe with what he had done for me. There was a single photo of my parents on their wedding day, the same one I kept in a frame. Tears I had been fighting back, slid joyfully down my cheeks, thankful for the warmhearted gift.
“I love it,” I cried, hugging Brent close. He did this for me before he knew we would be together, when he believed Reese to be my Paramour. It was an act of unconditional love, and consequences didn’t matter. He loved me and wanted to show it, no matter what would change. Lifting up my hair, I had Brent clasp the silver chain behind my neck and the pendant dangled on my chest.
“Now, always here,” he said, adjusting the pendent, then placing a palm over my heart, his touch sending tingles through me.
Brent softly kissed the corner of my mouth, then moved slowly to my cheek and neck, leaving a trail of kisses. I wound my fingers around the back of his head and pulled him close. When he lowered me to the bed, my breath hitched. He slowly dragged his index finger down, starting between my brow, on top of my nose, across my lips and over my chin, stopping briefly to kiss my neck again. His finger continued trailing down my chest, coming to rest on my belly. I was out of breath, and felt throbbing between my thighs in places I had never felt before. Brent slid his hand around my back and rolled me on my side to face him. He continued kissing my neck, up to my chin, then rested his forehead on mine.
“I love you, Claire Blake. I think I’ve always loved you,” he professed.
My lips trembled and I licked them. “I love you too, Brent.”
Brent continued to gaze lovingly at me, his blue eyes to my green, blending like tropical waters. His hand still rested on my back and I felt the warmth beneath it. Slowly he slid his fingers upwards, under the bottom of my pajama-shirt, up my bare back, through the top of my shirt, squeezing firmly behind my neck and then back down. I thought I might explode. I swung my leg over his. My hips started to grind into him as though they had a mind of their own, matching his movements and I arched into him. He continued caressing my neck, kissing me softly. I whimpered when he brought his hand to my hip and across my belly. He groaned quietly and gently continued exploring my body with his hands. He gripped the back of my head firmly and pulled me close to him. Less than an inch separated our lips. I saw love in his eyes. I could feel it. I believed it. I exhaled softly and squeezed his shoulders tightly.
He took my mouth in his, and I parted my lips, wanting to feel the warmth inside of him. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. Oh my. It felt amazing and I craved more of it. He shifted the two of us so he was on top of me again. Putting his elbows on each side of me, he supported his weight and allowed me to catch my breath. Feeling brave, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his body close. He brushed some wet strands of hair away from my cheeks and kissed my forehead.
“God, I love you,” he exhaled breathlessly.
Giggling shyly, I put both my hands behind his head, tugging him to me, meeting his mouth, urging him to kiss me again. Our tongues met, sweeping and stroking, absorbing each other’s warmth, his scent intoxicating. I continued, thirsting for him.
I had heard high school girls talk about being with their boyfriend this way, but their stories were nothing like what I was experiencing with Brent. They always talked about how awkward and self-conscious they felt, and how their boyfriends were inattentive and clumsy. Brent was neither. He was passionate, knowing exactly how to move and what to say. I didn’t feel awkward. I felt beautiful and precious, our bodies colliding so naturally. Everything about being with him felt perfect. The more we moved, the braver I became. I dug my fingers into his skin, dragging them roughly down his body, heading to his backside. A low groan escaped his throat when my fingers reached their destination, pressing into him.
“Oh God, Claire,” he groaned and abruptly removed himself. He settled on his back, lying next to me, with his arm over his eyes trying to catch his breath. “Wow,” he sighed.
My voice was unsteady as I tried to speak.
“Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to conceal my disappointment.
Brent turned and faced me, resting on his elbow. “Because if I waited any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to stop,” he confessed.
“And that would be a problem because?’ I asked.
“Ahhh, Christ… It’s just not right.” Brent stressed his point in a way that made me feel small, like I should be crawling in a hole.
Rejection had a death grip on my heart and squeezed furiously. Oh God, he didn’t have the same desire for me that I had for him. I was ready to give myself to him, but clearly, Brent was not ready to reciprocate.
“You don’t want to?” I tried to smile but my effort was weak, and I was sure the word, insecure, was tattooed across my face.
“Oh Jesus, Claire, I want to,” Brent said huskily. “Believe me, I want to. Just…not here, not like this.”
I bit my lip. “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.
He placed a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his.
“You deserve more, Claire,” Brent explained. His reassuring smile worked, making me feel better.
My body still wanted Brent, but my heart understood it was ingrained in him to provide more for me. I placed my forehead against his and my senses were heightened. Visions of us being together intimately were circling my brain. Fingers trailing over every inch of exposed skin, my emotions raced through me feverishly. Our bodies and minds were joined together, providing us with intense physical pleasure, while outside of the vision, only our foreheads touched. I felt a layer of sweat between us, beading like condensation on the outside of a glass, trickling one drop at a time. Our bodies hummed softly. Feeling as though time was standing still, I relished every moment of the thrilling experience. The pictures I witnessed were causing my body to shudder, and I was sieged by uncontrollable tingling. Even my toes curled. With one long sudden breath, my body trembled and then went limp, completely fulfilled. Brent was struggling to catch his breath next to me. His rapid breathing suggested he had the same experience. Thick silence filled the room as we recovered from what happened.
