Flight of Passion: True romance and the obsession for love

by Mollie Mathews

  “I must go,” she said thickly, as though forcing herself to fight the physical magnetism he was exerting.

  He leaned toward her. “You can’t help what you feel,” Oliver murmured in his low, seductive voice. “You want to taste me as much as I want to taste you.”

  His face came closer, his eyes commanding hers with relentless purpose.

  “Oliver…I...I can’t,” she stammered, pushing him gently as he approached.

  His eyes narrowed sensuously as his gaze lingered on her throat, on her heaving breasts, on her trembling body, filled with passion—and with promise.

  Ruby shrunk back, hard against the wall. He lifted an arm, placing his palm firmly on the wall near her ear.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, bringing his lips to within centimeters of hers.

  He could feel the electrical charge that unified and ignited their bodies. He could hear the quickening gasps of breath.

  He inhaled her familiar scent, savoring memories of the steamy sex they’d once enjoyed. Eight years later he could still smell her sweet musky essence after that night of lovemaking. He could still hear her moans of pleasure. He could still feel her body tense as ecstasy sent ripples through her body.

  He wanted to turn back the hands of destiny, to reclaim the time lost to them. One minute he was leaning toward her, and the next he was lost in a tropical utopian dream. Soft, sensual, vibrant, surrounded by fragrant breezes and the feel of the warm earth beneath his bare feet.

  Ruby let out a breathy sigh just before his lips touched hers. So softly, so gently, he wasn't sure if it was real. He felt her body stiffen, then tremble as she folded into him.

  He moaned as Ruby's slender arms draped around his neck. His mouth sought hers with a slow deliberation that eased the throb of need deep within him. Gently he took her top lip in his mouth and softly sucked it, slowly savoring her taste. He opened his mouth to drink more of her intoxicating elixir. She opened for him, tasting of honey and paradise.

  With a touch like a butterfly, he kissed her eyelids, then softly brushed her cheeks with his lips. He held her neck gently in his hands, caressed the tips of her earlobes with his lips, blew soft kisses in her ear.

  Ruby’s whole being vibrated in wild response to his. He sensed she was utterly helpless to stop him doing anything he wanted with her.

  His hands slid under her silky dress, stroking the smooth skin of her back. He pressed her closer until he felt the pounding beat of her heart against his chest.

  The sounds of the music rising, rhythmic humming and people chattering as they partied below could barely be heard over the roar of longing in his heart.

  They remained close as though frozen in a moment. He closed his eyes and marveled at how wonderful it was to be with her again. Her kisses quenched his thirst, watered the dry, barren, parched wasteland of his life.

  Her sensual touch provided a welcome tonic for the boring monotony of soulless encounters.

  He felt the flutter of the cool air on his face, streaming through the vents, heard the faint sound of a musician, acoustic guitar in hand, strumming songs of love. And lost himself in mindless enchantment. Then, he felt a shove to his chest.

  “Stealing a kiss may not be immoral in your mind, but you and I both know you don’t give a damn about who you hurt, or whose life you ruin,” she said, projecting the guilt and anger she felt at her own weakness onto him, as she opened the door and fled.

  “You can’t lie to yourself, not for long,” he said, his voice a dark prophecy, chasing after her as she fled.

  “Forget it. Forget me. Forget us,” she cried.

  TEN

  He shouldn’t care, but he did. He couldn’t put his finger on what was troubling him more—his success in deliberately frightening her away or his annoyance that she had fled to Carlos.

  His hand trembled uncharacteristically as he lifted the remaining tray of butterflies and slid it back in the cabinet. Oliver gritted his teeth and shook his head at his weakness.

  He shouldn’t be getting involved. He was a tough man, a ruthless man, a man not easily swayed. A man who should have better control over his emotions. But a man, nevertheless. A man hard-wired with carnal feelings and lusting for the feminine form, intrinsically drawn to the opposite flesh.

  But Ruby was so right, he didn’t do commitment. He’d seen his father’s commitment to his mother turn into obsessive control and vowed never to be like him—a man who loved so much he hurt those who captured his heart.

