Behind the Curtain

by BETH KERY

  “Here, let’s sit down,” he suggested, waving over at the big rock.

  They sat side by side. She curled into him, her cheek against his ribs, her arms encircling his waist. He pulled her tight against him. The singular scent of her hair and the feeling of her soft, curving body against his stroking hand didn’t help much in his nonselfish course of action.

  “What were you doing?” she murmured quietly, her mouth near his chest. “When I texted?”

  He thought of finding his cell phone, Eric’s note and the key to the beach house. A vivid imagined picture popped into his head of Eric walking into his dad’s office in Chicago, that smug smile Asher hated plastered on his face. He tamped down a flare of fury and opened his hand at the back of her head.

  “Nothing. Just eating breakfast with the guys,” he said, stroking her hair.

  She placed a hand on his abdomen. He stilled beneath her touch, his nerves flickering in awareness.

  “I guess Rudy and Jimmy knew. About me staying with you last night,” he heard her say.

  “They didn’t say anything about it. They’re not like that.”

  “They aren’t?”

  He resumed stroking her hair. Her hand caressed his stomach ever so slightly, but his brain charted every minuscule shift.

  “Well, Jimmy isn’t. Rudy can be. In other situations, maybe. But he wouldn’t be. Not about you,” he tried to explain, finding it difficult to focus with her touching him.

  “Not about me?” she asked, lifting her chin and meeting his stare.

  “Yeah. He knows better by now.” He jerked his gaze off her full, pink mouth when he noticed her eyebrows arch in a query. “He knows better than to say anything crude about you in front of me.”

  A smile curved her mouth. Much to his horror, he felt himself go rock hard at the sight. His cock tingled and tightened.

  “Because he knows you’d defend my honor?” she asked him.

  He shrugged uneasily. She laughed and shook her head, looking a little sad.

  “What’s wrong?” he wondered.

  “After last night, I haven’t got much left.”

  “Got much left of what?” he asked, confused.

  “Honor.”

  He stiffened. He put his hand on her chin, lifting her face to his. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” he demanded. “I honor you more now than I ever have.”

  Her mouth fell open, and he could tell he’d surprised her by his intensity.

  “Does that mean you’re regretting it? Last night?” he asked, finding the idea reprehensible . . . just wrong on so many levels.

  She shook her head rapidly, her long hair whisking across his hand at her back, some of it spilling onto his crotch. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. Of course I don’t regret it. How could I ever regret something so amazing?”

  “You sounded like you regretted it just a minute ago,” he said slowly. “When you were talking about your grandmother.”

  “It was hard, finding out about Mamma Sophia the way I did,” she said quietly. “I know I sound confused. Upset. Mostly because I am. But I’d never change last night, Asher. Not even if I had the power to go back and do things differently. I’d never change us.”

  Her hand moved again on his abdomen, gliding lower. He gritted his teeth and caught it at the wrist.

  “Don’t,” he told her in a strained voice. He felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now. It’s not . . . appropriate, I know, given what’s happened to your grandmother and everything you’re feeling. But I can’t seem to stop it.” When he noticed her slightly incredulous glance, he closed his eyes wearily. There was no point in trying to hide it from her. His shame was as flagrant as his arousal. He nodded down toward his crotch. When she didn’t speak, he pried open his eyelids.

  She was staring directly at where he burned. His erection tented his shorts, his need for her a huge, inescapable red flag.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, miserable at the idea of her being exposed to his crudeness while she was suffering. If he couldn’t comfort her, then he should leave. She shouldn’t be subjected to this. He started to stand, but she halted him in an instant by placing her hand between his legs. She cupped the head of his cock through his shorts and met his stare. Color spread on her cheeks, but he knew by the fierce glint in her clear green eyes she wasn’t embarrassed.

  She’d just caught fire.

  “You think it’s wrong? That you want to make love to me? That I want to make love to you?” she asked.

  “I want to comfort you,” he grated out, because her hand was moving on his cock, and God, it felt good. He started to sweat in earnest. His head fell back and he stared up at the sky through crossed eyes. “I’ve never felt this way about someone, so I don’t know how to do it right . . . how to be there for you.”

  “I think you know how to do it more than right,” he heard her say through the roar in his ears.

  “Jesus, Laila,” he hissed, because she was unfastening his shorts with fleet fingers. The feeling of her knuckles brushing against his balls made him tense hard. He caught both of her wrists at once and jerked her against him, her fists pressing against his chest and her mouth just inches away from his. His head dipped. He caught her scent and snarled slightly. All he could think about was penetrating her parted lips with his tongue.

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you wanting to make love to me right now. I want it too,” she said shakily. “I’ve thought about it all morning. At first, I thought it was . . . indecent or something, to keep imagining it, to keep remembering last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about being with you again, even while I was at the hospital. It felt selfish. Dirty.” She twisted her forearms gently but firmly. Slowly, he released her, compelled by something he read in her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands and moved her mouth to within inches of his. “But I was wrong, Asher. It would never be selfish or wrong. Not with you.”

