“We should go.” Something in my voice caused Sam’s head to snap in my direction. He stood and snatched up his jacket.
“Is everything all right?” Randall’s enforcer voice he’d used with the bodyguards was back full force. He was reading my face. Dale paled with concern.
“I’m great.” My sharp comment caused Dale’s eyes to narrow, and he stood. Unable to watch the fallout, I walked off into the dark, and soon Sam was at my side. The feel of his strong hand on the small of my back allowed me to take a much needed deep breath.
He gave me time to walk off some of the adrenaline coursing through my system, and we were all the way back to the planked walkway when he finally spoke. “Wanna talk about it?”
“I’m done talking.” I pushed him against the guardrail and pulled his mouth down to mine. He recovered quickly from his initial surprise, and his hands were in my hair seconds later as our tongues touched. His salty, tart taste made me lightheaded, and I pressed the full length of myself against him.
He pulled his mouth away as his hand slipped inside the low neckline of my dress. His calloused thumb caressed my nipple, and the slightly scratchy sensation made me tingle low in my belly. I sighed as his wet kisses trailed from my jaw to my collarbone. His hands gripped my ass, and he picked me up, my legs squeezing around him before I was consciously aware I was doing it. With one arm I clung to his muscular shoulders while the other tugged at his thick hair. He swung around and set me on the guardrail, pushing his groin between my legs. One hand was still on my ass and the other down my top and I knew if I didn’t stop him, our first time would be right here out in the open. Our friends at the restaurant could come back any time, and the thought of Violet or Trip bringing Maisie down to the ocean sobered me up instantly.
“Sam. Stop,” I whispered, and he pulled away with curious, glassy eyes. “Let’s get to the house. I don’t want the others to walk up and see this.”
I thought he might get pissed, but he laughed. “Good. We can take a shower together. No offense, but you taste like bug spray.”
I laughed at his frankness, and he helped me down from the guardrail. Every cell of my body felt ripe and engorged, and I think he felt the same since we practically power-walked back to the house. As we opened the sliding glass door, he turned to me.
“Which room are you in?”
“The second floor. First door on the right.” I replied.
“I’m just across the hall,” he replied with a smirk. “Trip’s got a twisted sense of humor.”
We climbed the stairs to the second floor. He opened his door first and then mine. His had a king sized bed, but mine had an en suite bath.
“We have a winner.” He gestured to my room like a game show host, and I shushed him. That’s when we heard the strangest thing. We paused, both listening intently. The all-too familiar sound of mattress springs squeaking rhythmically drifted from the room at the end of the hall. The master bedroom. Our eyes met…then widened.
“Oh my fucking God,” he whispered as we both realized it had to be Trip and Violet.
“Well, that was easy,” I whispered back as he practically shoved me across the threshold into my room. “Where’s Maisie?”
“She has a fairy princess room that takes up half the third floor.” He closed the door behind him, and when we could still hear the mattress spring symphony, he switched on the radio on the bedside table. I snorted appreciatively, but my smile evaporated as Sam began to unbutton his shirt. Unlike last time, the lamp was on, so I got to fully appreciate the impressive view as he reached over his head and tugged his undershirt off. The definition of his body impressed me enough that the first thought I had was to snap some pics with my cell.
Remembering I wasn’t just a spectator, I kicked off my sandals and unzipped the side panel of my dress. His eyes never left me as he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. The thin fabric of his boxers could barely contain how ready he was, and like a kid on Christmas, I was anxious to see what was in that stocking.
I was in only panties now, and I suddenly felt the urge to cover my breasts with my hands. It was the way his eyes seemed to see all of me at one. No…into me. The connection we shared was powerful and very overwhelming.
He stepped forward and pulled me to him, his eyes ensnaring mine. I started to say something—I’m not even sure what-- but he covered my mouth with his. He lips were full, soft, and perfectly matched with mine. The sandalwood scent of him filled my nostrils, and when he pulled his lips away, his stubble made me shiver as it scratched the sensitive skin of my neck and chest. When his tongue darted over my nipple, I stumbled back toward the bathroom with him still attached to my breast. My breath came out in small gasps as he switched to my other breast, sucking it hungrily, as if attuned to every sound that escaped me. His mouth returned to mine, and his kisses grew more and more urgent. As I ran my hand across the smooth skin of his rock- hard chest, I could feel his heart thudding under my palm.
He put a hand on the bathroom door behind me, and when we tumbled through, we were greeted with no shower, but an oversized claw foot tub. Instantly, I recalled my bathtub dream and though I didn’t think it were possible, I felt even wetter.
“So much for a shower.” Sam’s words were practically a growl, as he swept me into his arms and carried me back to the bed. He lowered me onto the comforter, and his show of strength was so hot that I tugged at the waist of his boxers, desperate to have him inside me. His hand slid up my thigh and under the fragile material of my panties, and the moment I felt his finger slide into me, it was as if I’d plunged headfirst into an icy pond.
