I am suddenly being poked in the arm by a wandering finger. I open my eyes to Philip standing nearby, balancing a plate with a teriyaki chicken sandwich I left for him in the fridge; he grips a canter of whiskey in the other hand. His smile is disarmingly boyish, masculine, and devilishly handsome. Silver Fox—my nickname for him.
I pull myself up in the mountain of bubbles.
“Looks like someone is having a private party,” he says, smirking.
Darth glances up at him with a busy, eager stare, his bushy tail wagging and thumping the floor, as if asking, Where’s my dinner?
“Welcome home, sweet man,” I say, gathering myself.
“It’s nice to be home.” His tired eyes attest to his long day at the station. He jerks a thumb toward the bedroom. “Where’d the flowers come from?”
“Flower shop on Elm,” I answer, winking.
“For whom?”
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
His face lights up, beaming. “Special occasion?”
I shrug. “Just because.”
He turns and sits down on the closed toilet lid, picking up a Bar-B-Q Pringle from the plate.
The blue-and-white-checkered tie I bought him for his birthday this past summer hangs loosely around his neck. The top of his dress shirt is unbuttoned, and a tuft of dense salt-and-pepper hair pokes out from beneath the fabric.
His cuffs are rolled up to his elbows, and the ropey sinew of his burly arms sends blood rushing to my nether regions. I shift ungracefully in the water as if I have been sitting for too long.
I watch Philip eat, and how he looks in the shadowy ceiling light reminds me how much I am in love with this thoughtful man.
How lucky I am.
I smile. “Dare I ask how your day went?”
Biting into his sandwich, he mumbles, “Shitty and stressful. It’s good to be home.”
I think about how hard Philip works to keep Milestone County’s streets safe. At the moment, all I want to do is leap out of the tub, sopping wet, and wrap my arms around him.
I envision us rolling on the floor, naked, finding our erogenous areas, and discovering new special places.
Scooting Darth Vader out of the room, of course.
I smile at the thought of Philip and me making love. I gaze at his rugged manliness and weightlifter’s physique. Beneath his tight-fitting uniform I glimpse his defined thighs, chest, and arms.
Even in the now-cold bathwater, my penis pulses. Most of the bubbles have dissolved, which nearly reveals my erection.
I am jerked out of my dream state when I hear Philip say, in his thick manly voice that arouses me to no end, “Hello? Chris? Did you hear me?”
The pulsating heat of his tone draws me back to the present. I smile and nod as if we are meeting for the first time. “Yes. I’m sorry. I was elsewhere.”
“Long day?”
I gather soapy water in the palm of my hands, prolonging the final seconds of my bath, splashing my face to help rejuvenate my thoughts. I turn to him; grin naughtily. It is like watching porn in slow motion: Yes, baby, it has been a long, long day. Wrap me in your big, hairy arms—
I grin. “No. I’ve just got a few…things on my mind.”
“Work?”
“Among other things.”
He teases me with a flirtatious smile. “Do you want me to get you a towel?” he asks, wolfing down the last wedge of his sandwich. I watch him wipe a gob of mayonnaise away from his bottom lip with his tongue.
An intoxicating impulse springs into my mind. “I have a better idea.”
The corner of his left eye twitches. He looks amused.
That only means one thing: We are on the same page.
I angle my head and toss him what I hope is a come-hither look. My mind is awhirl with images of Philip and me enveloped in each other’s arms, our bodies joined as one.
After Philip sets his dinner plate and glass on the edge of the sink and shoos Darth into our bedroom with a gentle hand on his back, he shuts the door and turns to me, smiling impishly.
Philip pouts at me like one of those sexy cover models. He unloops the tie from around his neck, unclasps the remaining buttons on his shirt, and saunters toward me in gyrating dance moves, hip cocked, face frozen in his orgasm expression as if in ecstasy; he admires me from across the room.
I look up at the love of my life, grinning foolishly. “I’ve been a bad, bad boy, Sheriff.”
He tosses his tie at me, working his belt buckle loose, and unzipping himself, teasing me, gripping me with his ravenous stare. “Did you call for help?”
I am barely able to look away from this beautiful man. He is the epitome of masculinity. I groan, happiness filling my voice, “I’ve fallen and cannot get up.”
Philip drops his pants and kicks them off across the room.
I gaze at the lovely architecture of Philip’s manhood, and as he steps into the tub, the outline of his chiseled body makes me go weak.
He steps into the lukewarm water and sits against the back wall, smiling at me. He drains the tub and a few minutes later, we are sitting in a fresh pool of hot water.
Then I feel Philip’s strong hands beneath my thighs, pulling me closer to him. He leans into me with his teriyaki breath and envelops my mouth with his.
Trying to find the right footing, we adjust our bodies clumsily, our limbs crisscrossing, until we find a comfortable position. Philip gently brushes my penis with his fingers, arousing me further. I lean my head back, and my eyes close slowly; my mouth slightly open, contented. I moan at his gentle strokes.
All of the day’s troubles, gone.
When Philip eases himself into me, delicately, it feels as if it is his first time. I let out a hurried, jagged breath. My heart quickens. I am in good hands.
