When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

by Connie Cox

“Like this?” Mark’s voice had a thin veneer of teasing that didn’t cover up the strain of restraint.

  He swept his finger along the lacy cups, letting his palms graze her nipples.

  His touch left her aching, needing— “More.”

  “More? Like this?” He leaned in and kissed her, starting with her neck right below her ear then trailing kisses down her cleavage.

  “Yes. Like that.” Eva’s knees gave out. She sat, only vaguely realizing the bed was right behind her, catching her.

  Mark followed her down, unhooking her bra as he went.

  He held one heavy breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb across her nipple, while he teased the peak of the other with his tongue, making her writhe under him.

  Together they lay back, him over her as he kissed and teased and fondled.

  Every nerve ending cried out for “More. Please, more. Now, more!”

  Mark pushed away from her and stripped off his jeans, grabbing protection from his wallet as he did so.

  Eva unzipped her own jeans and lifted her hips while Mark pulled them free.

  Then he took up where he’d left off, his mouth tracing the line down her stomach.

  When he got to her belly ring, he flicked it with his tongue.

  In the back of her mind, Eva realized those high-pitched breathy moans were coming from her.

  “More,” she managed to say between breaths.

  “Say my name,” he growled to her.

  “Mark,” she whispered, knowing why he demanded it of her, more than willing to give it to him.

  “Mark,” she said again.

  “Who do you want?” he demanded.

  “You,” she gasped. “Only you.”

  “Now?” He held himself over her, barely touching her, ready to plunge but waiting, waiting.

  “Now,” she screamed, desire making her world totally centered on the man above her.

  And then their worlds collided as they came together, hard and fast and, oh, so filling.

  “Mark, Mark, Mark,” Eva found herself chanting as they fell into rhythm.

  She looked up into his face. It was fierce, strained and totally beautiful.

  “Say my name,” she demanded.

  “Eva.” His voice rasped as her fingernails did the same down his back.

  Hearing him call her name took her to the place she longed to go—had to go.

  “Mark.” She screamed his name to the rafters, not caring if the neighbors heard.

  “Eva,” he responded.

  And together they scored a victory beyond their highest expectations.

  * * *

  Mark lay splayed across Eva’s bed, one hand cupping a soft, supple breast, the other hanging off the bed.

  Her leg lay on his, her hand on his stomach. Overhead, the ceiling fan spun, drying their sweat on their sensitive skin.

  He wasn’t sure what happened. All he knew was this was so much more than sex.

  Which was why he had to go.

  He wasn’t ready for anything more. Hadn’t planned on ever being ready for anything more.

  He didn’t want to care for Eva, didn’t want to know her thoughts, her dreams, her inner driving force. Didn’t want to care.

  She traced her fingers across his stomach, making his gut tighten as she played him.

  Without looking at him, she asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.” She rolled over and off the bed. “What just happened?”

  Mark turned his head to look at her, every magnificent inch of her. So much woman. All his.

  No, not all his. Not his at all. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ve never—not even with— I don’t know what to think of this. Do you?”

  He braved the intensity of her questioning eyes. “No. Neither do I.”

  “I know this sounds weird, but it’s like I lost myself, then found myself in you. Very metaphysical, I know, but that’s the only way I can describe it.”

  Mark nodded. “That’s a good description.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it. What are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know what I feel.” He rolled off the opposite side of the bed. “I think I need some time. Some space.”

  “Okay.” She pointed to a closed door. “Bathroom through there. I’ll be—I’ll be in the kitchen, I guess, to give you some privacy.”

  Privacy. After what they’d done, what they’d shared, privacy sounded like a hard, cold separation of souls.

  Mark gave her a bleak look, unreadable beyond unhappy. “Okay. Thanks.”

  How could such a shared act mean such different things to each of them?

  Making love with Mark had been a mistake. Especially because of the love part. She’d gone and done it. She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t love her back.

  Was this what Chuck had felt, knowing she couldn’t love him as much as he’d loved her?

  How could he have lived with the pain?

  But, then, he hadn’t, had he?

  Eva donned the sleep shirt that she’d tossed to the floor earlier, slipped into the bathroom for a second, then scurried out without looking in Mark’s direction.

  Mark took his time showering, trying to piece together a plan of action, or at least a thought or two about what to do next.

  Could he walk away from an experience like this? It had been so surreal, almost out of body.

  As hot water sluiced over his head and down his neck and back, he let his mind go, reliving the lovemaking he and Eva had just shared.

  Lovemaking. It was too soon for love.

  How long did it take to fall in love?

  He didn’t believe in love at first sight. But, then, he didn’t much believe in love at all—even when it climbed into bed with him.

  Chemistry. Abstinence. Stress. Need. He searched for a reason, for an excuse for what he was feeling.

  As he entered the kitchen he found Eva washing his mug over and over again as she stared out the kitchen window into the black night.

