"When I came back, I went to talk to your dad, but he said he hadn't heard from you either. I had my sister call and ask for you, anything I could think of to try and catch you without them around. But you were always out of town. And when another three weeks went by and I went to the house again, Jameson came down to the gatehouse and told me you'd gone to San Antonio, that you were dating another guy."
He pushed himself up from where he'd been leaning and turned back towards the stove, a welcome distraction. Rachel was sick and kept imagining herself puking all over the counter. She gulped the rest of her wine, and stood to pour another glass.
She walked to stand near him, hugging the bathrobe tightly with one hand and her wine glass with the other, "I'm sorry."
"I know," he said, turning to face her, "So anyway, I told my dad I couldn't go back out to work, and I drove to San Antonio to look for you. I didn't know what to believe, I thought there was no way- no way you'd done it, had an abortion. No way you'd started dating somebody else. I thought I would find you, see for myself, you know? It was stupid, I had no idea where you were. I walked around the RiverWalk for two days, and then I saw you. With some guy. I was going crazy out of my mind. I called my mom and she told me to come home- "
He looked at her hard, unblinking, seemed to remember something. He was breathtaking. The smooth tan skin she remembered so well had started to age, small lines had begun to surface around the corners of his lilac eyes, more gray now. He was stunning to look at, even as he watched her uneasily.
"She told me that if we were meant to be together, that the universe wouldn't keep us apart. And I just lost it," he finished, "I was angry then and I needed to get away."
He turned back to the stove and cracked eggs into the vegetables. Rachel pictured him driving for hours, not knowing where'd she'd been or why she'd stopped talking to him, while she heard her mother's voice over and over, "He never loved you, Rachel."
"So then what?"
"I joined the Army. I was at basic training by the first of August. I blew off college and did my four years. When I was done being angry I decided to go back to school. Then I went to law school. And now here I am again," he finished, "With you. Again."
A wave of heat ran over her, she took a step back and leaned against the counter with her hip as she poured another glass of wine. A full glass this time.
"Why law school?" she asked.
"Because you thought I'd never amount to anything, that I'd end up some greasy deckhand like my dad. That's what I thought. I figured if I busted my ass and made something of myself as an attorney that eventually I'd run into your dad or your stepdad, and I wanted to make you sorry. Make you regret it, you know?"
"Dylan- "
"No, it's okay, Rachel," he said, turning to face her as he turned off the stove, "I mean, I was hurt, and seeing you again, it brought it all back. But, law school was good for me, and I might not be saving battered women, but I like what I'm doing. I'm good at it."
How differently would they have turned out if Savannah hadn't kept them apart, if they'd gotten married and had the baby and worked and struggled through college? Would they have made it?
"Dylan, how old is Michael?" she asked.
She couldn't keep pretending she wasn't obsessing over when he'd been born.
"Sixteen," he said softly.
"So, then you- " she hesitated.
"No, he's not- " he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, he was amused by where she was going, but gathered his composure, "I met Chrissy at community college, she was a single mom and Michael's father was never in his life. We dated for awhile and I just - I just fell in love with her little boy."
She read the suffering in his eyes, and her stomach turned heavy.
"He was about the same age- you know? And it was a weird kind of relief. We only dated for about a year, but when we broke up she let me stay in his life. He needed me and I needed to feel needed."
His eyes grew glassy and he swallowed hard, he looked away from her, turning back to the omelets in the skillet.
"Dylan," she said, setting down the wine glass, "I'm sorry about Michael. I can't imagine."
He slid the eggs onto a plate on the counter, and tossed the pan in the sink, "Rach, can we not talk about Michael right now? I'm not ready."
"Of course, I'm sorry, I just- whenever you're ready."
She wished she hadn't brought it up, but she couldn't pretend it hadn't made her feel good to know that he hadn't run off and gotten another girl pregnant right away, or that he'd hadn’t been sleeping around while they were together. Her heart grew heavier as she thought about a young Dylan spending time with a little boy who'd needed a daddy, had he always wondered what his own little boy would have looked like, if he'd have had Dylan's blue eyes or Rachel's green?
"Are you hungry?" Dylan asked.
"Not really."
"Me either."
They stood at the stove, watching one another, the tension growing between them. He reached over and brushed a wet curl from her face, a thrill shot through her when his fingertips grazed her skin. She closed her eyes, but looked right back at Dylan, needing to know this was real.
"Do you mind sitting in the living room?" he asked, "I like to watch the storms."
They sat comfortably near one another on the large leather couch. Dylan reached for her hand and held it gently. Lightning struck in the distance and a sharp crack of thunder rocked the tall apartment building.
She stroked his hand and watched the lightning in the distance. She knew he'd answered enough questions for now, and she wasn't ready to tackle the demons her mother had fed with her deceit and manipulation. She felt conviction and strength, but she was angry, she had something to prove now. She had to be the woman she'd never thought she was capable of being, she had to stop being weak and full of fear, and stop worrying about the people around her, stop caring what everyone else thought or what they said about her.