  Her mouth brushed against his. His body leapt in response. Holding his stare, she dropped her hand again between his thighs and caressed him through his clothing. He winced at the sharpness of the pleasure.

  “I know you want to comfort me. This will. It’s all okay, Asher. Because it’s us.”

  She stood and faced him. He watched, utterly captivated, as she began to undress in front of him.

  • • •

  She wanted to cry, seeing him sitting there, so tense. So torn. His handsome face was flushed and rigid. She sensed his torment and his need doing battle, swaying on some imagined balance beam inside him.

  She whisked her panties—the last of her clothing—down her thighs and stepped out of them. When she stood before him, naked, she wasn’t exactly sure what to do next.

  Or what he’d do. She knew he was holding himself on a fraying leash. She wasn’t trying to test him. It was just that she needed him so badly in that moment. She never felt so exposed in her life . . . so vulnerable as she did, standing there in front of him.

  But then he stood, and without saying anything, began to undress. A few seconds later, they faced each other on the beach, naked. He’d taken a condom from his wallet and now held it in his right hand. Her gaze trailed down over him. Her lungs locked. He was so beautiful to her.

  “My mother has always said I was selfish,” he said, and she knew he’d noticed her staring at his heavy erection.

  Her throat grew tight and achy at what she saw in his eyes: sharp desire and a kind of tired acceptance. The latter killed her a little. She stepped forward and took the condom from him. She ripped open the package, holding his stare.

  “She’s wrong. What you’re doing is the exact opposite of selfish,” she insisted, stepping toward him.

  They both rolled on the condom together.

  A moment late
r, she came down over him. He sat on the big rock, their clothes beneath him. She clutched his hard shoulder muscles. He opened his large hands beneath her bottom, taking much of her weight. She felt his muscles flex tight as he lowered her slowly onto his cock. Her tissues still stung a little from last night. But the overall feeling that pulsed in her brain was pure relief at the sensation of him filling her.

  He was so tense, she sensed a slight shaking in his powerful body.

  She touched his face gently, a feeling of awe swelling in her.

  “Kan bghik,” he grated out. I want you. “So damn much, Laila.” He pulled her closer, sheathing himself in her to the hilt.

  Laila gasped as sensation swelled tight in her.

  “And I’ve never honored you more for it,” she told him fiercely, before she rolled her hips, riding him. He hissed. His hold on her tightened.

  He finally let go of his restraint. She felt it with every cell in her being. He pulsed her over him, taking the lead, controlling their dance with his powerful upper body. Pleasure inundated her. For a few blessed minutes, their fire reigned supreme, incinerating everything . . . making everything clean.

  “You’re so beautiful right now,” she heard him say as if from far away. She cracked open her eyelids and saw that he watched her narrowly as she moved up and down over him. He grasped her hip in his big hand and reached with his thumb, rubbing her slick clitoris. She cried out shakily. “Come here,” he said, his mouth hard with mounting lust. He held her tightly to him, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He pumped her onto his cock in short, firm strokes, his muscles bunching hard with the effort. All the while, he sucked and pressed and pleasured her until she sizzled with the friction and heat. Just as she was about to light up, he grabbed her head and brought her mouth to his.

  She screamed into his possessive kiss as pleasure blasted through her. Clutching him for all she was worth, she shifted her hips, desperate to bring him deeper. Pain fractured her shuddering bliss. He broke their kiss.

  “What?” he demanded, glancing down to her leg.

  “It’s nothing,” she moaned, her body still vibrating in aftershocks of pleasure.

  “It’s not nothing. You scraped your knee on the damn rock,” he said, his face tight with concern. She glanced down dazedly, seeing that his shirt had slipped out from beneath them during their more heated moments. Blood smeared her knee.

  “Here,” Asher said, lifting her off him.

  “No . . . don’t, Asher,” she wailed. He was still hugely erect. It felt horrible, having their connection so abruptly broken. His face went tight with something that looked like pain, but he seemed determined. He set her on her feet next to the rock and stood next to her.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Barely. It’s a little scrape,” she moaned, feeling feverish. His cock jutted out between his thighs, impossible for her to ignore. She fisted the shaft and tugged on him boldly. He shut his eyes and groaned deep in his throat. “I’m fine, Asher. Make love to me.”

  She fisted him tighter and pumped him briskly. He grimaced in pleasure, but she still sensed his hesitation. He was still concerned about a tiny scrape on her knee and a little blood. Her hand still on his cock, she reached behind his head and pulled him down to her. She nipped at his lips and stroked him with her hand. He was as hard as stone and slick with her juices.

  Then it happened. She felt his restraint break. He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her against him. His tongue sank between her lips. His groan was guttural. Primal. Mixed triumph and arousal flooded through her.

  “Laila,” he muttered thickly a moment later, his hot mouth against her neck. “You make me crazy.”

