He poured a glass, handed it to me, and turned. “If you need anything—”
“You’re not getting in?” I asked, sniffling back a rogue tear.
He looked back, chewing the inside of his cheek a moment. “I . . . I haven’t kept my hands off you since the moment you got here,” he said. “You need some time alone.”
“I need you.”
“I want you to feel comfortable here,” he said. “To have your own space without me all up in your business.”
“Please get in my business?” I asked, biting my lip.
He shifted on his feet. I was beginning to notice that he was prone to do so when he was fighting himself.
I gave him my best, most exaggerated pout, preying on the indecision in his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone,” I said.
“How can I say no to that?” He pulled down his underwear. Presented with his glorious, naked form, which had given me so much pleasure the past few days, my pout vanished, replaced with a smile.
“Like what you see?” he teased.
I splashed him, laughing as he, in one quick movement, submerged himself in the water across from me. His long legs hit the back of the tub behind me, and he broke down the bubbles between us. He found my ankles, circling them in his fists before running his palms along my calves.
“I don’t even know your mom’s name,” he said.
“Leanore.”
“She still drinks, I gather.”
I nodded. “I don’t know how often. We don’t talk much. Last time I brought up her drinking, she got angry and said she wasn’t an alcoholic because she only drinks when she’s stressed.”
David sat forward and placed his hands on the outsides of my thighs. His gaze narrowed, and I knew what was coming. I’d heard it before, mostly from Bill. Lectures on how I needed to be there for my mom, to help her through hard times. How she deserved more from me because she was my mother, and family always came first.
“Olivia,” he started sternly. “I’m sorry that she called you a slut.”
“Heard that, did you?” I asked.
“It’s not true.”
I shifted against the back of the tub and looked down into the bubbles. “I know.”
“Look at me.”
I met his gaze, and his grip tightened on my legs. “What you did—what we did—does not make you a slut.” He took a tentative breath. “Does she call you names often?”
“Only when drinking. She’s more of the passive aggressive, cold-shoulder type when she’s sober.”
“I see,” he said. “That’s not necessarily better.”
I shrugged. “I’m tougher for it.”
“You keep people out. Because of her.”
I looked away, my mind blanking. I keep people out? It wasn’t anything revolutionary, but this conversation was beginning to echo one I’d had with Bill six months earlier. “You think I’m cold.”
“Cold? Baby, no. Why would you say that?” He scooted closer and flattened his hand on my chest. “You’re warm. So warm that you make me warm. I can see you’re hurting from all the things you carry inside.”
I put my hand over his and squeezed. “Bill thinks I’m cold.”
“He doesn’t know you, haven’t I said that over and over? But it doesn’t matter anymore what he thinks. What I think is that you take everything in, and you keep it there. You have to let it out at some point. You can’t shut down with me like you did with him.”
My heart skipped. Most of me wanted that—it was why I was here. But the part of me that feared opening up and letting someone in so deep would always exist. “I won’t hide.”
“Don’t tell me what I want to hear. You will hide, and I will continue to find you. But you have to promise to try. You trust what we’re doing here, don’t you?”
I bit my lip. “It won’t happen overnight, but I’m taking small steps every day. And yes, I’m terrified of this, but there’s no one else I would take those steps for. No one at all.”
He answered with a goofy, almost proud smile. All because I said I’d try to open up—and with his evident joy as my reward, it made me want to.
I inhaled a steady breath and closed my eyes. “I didn’t really understand how bad things were between my parents until the last year they were together. Dad told me it got harder to hide their big, blowout fights from me.”
David sat back. “You told me she’d been drinking that night.”
I leaned my head back against the tub and kept my eyes shut. “Yes. Dad was really late and he hadn’t called. He’d stopped allowing alcohol in the house, but I guess she had some secret stash because before long, she was drunk.” David took my ankles again and massaged. I gave in to the feeling of his strong hands, of being deliciously shackled by him. “Before I went to bed, she told me that my dad wasn’t home because he was ‘fucking another woman’ and that she was going to leave him in the morning and take me with her.”
“Jesus.”
I lifted my head and looked at him. “I loved my mom, David, but she was cold. To me and to my dad. I never felt like she really wanted me around. I heard her say once that he loved me too much and that I was spoiled because of it.”
“She called you spoiled earlier.”
I nodded. “Bill thinks I am, too. Because my dad—he’s a tough guy, but he constantly reminded me that I was his little girl, and he’d take care of me no matter what. That I was safe with him.”
“As he should’ve,” David said with a frown. “You’re not spoiled. Not yet, anyway. I plan to remedy that.”
I playfully rolled my eyes, knowing he meant it.
David sat forward and stretched for a kiss. “Keep going,” he said.
As he started to pull back, I grasped his arm. “Don’t leave,” I whispered.
He opened his arms, so I turned around and settled my weight against his chest. “I was terrified by what my mom had told me and couldn’t sleep,” I said. “I didn’t want to leave my dad. I mean, it was the alcohol talking—she never would’ve gone through with ending their marriage, but I didn’t know that at the time.”
