We Will Always Have the Closet

by Natalina Reis

  That night, alone in her bed, Petra couldn’t sleep. Outside, the typical northwestern weather could be heard. The sound of the falling rain was normally relaxing, but tonight it kept her awake. She had gotten used to Sam’s tall, comforting figure fussing over and protecting her—whether she needed it or not. He had left an empty space in her life that she longed to see filled again. Punching the pillows with her hands and yelling into them in muffled angry outbursts, she almost missed the knock at the door. Who could that be? She rarely had visitors, much less this late at night.

  Barefoot and forgetting to put on a robe, Petra ran to the door in her long cotton nightgown, dreading the worst. Standing at the door, soaked from the rain, was Sam. He did not come in at first. Silent and handsome, a small puddle of water forming by his feet, Sam stared at her with longing in his eyes. “I tried to stay away,” he said, breathing hard. “But I couldn’t. You’re under my skin and I don’t know how to live without you anymore.” Two steps forward and he was inside, holding her tight in his arms, drenching her with his clothes and his body. “I just want to love you, Petra.” Unable to contain himself any longer, Sam crushed his lips on hers in a kiss she had craved all day, maybe her whole life. A kiss that spoke of quiet mornings together and evenings by the fire, a kiss that spoke of a common future together.

  He kicked the door shut behind him as his arms pressed her against him, almost frantic, as if wanting to merge both their bodies into one. In his desperation to leave no space between them, Sam thrust them into the wall. “Sorry,” he whispered, out of breath.

  Petra hadn’t noticed how her back had slammed into the wall rather roughly. Her focus was on him and how his body felt against hers, his mouth exploring her face and neck, his hands making their track along her back. She tingled all over, as if someone was afflicting her with tiny electric shocks, a cruel but wonderful torment. For a crazy moment she wondered if she was glowing. Sam’s hands were now pulling her nightgown up, revealing her thighs and then her chest, and finally flying over his head in a graceful fluid arch. The heat of his palms rested on her breasts and she moaned a little. She wanted to feel more of his skin so she pulled on his shirt, which, in its wetness, seemed resolutely stuck to his body. Sam let go of her just long enough to get rid of it, pulling it off his head without attempting to unbutton it. Her thoughts went back to that first time in the closet when her hands had involuntarily gone to his chest and how she so admired it even then. Once again, her hands, accustomed to touching works of art, traveled there, reveling at the feeling beneath her hungry fingers—wet, taut, and warm, thrilling beyond words.

  Somehow they had traveled into the bedroom and found themselves falling into the bed, piled high with sheets and blankets. The weight of his long body should have bruised her, but instead it soothed her as he enveloped her in his protective cocoon. She reached for the belt on his pants, but her fingers had become useless with the thrill of it all. More than happy to oblige, Sam undid his wet jeans and removed them slowly while Petra watched. He was perfect. Ordinary men were shaped by their parents’ genes. Sam had been carved by Michelangelo’s hand, painted by Lair, and magicked into life from a classical Greek statue. Strong chest and shoulders, narrow hips, long muscular legs…a shiver of pleasure ran through her.

  Leaning on the bed, he reached for her panties and began to slowly strip them. The movement was seductively unhurried and deliberate, her skin raw with pleasure. Her soul was singing and her body was burning with desire. “Can’t stand it anymore, Sam,” she said with a groan. As the delicate lacy item joined the other clothes on the floor, Sam descended on her, sliding his strong body along hers, wet skin against wet skin, creating their own electricity and driving her to the edge of madness. This feeling was so foreign to her, she wondered if she wasn’t indeed going mad. Even in the throes of passion with Jonas she had never felt like this, as if her body couldn’t take in any more pleasure, as if it could actually explode.

  While he studied her body with his hands and his mouth, learning about every delicious curve, every valley, Petra thought about the first time she had met him. Was love at first sight—or first touch, for that matter—a real thing? When she had thrown herself into his arms in that tiny closet, it should have felt awkward, bizarre even, however exciting it might have been. Instead, it felt…right. It felt true, as if their bodies, their souls, belonged together. As if destiny had somehow thrown them into each other’s arms because it was the way it should be. Moist lips kissed a sensual trail along the sensitive skin of her stomach, and Sam quavered at her whimpering of pleasure, her body gently trembling beneath his touch. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and desire burned between them like a flame. “I need…” He hesitated, unable to finish his sentence.

  “Yes, Sam, yes,” she said, pulling him even closer to her. The need to feel him inside of her had erupted to a new level of urgency and she silently and fervently guided him, wanting to soak up the heat he radiated, needing to be joined with him, bonded in body and soul. It overwhelmed her senses and blurred her thoughts. “Love me, please,” she heard herself say. His body’s reaction to her was a powerful aphrodisiac and she couldn’t help herself; her hips gyrated against his heat as his tongue flickered across her chest in a maddening dance.

  Sam propped himself up on one arm while his other hand slid teasingly down between her breasts, across her stomach, all the way down to the soft folds between her thighs. Her deep moan emboldened him and he followed his hand with his lips, bringing her—and himself—spiraling up to the edge of climax.