I froze, every muscle in my body suddenly rigid and tense. My mouth went dry, and I felt my heart leap into my throat. I wanted to beg him to stop, but my words were caught. I stared trembling. I felt my arms go numb and dropped them to my sides. Sam pulled his mouth from mine and leaned over the edge of the bed.
He pulled a condom from his jeans pocket, but when he turned back to look at me, the smiled left his face, and the condom fell from his hands and floated like a feather onto the bedspread.
“What’s wrong?” He collapsed onto the mattress, his eyes narrowing as he propped himself up on one elbow. “Did I hurt you?”
I tried again to speak, but a sob came out instead. I felt like I was trapped inside a soundproof prison, but the cage was my own traitorous body. I really wanted to be with Sam. I needed him to touch me, to hold me and connect with me. But the muscle memory my monster left behind overruled all my wants and wishes. I raised my shaky hands to my face and hid behind them. Something sprung free inside me, and I erupted in tears as I felt all the wheels fly off at the same time. My emotions were overpowering…crippling. Along with my innocence, he’d stolen this from me, too. That bastard had taken my ability to enjoy Sam and to allow him to enjoy me. I couldn’t contain the feral moan that escaped my lips. I’m not sure how long this went on because when the patchwork fabric of your soul is it torn in two, it seems to happen in slow motion.
I was sure by the time I pulled myself together enough to remove my hands from my tear-stung eyes Sam would be gone. Instead, I felt a comforter placed on me and his arms around me. He kissed my hair and stroked it, and I felt my entire being unclench in that second. I felt like a pile of jelly as I collapsed into him. As my breathing began to steady, I had the chance to mentally scold myself for being such a hot mess.
Wow, Annie. That was sexy.
The sherbet hues of dawn shifted the color of the sky, and as the last bit of the blissful insensibility that is sleep slipped from my weary mind, I bolted up in bed. The sheet fell from my bare body, and I snatched it up, twisting it in a knot between my naked breasts. Reluctantly, I turned my head to the right and saw that Reg was awake. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. Though he’d never once smoked in the house even on his drunkest day, he held a lit cigarette in his right hand.
Seeing his scars from the fire for the first time, my breath caught painful
ly. I found myself ambushed by their beauty; only Reg could manage to perfectly burn himself. The remnants of his excruciating debacle matched his tattoos with astounding accuracy. A Monarch-worthy result that, as with all things regarding my ex-husband, mesmerized me. I nearly succumbed to temptation and reached out to touch his damaged flesh. I hated that I wasn’t there to nurse him and shower him with all the love and energy he deserved. But I’d been all tapped out by then and working through the final stages of my grief. Losing Reg to alcohol was like losing a limb. No matter how clean the cut and how long I was without him, his phantom pain would always haunt me.
Still sore from hours of raw animalistic sex, I crawled gingerly across the mattress until I could kneel behind him and wrap my arms around him. I pressed my cheek to his grafted skin and my naked chest to his back. I breathed slow deep breaths, matching my rhythm with his. Reg was my missing other half, and the only time I was at perfect peace was when we were intertwined. Sadly, it was also when I waged my bloodiest wars.
His hand rested on top of mine and the wings of my heart flapped as if preparing to soar. Alarmed, I sat back and severed the connection. I was afraid of him and also tempted to slip my hands around his throat. The story of our engagement party and Sam’s real father was a tragic one, but it hadn’t needed to be. I’d been his fiancé and his wife not much after that. Had he taken his vows to me as seriously as the promises to his father, we’d probably be fighting about names for our third baby. Instead we sat here naked, clinging to the tattered shreds of our dignity after stupidly tumbling into bed together.
At first, the night before had all the trappings of closure. After the others decided to track down the birthday boy, Maisie claimed to be hungry again. The three of us pulled out leftovers and had what resembled a family dinner around the dining room table of what should have been our weekend getaway home. The bittersweet moment was punctuated when my cranky daughter decided to throw a tantrum about wanting a second helping of cake and ice cream. Trip handled her expertly, with the same casual grace he used to use on me, and talked her into a story instead. She begged him to read her favorite book to her in her canopy bed, and two and a half storybooks later, she was out like a light.
We tiptoed downstairs and went onto the wrap around porch for round two of confessions and apologies. Reg laughed as he confessed his and Annie’s plan for him to get me back and explained how Sam overheard his fight with Wakefield outside the gala. He said when I saw him struggling by the bar afterward…that that was the most tempted he’d ever been to have a drink. And he’d found the inner strength to walk away dry. He finally felt like he’d turned a corner; sobriety would be his lifestyle, not a passing fad. And I believed him. Because he believed it, and I knew that had been the missing link all the times before.