She took his hand in hers and brought it tightly to her chest, not wanting to let him go. She'd never be able to erase the pain he felt now, or the pain he must have felt then. The same pain that had left her scarred and ruined, convinced she hadn't been good enough, that she'd driven him away.
But she wasn't going to live another day without taking a risk or making herself vulnerable. She understood then that she would only find power in being bold, no matter how much it terrified her.
She sat up and straddled him on the couch, letting the bathrobe fall open, unashamed she no longer had the tight, smooth body she'd had when they first made love. After twelve years of marriage, she’d never had sex without making sure she'd shaved her legs, turned down the lights, put everything in its proper place. But now that she was here with Dylan again, she was unconstrained.
His eyes locked with hers, if he was surprised by her courage it didn't show. His hands raced to her legs, then moved slowly, deliberately, to the curve of her ass, to the small of her back, up her shoulders and back down again. He took his time to relearn her body, branding her flesh, and weighing her reactions when he touched her skin. She leaned back, legs on either side of his and let the robe fall to the floor.
"Rachel, are you sure?"
"Are you?"
His pale eyes turned black with hunger, he pulled her tightly into him, and a strong hand moved down to grip her ass while the other ran hard up the back of her neck. He wrapped the hair at the base of her neck in his fingers and pulled her head to the side viciously, granting his mouth access to the sensitive skin he'd discovered in another life. Rachel gasped, her back tensing from the overwhelming stimulation she felt as he licked and sucked his way from her collarbone to behind her ear.
He released her hair and slid his hands over her prickled skin, warming her as she shivered from the pleasure of his mouth on her neck.
"Fuck Rachel," his deep voice vibrated softly into her ear, "I've dreamed this a million times, dreamed of your skin next to mine, I can't believe you're here.
"
He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her with ease as he stood and turned to place her gently on the couch.
"You are so fucking beautiful," he said going to his knees, he gripped her ankles and pushed her feet up until her knees were high to her chest, he spread her wide and ran his hands down her legs to cup her ass, pulling her hips towards him.
"Give me that pussy,” he demanded and his warm mouth engulfed the folds, her back arching unexpectedly.
She let out a moan and her body went rigid with surprise as he explored and tasted her most delicate recess. She managed to exhale, her body softening as she acclimated to the sensation while his hands slid from her knees toward her breasts until his fingertips softly brushed each nipple, caressing them tenderly.
When she started to swell he brushed harder, feeding her fire as he squeezed gently, stroking both nipples while he savored her pussy and her clit screamed for release. He circled it slowly until she breathed, "I can't stop-"
His hands gripped her breasts, holding her to the couch while his mouth flooded over her again and she climaxed, his tongue probing, begging for more, until he felt the tension leave her.
"You taste so fucking good, promise to let me do it again.”
"I promise," she rasped.
He stood and ripped the t-shirt over his chest, dropping it to the floor before loosening the drawstring on his pants. His chest was still the smooth hairless valley of lean muscles she remembered, his small dark brown nipples hard with anticipation. She watched with fascination as his pants fell, her eyes following the soft patch of brown hair below his waist.
As time passed after she'd lost him, Rachel convinced herself her memory of his grand physique was flawed, that she'd simply wanted to remember him that way. But here he stood, the lightning outside the window showcasing his perfect skin, that perfect cock. She'd been so terrified of it the first time she'd seen it, but now she reached down and confidently touched the smooth skin of his long thick shaft, her fingers drifting over the rigid head.
His eyes flared when she touched him, but he kept his arms at his sides while his solid cock bobbed with impatience.
She gripped his dick, "I need you inside of me."
He sat on the couch and growled, "Come here," pulling her to him, "I want to watch you."
His fingers met her hips as she straddled him again, kneeling directly over his cock and his mouth covered a nipple, the tongue tormenting its tip. Her entrance was still wet, and the hard dick slid through her folds with ease, the pressure slowly rising as he pulled her down further, until he'd finally filled her completely.
"Rachel," he whispered when his mouth broke to find her other nipple, "God, what are you doing to me?"
She'd never felt so possessed, so settled, all trepidation had left her, and for that moment she felt- quiet.
"Your dick was made to be inside of me, Dylan.”
She settled her hands to his shoulders for support and began to rise, feeling his length slowly draw out of her. She needed to feel her clit driving hard against him, to relive his cock entering her over and over, the ridge of his head rippling past her lips, the thick shaft forcing her open.
"Purr for me, puss, let me hear you," he urged, "Show me how you want it."
He hastened her with this hands and mouth, kneading her muscles, commanding her body to comply, just as he'd done when they first explored one another all those years ago. And she finally leaned back in surrender, her blood pumping hot and thick as the whimpers and moans escaped from deep within, from a distant, buried place she'd long forgotten existed.
"Fuck, Rachel," Dylan groaned, his face full of wonderment as he watched her submit, "You'll never know the pleasure your moans give me, I still fantasize about the sounds you make when you lose yourself like this."