  He turned to leave the room, sweeping his hands along the smooth surface of the cabinets, brushing aside the irony. Oliver knew he was being hypocritical but something about Ruby’s pending loss of freedom to Carlos compelled a deep desire to protect her, possess her, make her his own.

  But he knew it would be her downfall.

  The first thing he did when he saw a beautiful specimen of Lepidoptera was to curtail its freedom. But he knew that in doing so he was also protecting them from the ravages of the wasps and other predators who preyed on their beauty and innocence.

  His mind drifted back to Ruby. He knew with punching clarity that the only way for Ruby to live as she deserved, was to free her. Free her from the clutches of her manipulative, controlling family, and free her from the man he knew with gut-stabbing clarity they had somehow manipulated her into marrying.

  When she was in Carlos’ presence a light went off, as though his possessing her extinguished an inner fire. A lifetime of servitude to a man like Carlos would slowly kill her. One way or another he would take her from Carlos Torres. One way or another he would free her of a bad mistake.

  He owed her that much at least.

  COMPULSION

  All human actions have one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsions, habit, reason, passion, desire

  ~ Aristotle ~

  ELEVEN

  Fighting back tears Ruby sunk into the soft leather seats of Carlos’ sturdy, solid, conservative Chrysler 300c SRT8. Damn Oliver for coming back into my life just when everything was under control. Ruby tossed her head slightly to stop an errant tear from rolling down her face and betraying her.

  “Where were you?” Carlos asked, as he sat, his back rigid, in the driver’s seat, his voice sounding a warning.

  “Nowhere important,” she smiled more brightly than she felt. She avoided his penetrating gaze as tears rimmed her eyes.

  “You sure?” He looked at her down the wide bridge of his nose, then pulled her hand toward him and gripped it tightly.

  Ruby didn’t move.

  “Oliver wanted to show me something. I couldn’t say no.” Her words though true sounded hollow.

  His dark eyes blackened.

  “Nothing happened,” she lied, knowing she couldn’t possibly tell him the truth. He would be enraged. He would be incensed. He would do something they’d all live to regret.

  Carlos turned the key in the ignition, the engine fired at once, purring like a lion. Evidently satisfied with her answer he tracked his finger down her quivering neck with controlled deliberateness.

  Ruby straightened and fixed her gaze on the neon lights illuminating the dashboard. Her mind flashed back to her encounter with Oliver. The way his lips brushed her ears, the way his eyes pierced her soul. The way every neuron in her brain, and every cell in her heart, flashed lovers red as his mouth claimed hers.

  Carlos reached over and stroked her thigh.

  Ruby grimaced involuntarily, painfully aware of the contrast between Carlos’ and Oliver’s touch. It was like comparing nylon to silk.

  She closed her eyes and tried to dislodge the guilt she felt. She should have resisted. She should never have let him steal a kiss. Passion had rendered her powerless. Passion had made her feel happy. And now she must dislodge Oliver from her mind. As she buckled her seat belt, she wondered if she could ever manufacture the feelings for Carlos that Oliver unleashed.

  Those feelings which rose unbridled, deep within her loin, heart and he
ad in Oliver’s presence. Feelings stamped with a powerful authenticity that seared through her heart and branded her as belonging only to Oliver.

  “I think we should bring the wedding forward,” Carlos said, his voice a decisive command.

  “Wedding?” she said, struggling to keep the alarm from her voice. Good god, they weren’t even formally engaged yet and now he was fast-tracking a wedding.

  Wedding. The word was a powerfully stark reminder of her impending loss of freedom. As a girl she had dreamed of an all-consuming love and a romantic proposal under a starry sky.

  Ruby bit her lip and swallowed her disappointment. Her mother’s words bored into the night, ‘Romantic love is for fools, fading like the beauty of youth. Sacrifice and family honor is a woman’s duty. Your duty. You owe us that.’