David sifted my hair through his fingers. “Did he come home?”
I nodded. “They had a huge fight in the middle of the night. I was so scared. I hid in the next room and watched. My mom was yelling about perfume and sex and lying, and things got very surreal. I can’t remember much more than that. She pulled the knife. My instincts kicked in, and I ran in the middle. She lunged. She stabbed me in the side by accident. There was screaming, the sound of the knife hitting the floor . . . I had this long hair, down to my waist—it was tangled and almost black with blood. That’s the last thing I remember thinking before I passed out, that I needed to wash the blood out of my hair. I woke up in the hospital. My dad cried and apologized—that was the most painful part, watching him blame himself. He promised I’d never see the inside of that house again because he was divorcing her.”
David’s fingers paused in my hair, but then continued threading after a moment. “He sounds like a smart man.”
“I had just started middle school,” I said. “Before that, divorce was just a word I’d heard because of Gretchen’s parents. Still, I didn’t really grasp the concept. I asked the nurse for a dictionary, and when I was alone, I looked it up to make sure I understood it correctly. In the definition, the word I could never get out of my head was dissolve. Nothing had dissolved. It’d broken in half, suddenly and without warning.”
“And after?” David asked.
I shifted against his body. “Everything changed. I didn’t want to be with my mom, but she was still my mom. I didn’t want to be away from her, either. He had to stay in Dallas for work, so we moved into a new house across town. I got to stay close to Gretchen, and when she transferred to my school, she threatened to beat up anyone who spread rumors about why I’d gone to the hospital. Gretchen told me that I needed to cry and that she knew how I felt, she’d been through it . . . but I couldn’t. I just could
n’t. I knew I was supposed to cry, but nothing came. So it built inside of me. And built and built and built. The tears, the shame, the pain.”
David continued playing with my hair, soothing and comforting me as he listened. “When did you finally talk about it?” he asked.
I twisted around and steadied myself with a hand against his pec. “I didn’t.”
His eyebrows lowered. “How’s that possible?”
“Gretchen’s caught me in a vulnerable moment a few times over the years. My dad took me to a therapist, but she had no patience for me. After our third session she gave up, and I told my dad I never wanted to go to another one.” I curled my hand against David’s chest. “It’s difficult for me to talk about because I don’t think I ever really got over how suddenly things changed. This is the most I’ve ever said about it.”
David’s eyes grew darker, it seemed, not their normal, beautiful chestnut-brown. “Bill?” he asked gruffly. “Surely you talked about it with him.”
“He knew the divorce was hard and that I hated talking about it. I gave him the bones of the story, and he’s close with my mom—she told him the details of that night, which I only recently found out. But I drilled into him that I hated having it brought up, specifically that night. He respected that.”
“Unlike some people,” David said with a half-smile.
Unlike you.
David pushed me in ways others didn’t, and for some reason, I gave in. “Going through this separation from Bill has taught me some things about our relationship,” I said. “I think I didn’t want him to know more because it would mean showing him my pain and letting him in. And on some level, he didn’t want to know. It was easier for him to ignore.”
David leaned his forehead in and cupped my jaw. “That will never be me,” he said. “I want you to give me everything, because I can take it. Because I want to take it.” He looked at me earnestly, truth in his eyes. He was strong enough to take it all, to shoulder what I couldn’t.
“I lied to you,” I whispered. “I lied when I said Bill and I had talked about my scar. He never asked, and I never brought it up.”
“Never?” he asked.
“A few weeks ago, I finally brought it up to him,” I said. “But it was too late.”
“Your mom had it the wrong way. He didn’t deserve you,” David said. “He was lucky as fuck that he ever got you, but he didn’t know what to do with you.”
“It was my fault, too,” I said. “I kept him at a distance.”
“It’s not your fault, Olivia. He wasn’t worthy, and somewhere inside, you knew that.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true, but somewhere inside, something had kept me from confiding in Bill. I hoped that something was right to share my burden with David. I turned and rested my back against his chest again.
“Things are starting to make more sense,” David said as he hugged my shoulders.
“What things?” I asked.
“When you told me you’d never experienced an orgasm with anyone, I almost didn’t believe you. But I get it now. You knew it wasn’t right. You need to feel safe and loved in order to open up, even physically.”
“Bill loved me, though,” I said. “I chose him because he was safe.”
“But you didn’t trust him enough to let him have all of you. And you were right not to.” He put his mouth to my temple. “You held back for a reason. In the end, no, you didn’t feel safe with him, couldn’t trust him, and your body knew.”
I took a deep breath and let David’s words sink in. Bill loved me, but he didn’t know me. Not like David did. And David had waited a while for me to figure that out. “That would mean . . .” I let the sentence trail.
“That would mean that you feel it with me. You know you’re safe with me, you can open underneath me, and you do. You open for me like a fucking flower, baby. It’s beautiful.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone else in the world describing me that way. “It’s nice to talk to you about this,” I confessed. “It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to.”
“You asked me once why it’s so nice walking together,” he said softly in my ear. “This is why. You and I are supposed to be.”