He pulled her to him, and her arms went around his neck, his body massaging her clit as she rode him faster until his cock thickened, growing harder inside of her as he neared his peak.
"I'm going to cum," she moaned, "Dylan, you're going to make me cum," the last barely escaping from her throat before her cunt began convulsing around him.
"Cum for me, pussycat.”
Her breath caught as he sat forward and his arms, wrapped tightly around her waist, pulled her further down, sending her body into a state of unyielding deliverance. His cock, bursting inside of her, pulsed as his sweaty body melted into hers while they came, clinging to one another. And when her body fell limp against him, his panting slowed to short heavy breaths and he buried his face in her chest, her arms still wrapped tightly around his neck.
CHAPTER TEN
The storm outside began to pass, but the dark clouds lingered, giving his apartment a feeling of dusk in spite of the clock that read early afternoon. She'd have to leave soon to pick up her children, and he was both comforted and disheartened to know that she would go home to her two sweet, healthy babies while he was left in his dark apartment, alone. He'd have no children to hear playing loudly in the next room, nobody to hear him yell, "Dinner is ready!" No homework or giggles or frustrated tears.
His heart grew sour with sorrow over Michael, and he held Rachel tighter as they embraced, lying on the soft cowhide rug. She'd interrupted his grief long enough to make him hopeful, and though he'd sworn to let her come to him when she was ready, he knew now he would make her his again, and this time, he'd kill anybody who tried to get in his way.
He pushed himself up on an elbow and looked down into her face, toying with her long curly hair, still damp from the shower. There was conflict in her eyes. He felt his own heavy burden as he reflected on their reunion and the circumstances that inspired it.
"I won't lose you again, Rachel."
She began to interject and he put his fingers to her lips to quiet her, "No. Listen to me, I have to say this. When I first saw that article, and I'd waited all these years to run into you, I knew I had to talk to you. I thought I'd only wanted closure, to understand why. But I've been fucking obsessed, and now I see, I was just deluding myself. All this time I've been waiting, knowing that inevitably, you would find your way back to me. I know you’re married, and I should feel conflicted, but I don’t. You’re mine again. I don't care what it costs me."
"Dylan, let me- " she interrupted, but he shook his head, untangled himself from her naked body and stood to continue.
He had to get this out.
"No, let me finish. I don't expect it will be uncomplicated, or painless, and I will give you time to think about everything that has happened, time to determine what you think is the best way to move forward. But I won't give you forever, Rachel. You belong with me. You know it, or you wouldn't be here. I've lived without you for too long, it's our turn now."
"Dylan, you have to understand. We've been apart for so long- "
She was stalling.
"But now we're here. And my universe hangs in the balance, waiting for you to say you’ll stay, to make me whole again. I can live without you, Rachel. I know I can, I've done it for sixteen years. But I won't do it without telling you how I feel, how I have died a little every day without you. Michael is the only exceptional thing I've had in my life and I'm losing him now, too-"
That's not what he'd wanted to say.
He bit his lip and ran his hands up to his hair before he continued, "I'm sorry. I don't want to make this about Michael. It's not. This is about you and me. And I'm making myself vulnerable to you, I'm putting it out there because I know it's right, Rachel.”
“How do you know it’s right though?” she asked, “I’ve been here for two hours, how could you possibly know?”
“Because I’m not afraid to ask myself what makes me happy. Find the courage to look at yourself, Rachel, ask yourself what makes you feel passionate and alive. You have the power to make your life whatever you want it to be, stop being afraid to take control, to be honest with yourself. What do you want, puss? Not me, not Kenneth, nobody else- ask yourself what it is that you want. And
then reach out and take it."
“I have to go.”
He watched her leave, he didn’t argue
***
“What do you want?” he’d asked her.
She wanted Kenneth to finally be happy. She wanted her children to feel safe and whole, protected.
And she wanted to love Dylan again, loving him had been so easy. But she didn't know how to begin fighting for what she wanted without damaging the people she loved.
Rachel had never been a fighter, she gripped the steering wheel and yelled at the windshield, "Fuuuuuuuuck!"
The trip back to Harrison Township went by too quickly, she needed more time to reflect on the morning and figure out where to go from here. The rain receded, but the storm still left its dark clouds hovering over the metropolis, stagnant, ominous.
Where was the resolve to gain control over her life she’d felt hours ago? Happiness was up to her, she had to be the architect, she knew that. But knowing and feeling competent were two different things. She’d always been able to be strong for her clients, why couldn’t she do it for herself? Why couldn’t she stand up for herself?
The rage returned almost instantly, as soon as she'd left him she started thinking of how to confront Savannah. She wanted to drag her mother into that enormous dressing room of hers and brick up the doorway, à la The Cask of Amontillado, listening to her scream for mercy all the while.
Rachel had always excused her mother's interference in her life as being well intended, she rationalized the petty criticisms and unjust demands as those of a woman who'd suffered too many wrongs in her early life. She'd long learned to accept Savannah's refusal to allow her any kind of self-directed happiness, her inability to show her any real affection and her disinterest except when it pertained to superficial and material things.
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