  She glanced over at him. “Find everything you need?”

  No, he didn’t even know what he needed, much less where to find it. “Yes, thanks.”

  “It’s okay if you say no. I totally understand.” She looked down at the mug as if she was surprised to find it in her hands. “But if you want me to, I might be of some help tomorrow when you go through the process with Aaron.”

  At her offer, Mark felt like the world wasn’t so heavy on his shoulders. So this was what it was like to share the load.

  But this was family business and it was up to him to take care of it. He shouldn’t burden her with his problems.

  “Eva, I...” He paused. Instead of turning down her offer, he found himself saying, “Okay, thanks.”

  “They’ll let Tiffany know when you should show up. Call me when you hear from her, even if it’s early.”

  “I will.” Tomorrow didn’t sound so daunting with Eva by his side. “Thanks. It’s not enough, but, well—thanks.”

  Her smile was genuine, gentle and very real. “Thanks is plenty.”

  That smile sustained him all the way home to his empty apartment where he lay on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep, worrying about what tomorrow would bring.

  And taking comfort from knowing he wouldn’t have to face it alone. Taking pleasure in remembering how Eva had taken away his loneliness. And taking deep breaths as he tried to push away thoughts of an uncertain future.

  * * *

  Eva straightened the covers and climbed into bed. She snuggled down, breathing in the scent of Mark, remembering the feel of Mark, the taste of Mark, and her ecstasy at Mark’s skillful hands as they’d mad
e love.

  Made love. That meant quite a bit more than had sex.

  What did Mark mean to her?

  She reached deep down into herself, letting the feeling of Mark flow through her. Her body felt satiated, her mind felt rewarded, her heart felt whole.

  What did Mark mean to her?

  Quite a bit more than she had expected.

  What was she going to do about that?

  Sleep on it. That was always the advice Chuck had given her.

  She snuggled into her pillow. Would he come to her tonight in her dreams, the way he often did?

  As she drifted off, her dream lover lay with her, warming her, keeping her safe. When she turned toward her fantasy man, she saw his face.

  Mark.

  He felt good and right and all hers, in her dreams.

  In her sleep, she cried. Her dreams never lasted.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IF HE HADN’T found tension release in Eva, Mark might have come apart during the night spent worrying and wondering what he could have done to prevent Aaron’s predicament.

  He tossed and turned, first in bed then on the couch as he flipped through TV channels. He didn’t think he’d slept at all.

  When Tiffany’s call came around eight in the morning, Mark had been up for hours.

  “I couldn’t get an emergency order for release. They’re holding him until Monday when a judge will make a decision.”

  “That’s two days, Tiffany.”

  “He broke probation. He assaulted an officer. And he has shown no remorse. I’ve called in every favor I have but I’m still not able to do much here. Visiting hours are at three this afternoon. You can see him then.”

  As he hung up the phone with Tiffany, Mark resisted the urge to dial Eva’s number. Mark hesitated to call. Tiffany had been clear. There was nothing anyone could do for Aaron.

  But what about him? Was there anything anyone could do for him?

  He found himself driving towards Eva’s house, needing her comfort, needing her support. Needing her love.

  Needing her love? No, he didn’t need her love. He was too strong for that.

  Still, he couldn’t help wondering. Did Eva love him?

  Mark thought of the feel of her hands on him as they’d made love. Of the way she’d cried out his name. Of the way she’d clenched around him as if she would never let him go.

  Of the way she’d left her imprint on his soul so that hours after they’d made love he could think about her and still feel her brilliant glow inside him.

  Sex had never felt like this before.

  She came to the door in her sleep shirt, looking tousled and ready to go back to bed.

  “Mark?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” He stuttered his way through an explanation he didn’t have. “I can’t see him until this afternoon.”

  “Come in.” She stood aside to let him in.

  The buckets of paint in the corner caught his attention.

  Would Eva understand? He needed to do something and he needed to do it with her. He’d rather make love, but what if she said no?

  He was in no state to take rejection gracefully today. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to take it gracefully from her. What had this woman done to him?

  “Eva, can we paint? I haven’t forgotten you won that game and I owe you.”

  “Okay.” The sympathetic look she gave him told him she did understand. She pointed to the kitchen. “Why don’t you fix a pot of coffee while I dress?”

  Mark rumbled through Eva’s kitchen, opening drawers, searching for measuring cups and coffee filters. Instead of feeling intrusive, it felt intimate and possessive. The sense of belonging anchored him.

  As they took photos off the walls, Mark studied the people in the pictures. One photo showed a teen girl and two very young children.

  Eva looked over his shoulder. “My mom, Ricky and me.”

  “You look like her.”

  “Yes, I do. I wish I could remember her.” Eva took the photo from him and reverently laid it on the table. “It’s the only photo I have of her except for a few school pictures.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. She just left one day and has never come back. Our grandmother raised us.”