No worries, I tell myself. Don’t think. Just feel. Enjoy.
We develop a steady rhythm between us, our bodies creating tidal waves, sloshing water over the edge of the tub.
Philip’s warm breath feathers across my earlobe; his hands grip my neck as we near the end, and he pulls closer to him. My head drops into his damp chest hair; I feel his body shudder next to mine.
We are close.
I let out a smothered gasp.
Seconds later, we succumb to heaving, low, shallow moans, our bodies shaking, rocking, merging into one.
Chapter 7
“I’m getting too old for sex,” Philip says to me ten minutes later when we are propped up in bed, listening to the wind thrashing the holly bushes outside the bedside window.
He sips his whiskey.
I turn to him, grinning. “Too old?”
“As old as time,” he whispers, leaning into my mouth with his boozy breath and kissing me.
I place my hands on his cheek. “Age is just a number. You’ll always be my silver fox.”
He slides a hand over mine, grinning. “I’m the luckiest fellow in the world to have someone as special as you.” He takes the last gulp of booze, swallows back noisily, and sets the glass down on the bedside coaster.
I curl up next to him. “I think you have that backwards.” I stare at my handsome man.
“I just never thought—” The words trail off and then he says, “So, how was your day?”
I turn to him. “What were you going to say?”
He closes his eyes and his head falls in front of him, as if the alcohol has already taken affect. A few minutes later, he looks up at me and manages a weak smile. “I just don’t know what I would do without you. You make me happy to come home every night.”
I slip my fingers through his thick mane of greying hair. “I am the lucky one.”
His head falls across my shoulder, and his warm body curled up against mine is comforting.
“Life is good,” he says, pulling the comforter around us.
The buttery glow of the lamplight spills across the room and envelops us in its homey warmth. The rich cherry wood walls enclose us. I hear the wind pick up and rattle chimes on t
he back porch.
“Thanks again for lunch today,” Philip says. “It hit the spot.”
“Anytime.”
After a long pause, Philip says, “I apologize for what happened this afternoon with Deputy Samson. It won’t happen again.”
“I’ve known Mark for years. Growing up in a narrow-minded family is never easy. I think we can both relate to some degree.”
“It doesn’t excuse his behavior on the job. He was out of control. He stepped over a line he should not have crossed.”
I cannot help but smile at Philip’s exasperation. “Mark had a rough childhood.”
“It’s inexcusable in the workplace. We all need to take responsibility for our own actions. Deputy Samson chose not to exercise those rights today.”
“You’re sexy when you get riled.”
He gazes at me. “Does it really turn you on?”
I nod. “Very much.”
Our lively laughter jolts Darth awake at the foot of the bed. Sleepy-eyed, he pops his head up at us.
In the next ten minutes, we settle down. We listen to each other’s deep breathing. I think Philip is asleep when he doesn’t answer me. “Philip, hon, is something the matter?”
He shifts under the comforter. “Huh? I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Long day.”
“What’s wrong?”
Sucking in a breath, he groans, pulling me under his arm. “I don’t know what’s happening to our nice little town.”
Tucking my face in the crook of his arm, I rake my fingers through his chest hair. “What happened?”
“I can’t tell you how many traffic stops have netted a handful of heroin and cocaine arrests in the last few days. These are twenty-something year old kids, mostly boys, who are dealing drugs. Really potent stuff.” He pauses. “The drugs are being smuggled in through the Canadian border.” He shakes his head. “It’s a shame that these young people will be spending their lives behind bars.”
“I didn’t realize things were so dismal.”
“There’s no silver lining. I don’t see it getting better.”
Pause.
I say, “Not to change the subject, but—”
“Please do. I don’t want to talk about work anymore.”
“I’m afraid my news is just as grim.”
There is a hint of amusement in his voice. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”
I stare up into Philip’s rugged face. “Speaking of unfortunate circumstances, do you happen to know what the percentage rate is for homeless people in Milestone County?”
“Is this rhetorical?”
I shake my head. “Afraid not.”
He exhales and stares around the room. “I don’t know the exact numbers, but I know I’ve seen a rise in the homeless community just in the last month. It is especially noticeable around the holiday season, people digging through dumpsters around town and sleeping in the park. Why do you ask?”
“I sat next to a woman on a bench in Trinity Park today before I stopped by the police station. We started chatting. She introduced herself as Rose.” A fleeting smile skims across my lips. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, until we said goodbye and went our separate ways. As I turned the corner, I noticed her pushing a shopping cart filled with soda cans and rags. She wore ratty clothes.” The image is permanently inked into my brain. I swallow back burning bile of acid crawling up my throat. “I’ve never noticed someone like Rose in all my years living in Milestone County.”
I glance around the room at the high-end dressing bureau and the thick cherry wood slab writing desk on the back wall across the room. I look across the queen-sized bed to which Philip and I retire every night and talk about our days, to our furnished walk-in closet. Shelves line rows of shoes, ties, dress shirts, and underwear.
“We’re more fortunate and comfortable than a lot of people,” I say, nearly exhausted, sounding defeated.