  Petra, her fingers entwined in his hair, arched against his mouth. “I want you,” she said, her voice hoarse with desire. “Take me now, please. I will go mad.” He took her then, gently and passionately all at the same time in a crescendo of rhythmic strokes, rocking both toward ecstasy. Tidal waves of pleasure ran through their bodies, taking them to the top and holding them there until their bodies folded onto each other, sated and breathless.

  Later, as they lay together, breathless and still high on love and bliss, the world seemed different somehow. Colors were brighter, lines sharper, the contours of the world more pronounced. Even the air they were breathing felt crisper and fresher, purified and sweet. It was wonderful and it was scary. Never had she felt so connected, so close to another human being. It was both sublime and alarming.

  Petra’s head was resting on Sam’s chest, hands across his stomach. “You know, the modeling for Liam…” she started, a finger twirling lightly on his stomach.

  Sam twitched a little at the sound of Liam’s name. “You’re not going to do it, are you?” he said. “I know I don’t have the right to make demands, but…” he sat up a little, leaning his back against the head of the bed. “Hell, Petra, Liam is in love with you. If you give him any hint that you may reciprocate his feelings, he’ll go for it. I can’t stand the idea of you naked in front of him.”

  Petra sat up and looked him straight in the eye. “Naked?” she exclaimed loudly. “Why would I be naked?”

  “Modeling…isn’t that what you would do?” he asked, visibly confused by her reaction. “I saw the paintings he did of imaginary you. They were all nudes.”

  “The deal was I would be wearing a ball gown I wore a long time ago when I first met him,” she explained. Lovemaking had mollified her anger just enough that she could talk about it rationally.

  Sam’s handsome face lit up and he fell back against the pillow with a sigh. “Oh, I didn’t know,” he said lamely. “I’m sorry, Petra, I think I may be going crazy. I feel so…lost when it comes to my feelings for you. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.” She smiled, and her hand reached across to caress his face. “I feel things for you that I have never felt before for anyone, and it scares me.”

  “It scares me too,” Petra confessed, kissing him lightly on the lips. “I was a fool with Jonas. When I found out I had made the biggest mistake of my life, I tried to fix it and I only messed up even more.” Her voice brok
e and she swallowed unshed tears. Sam pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head in a protective gesture. “He didn’t even have the decency to hide his infidelities from me. He used to bring those women to my house and parade them in front of me, waving them under my nose, daring me to react. And I never did, not to him.” She sniffled a little into his chest.

  “You wanted to save your marriage,” Sam said quietly. “There’s no crime in that.”

  “No, I was so embarrassed by my mistake, I was trying to save something that never existed, Sam,” she protested. “I allowed him to treat me like a nothing, and for what? For an imaginary love affair, a made-up man? I hated myself for it. I still do.”

  In a swift move, Sam turned himself around to hover over her, supporting her in his arms. “Why would you hate yourself for something that wasn’t your fault?” he asked, nose almost touching hers. “I know I definitely don’t hate you…” He kissed her nose, then her forehead. “I want to be with you.” He kissed each of her cheeks. “I want to be the one that makes you smile and the only one that sees you naked.” Petra giggled and he kissed her mouth, as if trying to kiss away her pain. The kiss ignited the fire again, and soon it was hard to tell one apart from the other in the tangle of dancing bodies and bed linen.

  In the morning, they lay on the couch, drinking hot coffee and talking about nothing and everything. Languid and sated, they sat enjoying each other’s company, not worried for once about Jonas’ possible criminal involvement, not hurried to get anywhere. There was no space in their minds for separation, even if for just a few hours. The very thought of being away from each other was unbearable, and Petra found herself missing him at the thought. Is this what it feels like to be in love? She was now fairly certain she had never experienced it.

  But Petra knew. Instinctively, she knew what that all-encompassing emotion meant, but was unwilling to accept it. Yet, anyway. Both of them were happy, words and feelings of love burning in their hearts and tongues, but none brave enough to voice them. Petra was too scared of trusting her heart again. Sam was fighting his own demons, she was sure. Yet in their hearts there was a song playing over and over again, a love song as old as time that, try as they may, they couldn’t silence. And the words I love you kept coming to their lips before fading away into silence instead. Sam had his body do the talking until such time when, she hoped, he would gather the courage to face his own fears and tell the slightly-broken woman in his arms how much he really loved her.

  Chapter Seven

  PASTRIES, BRINE, AND GUMSHOES

  Sam

  The mud on his shoes mirrored the way he felt at that moment, having literally dragged himself through muck to try and dig up some dirt on Linden’s activities and coming up empty-handed. Now his clothes were dirty and his mood was foul. Not a good time for this, he thought. He was supposed to meet with Petra somewhere downtown, but he knew she was plotting something. For once he didn’t think it had anything to do with Jonas. His birthday was this weekend and Petra had been acting even more strangely than she normally did, sneaking around when she thought he didn’t notice, talking in whispers on the phone, and hiding things in the closet. Sam was pretty certain she was planning some surprise for his fortieth birthday. As much as he hated surprises, and birthdays for that matter, he couldn’t help being amused by the way his wonderfully goofy girlfriend had been acting. Normally her penchant for sneakiness would annoy and worry him, but being in this relationship had made him so deliriously happy that exasperation had morphed into tolerance and he was now much quicker to indulge her flights of lunacy.