  Trust issues. Mark could see where they might have sprung from.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up but we had a loving, stable family. I’m not sure we would have had that if she had stayed.”

  Mark took another photo off the wall. Her brother and very pregnant sister-in-law, both in their late teens, gazed into each other’s eyes, obviously in love with each other. He put it next to the other family portrait. “Love and stability has nothing to do with money.”

  “What happened with your parents?” Eva didn’t look at him as she taped off a window seal. It made answering easier.

  “Dad cheated on us.” The cold part deep inside him throbbed even after all these years.

  “On us? It’s very common for children to identify with their parents.”

  Mark thought about that for a while as he pulled a nail from the wall and patched the hole with toothpaste. “That’s how Mom always said it. ‘Your father cheated on us.’”

  “There are better ways she could have phrased that.”

  “Neither of my parents are known for trying to make their words less painful.” Mark still winced at the blunt way his mother criticized his sister over her few extra pounds. She criticized him over his failed marriage with equal vehemence.

  Eva stretched to reach the last picture frame on the wall. “You do pretty well with your diplomacy.”

  “I have Tiffany to thank for that. She was always telling me how I should say things.” Mark had resented the advice at the time, but it had eventually had its benefits.

  “Tiffany seems nice.” Eva studied the effects of her taping over the wall seams. “This part is done.”

  Mark covered the last hole. “Done here, too. Ready to paint?”

  The primer coat went quickly, with Eva cutting in the trim and Mark rolling.

  By the time they were ready for the top coat, the apartment held the kind of silence that called for confession. Mark cleared his throat. Where to begin?

  “I wanted a family. Tiffany wanted to concentrate on her career. We drifted apart and she found someone else.”

  “While you were still married?”

  “Yes.” Mark rolled paint on the wall with a vengeance. “I wasn’t careful with my words when I found out. I acted just like my parents, I guess. She took out her pain in our divorce settlement. It was bitter all round. We’re trying to be adult about it now.”

  As Mark finished up the last of the window seals, he said, “I think I’ll clean up now. I only get forty-five minutes with Aaron. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Okay.”

  He could feel Eva staring at him, evaluating him.

  Ask me. Please, ask me if I need you. Ask me if I want you to be with me. If he ever needed synchronicity to work, now was the time. Of course, he could open his mouth and ask her to go with him, but an O’Donnell didn’t lean on a woman. He needed some vestige of pride left to stand on.

  “Mark, would you like me to go with you? I’ll help where I can.”

  Had she seen his plea in his eyes? Felt it from his heart?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he didn’t have to face today alone.

  Feeling weak, he covered his need by saying nonchalantly, “Sure. Aaron can use all the help he can get.”

  And so could he.

  The look Eva gave him told him she saw through his bravado. “I’ll be glad to do whate
ver I can for Aaron—and for you. All you have to do is ask.”

  And there lay the difficult part, the asking.

  * * *

  Eva sat in the waiting room with Tiffany, who paced and obsessively checked her phone for emails while waiting for Mark. Eva recognized Tiffany’s actions for what they were, a need to do something—anything other than feel helpless.

  Type-A personality. Like Mark. She could bet there had been friction in the household of two such like-minded people.

  Tiffany stopped pacing and answered her phone with a sharp “Hello.” She mouthed the words, “District Attorney” while pointing to her phone.

  “Yes, I saw Aaron this morning. The visit went much like last night, except he now has a desperate edge to his bluster. I’ve counseled him about his attitude, but he’s just not getting it.”

  Tiffany listened intently, a frown marring her forehead. “Yes, we can do that. I know just who to ask.”

  Tiffany turned to Eva just as Mark entered the waiting room. Whatever she was about to ask would have to wait.

  “I’ve got to get him out of there,” Mark told Tiffany as he clasped Eva’s hand like a lifeline.

  Tiffany nodded. “I’m talking to the District Attorney, trying to work things out. If he would only help himself. Would it hurt for him to be a little remorseful? A little accepting of responsibility for what he did?”

  Eva felt Mark’s tension through their joined hands.

  “He’s scared, trying to get through this the best he can. Are you going to do something for him, or do I have to hire another lawyer?” he challenged Tiffany.

  Tiffany brushed away Mark’s sharpness. “They’ve done a drug test and we’re waiting for the results but they recommend that we get an expert evaluation.”

  Now Eva knew what Tiffany was going to ask her. Could she do it? For Mark’s sake?

  Through gritted teeth, Mark said, “He’s not doing drugs.”

  Tiffany glared back at him. “Do you want him out or not?”

  She turned to Eva. “This is what happened between us.”

  Caught in the middle of their old hurts, Eva looked anywhere but at Mark or Tiffany. Instead she said, “I’ll do it. I need to go by my old office at the clinic and do some research first.”

  Mark looked like he would protest. Instead, he gave her a half-smile and said, “Thank you. I’ll drive you over there.”