I feel his warm, kind, reassuring hand on mine. “In some regards, we are. But you can’t feel sorry for everybody.” He grabs my hand lightly. “For some people, they’ve chosen a lifestyle, much like Rose’s, that does not bear the stressful responsibilities of our lives.” He pauses. “I’m not saying this is the case with the woman you met in Trinity Park, or people who are less fortunate than us. It may not be.” A sigh. “Sometimes life is unfair.”
“I’m afraid that everything I’ve worked so hard for will be gone tomorrow.”
Philip pulls me into an embrace. “I won’t let that happen.”
I smile.
We grow quiet.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Everything. Work. Us. This life we’ve built together.”
A long pause.
“Some days I feel like my writing is shitty, and I don’t want to publish another word,” I tell him. “Or we argue, and our relationship is over.”
“You were born to write, hon. Do it. Don’t think twice about it. You have my support.” He kisses the top of my head. “As for us, I love you so much. Our ups and downs are a testament to how much we care about each other. If we can survive a few tumbles, we can survive anything.”
Tears fill my eyes. “Enough of my silly nonsense,” I say.
He exhales. “It’s not silly. I care about how you feel. I want you to be able to talk to me about these things.” Silence. “So, what did you do today?”
I caress the wiry dark hairs on his knuckles and am quiet, listening to his heart beating. I see a familiar face flash across my vision. “I saw Bret Hicks this afternoon after I left your office.”
I feel his chest rising under me. I look up at his surprised expression, his eyebrows arching in question. “How’d that go?”
I brush Philip’s stubble with my thumb. “I was as surprised as you look right now.”
“How’s good old Bret?” I hear a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“Great. In fact, he seems like a new person. At least, that’s what he tells me.”
“Sounds like wonderful news for the young man.”
“He told me he went back to high school to get his GED, and that life looks brighter for him.”
“Where’d you see him?”
I look over across the room at the bureau hidden in the dark corner. “Downtown. Walking around.”
“Did he ask about Darth?”
I nod. “I told him he could drop by the house and see Darth any time he wanted.”
Philip inhales. Then releases the breath, slowly.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, staring up at him.
“It’s just that I see so many young men like Bret. Boys who are always in trouble with the law. They are violent and develop bad attitudes. It’s them versus the world. They’re arrested for drugs or public fights. I see it every day at the station.”
“That’s how I would have described Bret a year ago. But today I saw a different person. He’s definitely changed.”
Philip heaves himself up in bed. He looks worn down. “I’ve had a long day. I don’t want to fight, especially about Bret Hicks.”
“Who’s fighting? We’re just talking.”
“I think you’re too close to this kid,” he says. “Bret Hicks is bad news. Boys his age do not change overnight.”
I prop myself up next to him.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Philip says, reaching for my hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Nervously, I chew the end of my nail.
“Did Bret say anything about his mother Janice?” Philip asks, and I am instantly reminded of the feud between Janice and Philip a year ago.
“Yes,” I answer weakly. “But I didn’t probe the issue.”
He lifts his hand off me and rubs my back in slow, soothing motions. My eyes start to close, and I am suddenly sleepy. Philip says, “What happened last year was not your fault. You did the right thing by reporting Bret to the authorities. Janice should be thanking you for calling me. If Bret had broken into somebody else�
��s home, the circumstances would have been different, and things could have gotten much worse.”
“I think Janice knows that.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
I shake my head. “Bret told me that she wants to make amends.”
Philip grunts and levels himself down on one elbow. He gazes up at me, sleepy-eyed. “People always blame somebody else for their mistakes.”
I start to speak, but he cuts me off, smirking. “And before you start defending Bret’s horrible childhood, I want to say it does not justify his violent behavior.”
“People can change, hon.”
He bobs his head affirmatively.
“Bret is a perfect example of somebody who can change,” I say. “What I witnessed today proves it. You had to have been there.”
Philip leans over and kisses me. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I half-smile.
“You’re a smart, caring human being, my sweet man. But sometimes I think you can be too trusting. I don’t want you to get roped into somebody else’s problems.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I say. “I’m fine.”
We kiss and linger longer than usual.
As I pull away, I say, “Thanks for understanding. And I believe wholeheartedly that Bret Hicks has changed for the better.”
“I trust your instincts. Just be careful.”
For the next ten minutes, we cuddle. Our late-night talk turns to the upcoming holidays. I cringe at the thought of having our families under one roof. “What are we going to do about Christmas?” I ask.
Philip groans. “I don’t want to think about our families staying here for an entire week together.”
“Maybe we could put them up at a Holiday Inn.”
I feel him poking me under the blankets. “My parents wouldn’t dream of staying at a chain hotel.”
I turn to him and glimpse the tired lines around his eyes. “Where is everyone going to sleep?”
Philip laughs; thinks about it. “We have two spare bedrooms and a furnished basement.” He stares up at the ceiling and laughs again.
“What’s so funny?”
“My parents,” he says.
“What about them?”
“They’re a tad…uptight.”
The Light Between Us Box Set Page 6