  Ruby reluctantly conceded her mother was right. She’d fallen head over high heels in foolish romantic love with Oliver once and it had only brought heartache. She would not make that mistake twice.

  As Carlos accelerated down the drive she turned her head briefly. Oliver stood in the entranceway, his arms folded, staring at her. Ruby’s stomach knotted as her eyes were captured by his smouldering jade-green gaze.

  She threw Oliver a derisive glance. Some men just weren’t worth all the trouble. She knew when she married she wanted it to be with a man who really wanted her, not a man who wanted what others coveted, a man who had one foot in their relationship and the other primed for escape.

  Carlos laid his hand in hers, and she closed her fingers around his soft palm, sadly aware that not one single part of her body tingled or ached or fired with passion.

  Oliver’s prophecy tolled in her ears. ‘You can’t lie to yourself, not for long.’

  The futility of the warning struck into her like a knife tearing silk. Smooth, quick, irreparable.

  Until now she’d been doing a perfectly good job of deceiving herself. But how long could she keep up the pretence?

  TWELVE

  Oliver’s brow knitted together as he watched Ruby drive away. He placed his hand on his chest in a vain attempt to control the quickness of his heart, beating so fast he thought it might explode. What the hell was he feeling? It was completely irrational. Dangerous. Compelling.

  He wanted her, desired her, wished to possess her—and there was no way he was going to let that happen.

  He shook his head at his weakness. This was not the time nor place for sexual distraction. It was a time for discipline. His sister’s life depended upon it.

  Oliver returned to the house, and strode to his room. He walked over to the walk-in wardrobe, reached high into it and pulled down a worn backpack.

  “My lucky charm”, he said as he ran his fingers gently over the worn blue canvas. It wasn’t that he was superstitious or even believed in all that hoo-ha about talismans, four leaf clovers, rabbits feet or any kind of amulet. But he had to admit there was something reassuring about the feel of that pack beneath his skin. It was as though each time he touched it the luck of the gods was on his side.

  He could afford the most sophisticated gear on the market, but this pack was lucky, he thought recalling the many life-threatening expeditions it had hauled him through.

  His hand moved across the fabric protectively as his gaze took in every stain, every crease, every tear. For a few brief moments he mourned the grandfather he’d barely known. A warm ripple coursed through his spine as he touched one of the few pieces that had been handled down the generations.

  He began to fill its cavity with socks, underwear, net hoops, net handles, neatly folded glassine envelopes in which to store his prize catches. He piled in his binoculars, dark sombre clothing to detract attention and blend in with the environment, quick dry trousers with zip off legs that converted into shorts to help temper the tropical heat whilst he tramped amongst wild, virgin, vegetation.

  He rifled through his first aid kit making sure he was aptly prepared in case, god forbid, he found himself at nature’s mercy, and zipped it into the front pocket. An equally disturbing thought jack-knifed through his mind.

  What if Ruby or her family got wind of his mission? The butterfly was on her family land in Mexico. Ruby lived in New York, he reasoned, she wouldn’t even know he was there. But her meddling family—that was a different story.

  Her family hated him, and any residual feelings of affection Ruby may still harbor for him would be shot by his unwelcome intrusion.

  Oliver rose to his feet like some great bird of prey. It was a risk he had no choice but to take. He couldn’t let the Diaz family get in the way of saving his sister.

  THIRTEEN

  How could he have flirted so outrageously with her? Ruby twisted a great wad of drawing paper into a tight knot, screwing her nose at the smell. Oliver was a swine, a flirt and a degenerate, and she hated him.

  He was a commitment phobic, nothing but trouble. Trouble wasn’t what she needed. More toxic glue covered paper was flung savagely into the rubbish bin.

  But gradually the swift, vicious movements of her hands slowed. Her mind wandered to Oliver and his beautiful butterflies.

  She envied the passion with which he lived his life.

  Carlos’ voice calling to her from downstairs, shouting above the grating roar of the televised soccer, snapped her thoughts back to reality. Carlos and she may not share many interests but he did offer her the security that she craved.