  I better go get changed. He shook some dust from his jeans. If I show up this messy, I will never hear the end of it. He laughed to himself while walking to his parked car. It had been an incredible week. He had never imagined that being in love could cause such a heady rush to the system. Walking on air was not just an expression for him anymore. There was a renewed spring to his step, and he walked with a permanent smile plastered on his face, as if laughing at a private joke. If anybody would have told him he would feel this ridiculously elated over a relationship he would have called them crazy. Having already forgotten about his failed pursuit and muddy clothes, Sam drove to his apartment to change and pick up a few extra items to take to Petra’s place before heading downtown to go meet with his beautiful girl. Petra had asked him to meet her at a bakery by Pike’s Place because “I have a sudden craving for carbs, more specifically for French carbs,” she had said with that sly smile of hers.

  He saw her sitting outside on one of the iron chairs in the esplanade, wrapped in a woolly shawl of some kind. Crazy woman. The weather had been very cold as they approached the holidays. Some were even predicting snow, though the skies were clear blue. Sam waved at her from the street corner as he approached with great strides. Man, it was cold. Big puffy clouds of air came out of his mouth as he reached the bakery and the little goddess freezing outside.

  “Why are you out here in the cold?” With his hands he began rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm her up. In response, she stretched onto her tip-toes and kissed him on the lips. Hers were icy and reminded him of a sweet rich ice cream pop as they melted against his mouth. The chill immediately vanished and a gentle, comforting heat overtook them both as they stood outside, slowly savoring each other. “Let’s go in and have some of these famous French carbs you so have been craving,” he said, finally nudging her away from him.

  Inside the bakery it was warm and cozy like hot cocoa and smelled just as delicious. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed, sniffing the air. “I can almost taste the air.” Petra laughed, pulling him closer to the counter. “I think I have put on five pounds by just…breathing.”

  They sat in a corner booth and ordered a few pastries and hot coffee. Holding hands, they talked and relished each other’s company, ignoring the passage of time and the bustle of everyday living going on around them. “So, I finally modeled for Liam today,” she said suddenly, glancing at him from underneath half closed eyelids.

  Sam’s face snapped up. Hearing that name was like being stung by a bee. Liam still sounded and felt much like a threat to his happiness with Petra, even though, to be fair, the man hadn’t done or said anything to make Sam think that he was still pursuing her. Actually, in spite of himself, Sam liked Liam. He seemed like a solid guy, honest and caring. Loving Petra like he did, Sam could not lay fault on a man who had defended her the way he had that day they were hiding in the closet. Only an upstanding guy would challenge his best friend to defend a woman who was no longer in the picture. The Brit had not hesitated calling Jonas on his cowardice and dishonesty toward Petra, and Sam respected him for that. However, he was still very much a risky pawn in this game of love they were playing. “Really?” he exclaimed, trying to keep the annoyance off his voice.

  A smile and a knowing twinkle of the eye told him she was testing him. “I still fit in that gown from years ago,” she said, her soft voice flowing like cascading water, soothing his nerves, calming his fears. “Can’t tell you how good that felt.” She chuckled softly. “Are you mad?”

  Anxious, yes, but mad? How could he ever be truly mad at her? Even when he thought he was, turned out he was mad at himself. “You got dressed in private, right?” he asked mischievously. “I will have to poke his eyes out if he saw you undress.”

  “No worries,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I changed in our closet.”

  “Our closet?” he exclaimed with a laugh. “Didn’t realize we own any part of Liam’s studio.”

  “Well, since we almost made love in that closet, I think that qualifies us as part owners at least.” Then, she stared at him intently as if trying to read his mind. His stomach stirred with the first butterflies of desire. “Maybe one day, when Liam is out of town, we could go back there and finish what we started.” Sam almost choked on his coffee. Thanks, Petra. Now I need a cold shower.

  “Your birthday is this Saturday,” she reminded him, as if he couldn’t remember it him
self. “I want to do something special for you. I know you don’t like surprises.” A naughty smile illuminated her oval face. “Unless they come wrapped in lingerie.”

  “You make me sound like a pervert,” he protested, taking a big bite of an éclair and squirting its filling onto his shirt. “Damn! I already changed once today.”

  Laughing, Petra leaned over the table and with her tongue she licked a small glob of cream that had lodged itself in the corner of his lips. Sam moaned. “Stop it. Or I will have to take you right here in front of everybody,” he warned, caressing her face with his fingers and his eyes. She laughed again.

  “So, I gave up on throwing you a party,” she continued, sitting back down. He sighed in relief. She could set him on fire with just one look. “Instead, I will cook you a special meal and—well, you’ll have to wait for it.”

  “I have to run some errands first thing Saturday,” he said, emptying his cup with a big gulp. “My employers want a report that morning, so I have to run into town and do that. After, I am all yours.” For the day and forever.