“Do you really feel that way?” I asked, tilting my head to look up at him. “After everything I just told you, and after last night with Bill and Maria, and then my mom—and maybe my dad will have doubts, too. And we might lose Andrew and Lucy. Do you still think this is supposed to be?”
“No question,” he said, smiling.
I rubbed his forearm and eased deeper into his body, letting my head fall back on his chest. In a warm bath, with David wrapped around me, nothing could touch me. Not even my past. Safe and protected, I relaxed.
“So sweet to have you fall asleep in my arms,” he said.
I blinked my eyes open to a hazy bathroom. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Just for a couple minutes,” he replied.
I smiled and sat forward so he could climb out. He stepped over the side while I watched, holding my knees to my breasts as the water drained around me. He dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist.
I stood and let him wrap me in a towel, too. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a simple white satin nightie, the partner to his favorite robe. He slipped it over my head when I raised my hands. The fabric cooled and soothed my skin, sensitive from the hot bath.
We didn’t bother with anything else except to wind ourselves around each other and bury our bodies under a heavy comforter to block out a chilly night.
I was certain I’d never been so happy.
11
A weekend of feverish, frantic sex turned out to be the best sleep aide. I woke up to an empty bed and gave my aching body a hard stretch. I couldn’t remember sleeping so well two nights in a row. David had worn me out.
And then, he’d helped me relax. After our sweet and sensual bath the night before, something in me had broken free. Finally, I’d told my story, emptying myself of a past I’d locked away and tried to forget. And he’d listened through all of it—and he’d heard me. For once, my emptiness wasn’t a bad thing, but a well to be filled by David and our new life.
“Good morning, beautiful,” David said from the bathroom doorway.
I blinked from the memory and looked at my gorgeous man. All mine, standing there in nothing but his low-slung gray sweatpants and a toothbrush working in his mouth.
It is a good morning. Who knew a Monday morning could be so good?
“Morning,” I replied, licking my lips. Those gray sweatpants, drooping on his hips, reminded me of our first night together. Chaste as it was, they stirred all sorts of fantasies in me. His long and tan torso, pecs of steel, and arms and shoulders personified strength and power. I thought I’d die there on the spot if I knew I’d never get to feel the crush of those biceps again. Or see that tousled hair, unruly from sleep.
And fuck . . . those gray sweatpants. So hot.
He raised an eyebrow at me and stopped brushing. “Love that your office is right by mine,” he said. “I’ll drop you off at work today. Cool?”
I nodded and took a deep breath. My thoughts jumbled with the fact that he was half-naked and full-sexy in front of me. His six-pack became more defined as he brushed, and it reminded me of the way his abs would flex when he was on top of me, thrusting away.
As soon as he disappeared into the bathroom, I scrambled out of bed. He was bent over to spit when I walked in. As he glanced up, I caught his eye in the reflection, stripped off my white satin nightie in one motion, and flung it at him. He snatched it midair with his free hand as I continued to the shower. He was hot on my tail, and as soon as I’d stepped into the stream of water, he was there, shielding it with his massive shoulders.
He took my face in his hands for a rough kiss before sliding one hand down my back to grip my ass. He pulled me against his hardness, but there was only one thing I wanted desperately in that moment. I dropped to my knees. Bracing my bac
k against the shower bench, I wrapped my mouth around him.
“Jesus,” he said.
I took him to the back of my throat and then drew back slowly, sucking as I did. I relished the feel of him growing bigger and harder in the softness of my mouth, the brackish pre-cum that made my jaw tingle.
My tongue greedily paid respect to every ridge and vein of him. I licked anywhere I could, swirling the tip of my tongue over and under his crown until his groans echoed through the bathroom and the glass rattled as he made a fist against it. My eyes flicked up to his as I held the base of his cock in my hand and opened my throat to take all of him.
I was feeling powerful, watching the effect I had on him, until one deep, rolling grunt easily muted my soft moans. He leaned himself on the wall behind me. “Hands,” he clipped. I immediately clasped them behind my back. Propping himself against the stone with one arm, he tangled his other hand in my hair as he took over. He thrust as deep as he could and only pulled back when my eyes watered and my throat constricted around him.
“Oh, fuck. Yes, yes, yes,” he grunted with each flex of his hips, tilting my head up and demanding my eyes meet his. I grabbed his ass and urged him deeper, excited by the way he unraveled for me. Right as I vibrated a moan against him, he flooded my mouth with thick semen. I swallowed it, thick and gummy as it shot down my throat and dribbled over my chin.
“Christ,” he said, resting his forearms against the wall. I coughed into my fist to quell the burning in my throat. When he spoke again, his words were ragged but curt. “Get up.”
I hurried up between him and the bench, weak in the knees for what he was planning.
“Turn around, grab the edge.”
I faced the wall and bent over to steady myself against the bench. He ran a hand up my right thigh, and it disappeared for only a second. As he brought it down against my ass, the bathroom resounded with a slap. I tightened my grip on the edge with the delicious sting.
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 67