  “I’m up here,” she called, as Carlos came in search of her.

  As he glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the disorganised piles of drawings and architecture books on her desk, Ruby thought with a pang how disinterested he looked.

  He walked to her desk and held up the preparatory drawing she’d been sketching of her plans to transform her family’s land in Mexico into an eco lodge and sanctuary for children raised in care.

  “This is interesting.” His monotonous tone told her he thought the curving forms and rammed earth architecture anything but interesting. Her heart sunk as he set it down dismissively.

  “Do you always have to make such a mess?” he pursed his lips as he looked at her stained fingers.

  Ruby listened to him tell her about his day and of all the social events lined up for them to attend. She noted he asked nothing about her day, as though deeming anything she did as insignificant.

  “Come on, go get pretty. We’ve got a state banquet to attend. I want to show you off,” he said.

  She grimaced, tired of being a piece of showcase jewelry, a pretty bauble for others to admire. She wanted to contribute more to the world than a pretty smile. She wanted to work with purpose. She wanted to escape the mundane.

  She slumped in her chair. She wanted the impossible. But she wouldn’t let her current situation stop her planning a way to make her dreams come true.

  “What is all this in aid of anyway?” he said glancing around her studio, pointing at her sketches and wooden architectural models.

  How many times did she have to tell him about her dreams for him to care? Was her mother right, was it selfish to expect him to care about the same things that filled her heart with joy?

  People didn’t have to marry their likeness, she reminded herself. If they did people wouldn’t make the comment that opposites attract. And there was no doubt that Carlos and she were opposite in all ways. But his sudden interest caught her off guard.

  She hesitated for a moment before answering, uncertain of his response, “I’ve told you before, but you’ve been so busy with your career you’ve probably forgotten. It’s my dream,” she said simply. “For an eco reserve and animal sanctuary back home in Mexico,” she said, deliberately not mentioning how the animals would help her to provide comfort and care for traumatised and neglected kids.

  Carlos hated children. After the specialists had told her a virus left her unable to have her own kids, she hadn’t tried to change his mind.

  “I’ve told you,” he interrupted, “I never want to go back to that hell-hole. I’ve w
orked my whole life just to get out of that wretched place.” He pulled her to her feet. “You know I will always provide for you,” he said, his voice softening.

  Ruby looked out of the window at the asphalt and neon lights and the ant-like figures scrambling along the Manhattan streets below. She wrapped her arms around herself. She felt so disconnected from the urban landscape. She yearned to be closer to nature, to walk barefoot upon the earth—she yearned to go home.

  “Once we are married your family's financial woes will be over,” he reassured her, “the land will be—” he swallowed as though ingesting a secret he deemed unfit for her consumption. “—you will be secure. Your family secure. Now put all that nonsense away.”

  She pushed her drawings away and painted a smile on her lips. But she felt no gladness.

  He stood there admiring her, “I’ve missed you,” he said softly. It had been months since he approached her, she assumed it was because of work pressures. To be honest she’d been grateful. His distance had given her some much-needed space. But now he took her hand and led her from her treasured room, her sanctuary, the one place she could truly be herself.

  The only question was why now? Like a fox, could he scent Oliver’s claim on her?

  He led her into their bedroom. Loosening the pins from her hair, he spread her spiralling locks in his hands. He lay her on the bed, methodically unbuttoning, unbuckling, unhooking the clothing which separated their flesh.

  She pushed thoughts of Oliver from her mind while he sated himself, until at last, he fell asleep against her shoulder for a few minutes, his arm under her head, a tired, ambitious man with an accelerating political career. A man her family wished her to marry. A man she should feel something for.

  But something made her want to weep.

  She glanced guiltily at Carlos as she thought of Oliver and recalled the way his lips had nearly claimed hers. She felt her body stiffen and tremble as she folded into the memory.

  She stared blindly down at the trace of drawing ink beneath her fingernails, hot tears clogging her eyes as she faced the unpalatable truth. Dangerous, reckless, arrogant, Oliver was everything she despised.