“I felt it too,” Brent finally whispered, still breathless.
When I caught my breath enough to speak, I finally asked, “What was that?”
He nestled into my side, resting his arm across my stomach, his eyes locked on mine. “I think our seals just made love,” Brent theorized, sending my heart into overdrive, beating so fast, I thought it might jump out of my chest.
“Oh,” I squealed, with giddy excitement. If that’s what love-making felt like, it was hard to imagine anything better, nor comprehend how it could ever be described as awkward or clumsy.
Brent rolled to his back again, lifting his arm. “Here,” he said, beckoning me to fill the nook between his arm and chest. He rolled us, cuddling me close from behind, spooning me. I realized until that very moment, I had never fully understood the term.
“You are mine, Claire,” Brent whispered possessively in my ear.
His claim to me should have sent me running, but I was content to stay. I smiled.
“Forever,” I whispered back and drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep.
When I opened my eyes it was still dark outside. Brent was sound asleep next to me. I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him. Needing a drink, I headed to the kitchen to grab a complementary bottle of water. It was almost 5:00 am. Then I spotted the letter resting on the counter – a piece of paper folded in half with my name on it.
Claire,
I can’t stay. I have to sort this out. I’m not mad. Stay safe.
Love, Reese
By coincidence, the keys to the Audi were laying on the counter next to the note, daring me to leave and go
after him. Reese had to be going to his parents to confront his mother, or worse, Logan. What if he was in trouble? Brent would never allow me to go to him, but knowing I must, I scribbled on the note just underneath Reese’s words.
My Dearest Brent,
I’m sorry, but I had to.
I love you, Claire
I slipped back into the bedroom, quietly retrieving my clothes and sneakers, then returned to the front room to change. I took Brent’s cell phone just in case I needed it, having left mine at the beach house in our rush to leave. Taking my time, I opened the front door, careful not to make too much noise. I froze momentarily and considered if I should wake Brent and tell him about Reese leaving. I decided he was too protective, and would talk me out of going. He would be angry but I would have to deal with that later.
CHAPTER 13
“Our soul mate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we’re two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we’ve found the right person. Our soul mate is the one who makes life come to life.” – Richard Bach
When I reached the Audi, I realized I didn’t even know where Reese lived, so I set the GPS for Northfield, just over two hours away. After ninety minutes, I pulled over and started searching the web on Brent’s phone. I found a listing for Dave Philips, assuming it was Reese’s father. Setting the GPS to the address from the listing, I hoped I would find Reese there. I prayed that he was not in any danger.
Pulling back onto the highway, Brent’s phone rang startling me. The name on the display made me anxious. It was Reese. I fumbled with the phone briefly before finally hitting the talk button. “Reese, oh thank God. Where are you?”
The voice on the other end of the line was cold and controlling and definitely not Reese. “Pull the car over and wait for me,” Brent instructed, spelling out each word. Clearly, he was angry. Reese must have left his phone at the hotel. Damn!
“I can’t, Brent. I have to find him,” I said adamantly.
“Goddammit, Claire. Pull the car over and tell me where you are.” Brent’s voice chilled me to bone.
Knowing Brent would stop me from finding Reese if I pulled over and waited for him, I decided to keep driving.
“No,” I replied, and hit the end button before my bravery evaporated.
The phone rang again and again. Brent was trying to get through and then it whistled. I looked at the screen and read the text.
Quit being so goddam stubborn, and stop the fucking car, Claire.
I didn’t bother to respond because now I was angry, too. It infuriated me when he acted this way, taking the controlling protector thing a little too far. It bothered me he used the “F” word so often, and I needed to speak with him about it soon. After several minutes, the phone whistled again.
Stop the car, please. This is dangerous.
His words were softer but I still didn’t respond. For a third time, a whistle alerted his text.
Claire, I’m really worried. Just tell me where you’re going.
I considered telling him, thinking he must be too far behind to stop me. Instead, I replied.
I love you.
Again the phone whistled – one desperate word.
Please.
I totally caved.
Reese’s house.
Thankfully Brent didn’t text again, but I worried about how upset he would be when he arrived at Reese’s house. I reasoned it would take a while for him to get there, giving him time to calm down a little.
I made my way into Northfield, and turned down the dead end street to Reese’s house. It was a quaint, khaki-green ranch house with a white farmer’s porch. A traditional colonial stone wall bordered the perimeter – screaming New England charm. I turned into the driveway and parked behind a red truck. Exiting the Audi, I heard footsteps on the street, and when I turned, his stare was ice cold.
Brent was at my side instantly, griping my elbow, and pulling me away from the house. I gaped at him. How did he get here so quickly?
“Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here? I’ve been freaking out, Claire,” he seethed, releasing my arm, his frigid glare freezing me in place while he waited for me to answer.
His words were like ice-water through my veins, running cold and slow. I wanted to speak, but I was still trying to figure out how he got there before me. I was confused but finally managed a sentence. “I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t let me come,” I admitted, folding my hands together, rocking back on my heels.
“You’re damn right I wouldn’t have.” His voice broke when he said it. I felt how angry he was, not because I left without him, but rather it was my lack of trust that hurt him.
“Claire, you need to understand that it causes me physical pain to be away from you. It makes me weak. I need you close to me. Don’t ever leave me again,” he pleaded, blue eyes boring into me, increasing my guilt.
I was irritated with his harsh words. He was being a little dramatic, but I did feel responsible.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I’m here now, and I need to find Reese. He’s hurting, Brent, and I am afraid for him. I just need to know if he’s inside, and if he’s okay.”
Brent gave in, aware of the desperation in my voice.
“Five minutes, Claire! That’s it. I mean it. I’ll carry you out of that house if I have to. Five minutes,” he reiterated.
Remembering how effortlessly he tossed me over his shoulder at the beach, I knew he was serious. The memory made me smile. “Okay,” I agreed.
When we reached the farmers porch, Brent stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Go ahead, I’ll wait right here. Five minutes,” he reminded me, leaning against the post, his jaw set firm, still angry with me.
“Five minutes,” I assured him, and then whispered, “thank you.”
I took the steps up to the door, and started to knock, when I noticed it was ajar. Pushing it open, I entered a mud room with shoes and jackets strewn about. There was another door to the side opened a crack, and I heard Reese inside.
Thank God.
Approaching the second door, I froze when I heard Reese’s dad speak. “Reese, don’t be mad at your mother. I knew, son. I’ve always known.” His dad was spewing forth a confession and I leaned in closer, listening for Reese’s reaction.
After a long pause, I heard Reese. “What, you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell, son. I married your mother knowing that you weren’t mine because I loved her, like I’ve never loved anyone,” Reese’s dad explained.
I listened, careful not to make any noise as he continued filling Reese in.
“At the time, I didn’t know who your father was. I didn’t care. When you were born, I had my suspicions about Wes. Your mother looked at him like they shared a secret. I knew it was a look you expected to see, when a woman looked at the father of her child.”
There was a long pause.
“It wasn’t a look she gave me. I recognized how nervous she was around him, and chose to ignore it. Your mother admitting who your father was wouldn’t have changed how I felt about either one of you. After I discovered your connection to Claire, I was certain I had it all figured out. It all added up,” he concluded. I quietly moved closer, stopping just short of putting my ear to the door.
Both of them came into view. Knowing the two of them were not related, I was surprised by how much Reese actually looked like Mr. Phillips, his dad. They shared the same sandy blonde hair and their build was similar. It was no wonder Reese never had any doubts this man was his father.
Reese was pacing the floor methodically.
“God Dad, you didn’t say anything then. She’s my sister. What if we had ended up together? That’s disgusting. You should have told me,” he gagged, stopping abruptly, staring at his father.
Mr. Phillip’s was looking down, probably trying to find the best way to appease his son.
“Maybe I should h
ave, but I knew if seals came together in the way we were told, Claire would reject you physically. I told your Mom I knew, and I didn’t want us to interfere. It would have ruined your mother’s life. I refused to let that happen.” He spoke to Reese so tenderly. It broke my heart knowing their relationship would never be the same.
Reese threw his hands up. “Who cares about her, dad? She cheated on you,” he argued, sitting down in a chair at the table. It looked as though they were in the kitchen.
I watched his father pacing, just as Reese had, the mannerisms so similar.
“Reese, we were really young. We were dating but we weren’t committed to each other. I saw other people as well,” he admitted, begging his son to understand.
I was growing increasingly uncomfortable about eavesdropping on their private conversation.
“But she lied to you. She told you I was yours when she knew damn well I wasn’t,” Reese entreated, turning towards the door. I shifted, hoping he hadn’t seen me.
Mr. Phillips took a seat next to his son at the table.
“She did lie. But she had suffered enough. When Wes went back to Shelby, it ruined her. She only wanted to do what was best for you, so she married me. I loved you like you were my own. I still do,” he conceded putting his face in his hands. I felt a twinge of guilt, witnessing his pain.
“Hey,Claire.” Brent popped his head into the mud room where I was standing. I turned to look at him noticing he had relaxed and no longer looked angry with me.
Speaking in a low, quiet voice he said, “Five minutes are up, baby. We gotta go.”
“Okay, let me get him.”
I knocked quietly on door even though it was open, announcing my arrival. I stepped into the kitchen. Both men stood, and looked at me with surprise. Brent stepped in just behind me.
Reese started towards me. “Claire, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” he asked, worry pouring out of him.
“Isn’t it obvious? I came to get you.”