Fantasy 03 - Double Fantasy

by Cheryl Holt

  "What do you want from me?" she wailed.

  "Let me show you."

  In another quick flip, she was on the bottom, and he was hiking up her skirts and unbuttoning his trousers. To her ultimate disgust, she didn't put up the slightest resistance. Since he was extremely aroused, he didn't bother with any seduction. He simply gripped her thighs and impaled himself.

  Immediately, he started to flex, and she groaned with delight and arched into him, meeting him thrust for thrust, and swiftly he was at the end. He came in a deep, satisfying rush of pleasure, and as he emptied himself against her womb, she joined in. They soared to the heavens, then floated down.

  But as the commotion waned, he murmured, T love you."

  She froze. "What did you say?" "I love you, Anne. That's what I hurried home to tell you."

  The remark was the worst, most insulting thing he could have said. He had no notion of what love was, and she was crushed that he'd offer the pathetic sentiment.

  "No, you don't. You don't love me."

  Her dubious scowl humored him, and he chuckled. "It's shocking, I know. I can hardly believe it myself."

  "No ... no ... no ..." She shook her head, her dread rising, her heart aching. "You are not going to do this to me."

  "Do what?"

  "You are not going to lie—not when the subject matters so much to me."

  She squirmed out from under him to perch on the edge of the bed.

  He moved to the floor and knelt in front of her.

  "How am I lying to you?" he gently asked.

  "You've returned to Gladstone—when I have no clue why you would—and you've dragged me off and had sex with me, and now, you're whispering all these ridiculous comments."

  "They're not ridiculous."

  "They are when you don't mean any of them. This is all a big game to you." "Is that what you think?"

  "It's what I know! And I'm such a gullible fool that I'll sit here and listen to you and fall in love with you all over again. Then when you're bored, or your wanderlust takes over, you'll disappear." She grabbed his shirt and shook him. "I won't do this with you. I won't! You never get to break my heart again."

  She slid by him, and she wanted to run off, to find a quiet place where he would leave her be, but where could she go that he wouldn't follow? Instead, she went to the window seat and climbed onto the cushion, and she gazed out at the gray day that perfectly matched her mood.

  He came up behind her, but he didn't reach for her, and she was glad. When he touched her, she couldn't concentrate, and she made all the wrong decisions. They stood apart, silent and morose, like two strangers on the street.

  "I always loved the snow," she finally said.

  "I've rarely seen it."

  "Really?"

  "I hate the cold, so we mostly stayed in the south."

  An awkward pause ensued, and she used it to muse over what a little gem of information he'd provided. He never discussed himself or his past. She didn't know his favorite color, his favorite food, or his mother's maiden name. What kind of a marriage was that?

  'Turn around," he urged. "Look at me."

  "No."

  He sighed with resignation. "It's probably better if you don't. Keep staring outside."

  "Why?"

  "It will be easier for me to tell you things."

  She'd rather have bitten off her tongue than inquire, but she caught herself asking, "What things?”

  "While I was away, I had a lot of time to think. I couldn't eat or sleep, and I couldn't figure out why."

  "And ... ?"

  "It dawned on me that I was in love with you," he claimed. "I'd persuaded myself that I didn't care about anybody, that I liked being alone."

  "But not anymore?"

  "No, not since I was with you over the summer." He swallowed twice and took a step nearer. "I've been so lonely without you, and I want to come home."

  The request was so earnest, so filled with emotion, and she pressed her forehead to the cool glass and prayed for guidance.

  "I thought you didn't have a home."

  "Of course I do, silly. It's wherever you are."

  It was the sweetest statement he could have uttered, and a spark of hope flared. She peered at him over her shoulder. He seemed weary and beaten down, his battles against the entire world having taken their toll.

  "I left because I was afraid," he admitted.

  "Afraid of what?"

  "Of caring about you. Everyone I ever loved left me, so I learned to be the one who left first. I didn't know how to carry on any other way."

  "You hurt me."

  "For which I'm eternally sorry, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. If you'll let me ... ?"

  He extended his hand, and it hovered there, a link, a tether, to everything she'd ever wanted. Dare she believe him? Dare she trust him?

  She spun toward him. With her on her knees in the window, and him standing on the floor, they were eye-to-eye for a change.

  "Swear to me that it's forever."

  "I swear it," he said without a flicker of hesitation.

  "There can't be any other women."

  "I don't want any other women. Only you."

  "If I ever hear that you so much as glanced at a parlor maid, I'll do to you what Ophelia did to Percy. That kind of rage appeals to me."

  He gave a mock shudder. "You drive a hard bargain, but I agree to your terms. If I hurt you again, I'll accept whatever punishment you choose to inflict."

  "I want children."

  "I'll give you a dozen."

  "And I'll expect you to be around to help me raise them."

  "I can't wait."

  Tentatively, she reached out and twined her fingers with his.

  "You'd better mean it," she warned. "I do."

  "If you leave again, I'll find you and kill you for going."

  "I won't ever leave. I tried it before, only to discover that everything I need is here with you."

  She studied his solemn expression. He seemed truthful, and his promises sounded genuine. She could believe him or not, and she decided to believe him.

  Who could say what the morrow would bring? They might be together for the next hundred years, or tragedy could strike the following morning. Wasn't it best to grab for every chance at happiness?

  She was an optimist. She would hope for the hundred years, and she would work to make it a reality.

  "Stay here, Jamie," she implored, pulling him to her. "Stay right here with me."

  "I will," he vowed. "I always will."

  "I need you."

  "I need you more."

  He hugged her till she couldn't breathe, and when he finally drew away, he was shivering.

  "This room is cold as the dickens," he said.

  "Yes, it is, and you hate the cold."

  "Would it be too much to ask that we go over and snuggle under the quilts?"

  "To do what... ?" As if she didn't know!

  "To make love till next week. What would you suppose? I have some catching up to do."

  He swooped her into his arms and walked to the bed.

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