  She was too dazed with arousal to answer logically. She tightened her hold on his erection, wanting so badly to be joined with him again. Then he was turning her in his arms and tensely giving her instructions. She leaned over the rock. He entered her from behind. Then there was only him, filling up her world.

  “Asher,” she moaned, inundated. Overwhelmed.

  All of his hesitation had vanished. He took her with a focused, deliberate abandonment. She loved his greediness. In that moment with him on that beach, she learned to crave his single-minded, complete possession of her.

  She existed with him at the heart of a fire. He was the source, his long, powerful thrusts building the friction so perfectly. The sound of their bodies crashing together and his low growls of pleasure pulsed in her ears, faster and faster, louder and louder. She screamed through her clenched teeth and ignited again, wave after wave of release pulsing through her.

  The sound of his roar penetrated her climax. She felt his cock swell inside her, then heard his ragged, rough groan as he began to come while he held himself deep inside her.

  Suddenly, he cursed and jerked his cock out of her.

  “God, Laila,” he groaned, and she heard the abject misery in his tone. She tried to turn around, startled, recognizing in a dazed way that something was wrong. He held her hips in place, though. She felt his cock brush against her ass . . . and wetness.

  “The condom broke,” he said tensely between pants.

  Chapter Fifteen

  What?” She was too disoriented to fully absorb what he’d said, let alone become worried about it.

  “Come on,” he said, gently but firmly urging her to stand.

  “Asher, I don’t—”

  “Get in the water, Laila. You need to wash off,” he insisted. She turned, studying his face. He looked fierce. Panicked? “I withdrew when I realized something didn’t feel right. When I did, I saw the condom had broken. I probably came some inside you. I’m not sure . . .”

  His anxiety finally penetrated her sated brain. She let him lead her to the water’s edge. They waded in together, the cold water helping to clear her head. He helped her to rinse off. After she’d washed herself as best she could, she turned to face him. The water level was at her neck, but much of his chest was exposed. For a moment, they just stared at each other as they stood in the calm water.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, and she sensed his intense regret. “Yeah, it was, actually. I was going at you like a madman. It’s not surprising it broke.”

  She placed her hand on his chest. She could feel his rapid, strong heartbeat. “I was just as into it as you were. It felt so good.”

  Tears stung her eyes when she witnessed his misery. “I wanted to comfort you,” he said, frowning. “Now look at what I did.”

  “You did comfort me. You made me forget everything in those moments. It was an accident, Asher. They aren’t supposed to break. You know that.”

  “Do you think the timing is right?” he asked her reluctantly.

  She blinked. It took her a moment to understand his meaning. No wonder he looked so worried.

  “No,” she said after thinking a moment. “I should start my period in a few days.”

  He exhaled, looking a little relieved. He grabbed her wrist and pressed the palm of her hand against his lips.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” she whispered, watching him kiss her.

  “What?”

  “Thinking about being pregnant.”

  Her quietly uttered words seemed to hang in the air between them. For a few seconds, she vividly imagined it: a new life growing inside her. A person. A child—Asher’s and hers. There would be no more secrets. A baby would force their hand. It would demand that they burn all their bridges . . . forge a new path toward the future, one where they were together. A flash of euphoria went through her.

  His face was rigid with worry. She looked down, averting her eyes. What if he’d read her mind? What if he’d sensed her momentary selfishness? How could she fantasize about something that would be such a nightmare for him and his future? How could she dream about someth
ing that would wound her family so deeply?

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure you’re not. I don’t think I actually came that much inside you. But if you were—”

  “I’m sure I’m not too,” she interrupted him breathlessly. She smiled to cover her unrest. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. “It’s stupid, to worry about it, when the chances are so small. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.” She stared up at the position of the sun behind a bank of clouds.

  “I should probably be going. We’ll be going to the hospital in a little while.”

  “Laila—”

  “It’s okay, Asher,” she said, going up on her tiptoes and kissing his mouth. She didn’t think she could stand it if he apologized again . . . if she saw his regret. “I asked you here because I knew you’d make me feel better. And you did,” she assured him quietly. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “That’s all that matters right now,” she said, kissing him once more before she turned and waded to shore.

  • • •

  Late that afternoon, Tahi plopped down next to her in the hospital waiting room, her cell phone clutched in her hand. Laila’s family was taking turns visiting with Mamma Sophia. The hospital rooms weren’t large, and her grandmother shared hers with another woman. The nurses asked that only two people visit with her at a time. Presently, Laila’s and Tahi’s mothers were in there. Everyone else—including Tahi’s brother Zarif, who had just arrived from Detroit—had gone down to the cafeteria for an early dinner. Laila and Tahi weren’t hungry, though, and had opted to stay in the waiting room.

  Tahi glanced over her shoulder, making sure they were alone, before she spoke.

  “What did Asher tell you earlier about Eric leaving last night?”

  “Nothing. Eric left?” Laila asked, confused.