“I’m glad, Reg.” I’d told him, and though my smile felt real, it also felt really dismal. “I wish…”
I trailed off, knowing we shouldn’t go down that road. Our marriage had been a series of tragic mistakes. Looking back, our entire relationship had been insanity blended with carnal sex and topped off with brandy infused whipped topping.
“What?” Those sad bedroom eyes implored me to open up to him. I had to break eye contact, but my aching heart muscles were too weak for the task.
“I wish you’d believed more in us.” Saying it out loud made my throat tense painfully. Discussing “us” was a lot like talking about a dead friend. I sipped my warm tea in an attempt to thaw the frost settling over me. Fixated on the steam rising from my mug, I didn’t see him move until he was right in front of me. He took the cup from my hand and set it on the windowsill beside me. My pulse quickened at the layers of emotion in his eyes, and I felt my body respond to him. His hand was on the windowsill above me, and I took a half step back against the glass. I felt the pull of his magnetism and braced myself as if perched at the top of the first drop of a roller coaster. He inched forward, his eyes searching mine for a white flag of surrender, and the heat that flared between us could have burned the place to the ground.
“I always believed.” His nose brushed mine, and he pulled back an inch at the electric sensation that passed through us both. I was a prisoner to his imploring determination and unwilling to escape my bonds.
From the moment Reg’s lips had brushed against mine to my third orgasm, Dashul hadn’t even crossed my mind. Now, as I sat in the dawning light waiting for Reg to turn my way, he crept into my consciousness like a cat burglar. Regret wafted up as the dust of my actions settled around me. My breathing became more labored as I willed Reg to look at me, to at least acknowledge that I wasn’t alone with my guilt. He moved suddenly, stamping out his cigarette in one swift violent motion.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, Vi. I’m a wrecking ball. I’m sorry.” He was on his feet, and I watched him rake his hands through his tousled hair and recalled with painful clarity doing the same to his hair when his head was between my legs the night before. His movements were jerky as he pulled on his jeans. I felt the blood rush from my face as I slowly rose to my feet.
“You’re sorry? No, Reg. I’m sorry. I’ve had enough of your apologies to last me three fucking lifetimes. Why the hell do I keep doing this to myself?” With the frantic speed of a child at an Easter egg hunt, I flitted around the room searching for my discarded clothing. Shame avalanched over me as I stepped into my panties and hurriedly hooked my bra.
“I ruin everything,” he sighed, crossing toward me, but I held up a hand, clutching my clothes to me with the other. His hurt was obvious, and for a moment I felt victorious. Petty as it was, it felt nice to inflict pain on my torturer for a change.
“Don’t you touch me,” I seethed. “Watching you with your mother yesterday, you’d think you had some fight in you somewhere. But I guess Maisie and I aren’t worth the effort.”
You’d have thought I’d stabbed him in the chest. He looked crestfallen. “I love you and Maisie. With all my heart. The two of you are all that’s kept me alive.”
His tardy words were another assault on my barricade, but I was having no more of it. I tossed my shirt on over my head and tried to breathe through my narrowing windpipe. My face was so hot, it felt branded as I hopped a leg into my pants. I choked out my words. “If you loved us, Reg…really loved us-you’d go away and never come back.”
The wounded look on his face clawed at me. I couldn’t help but hurt when he ached. No legal piece of paper could undo our “for better or worse” clause. Fucking soul mates.
I picked up my shoes and flung open the bedroom door. Annie and Sam were in the hall with their bags, and startled, they both spun in my direction. I barely paused as I traipsed past them and up the stairs to rouse my daughter. When Maisie’s bed was empty, I realized that last night’s indiscretion was likely the talk of the house. I took a moment to gather my scattered dignity and covered my face with my hands. I was painfully aware of my frigid platinum engagement ring against my brow, and I dropped my hands to my sides with a dramatic exhale. I was humiliated that I’d defiled my prospective happily-ever-after for one blissful night of what could’ve been. I cursed the day Reg had sauntered into my life with his sleepy eyes and sexy voice. I remembered the final card that I held, and in my fury I raced down the stairs to deal it.
I stormed toward his room through the now empty hallway and flung his door open. He’d just pulled a shirt on over his head and looked astonished that I was back. I crossed to him, not only so no one else would hear me, but so I could watch every muscle in his face as I tossed my Molotov cocktail into his trenches.
“A month after you wrecked our car with my baby girl in the backseat? I went and had an abortion. It was the best decision I ever made.”
His outright disbelief was my only reward. A second later, he looked at me as if he’d never seen me before. For some stupid reason, I hadn’t expected the backsplash of pain his reaction caused me, and I shrunk back like he’d slapped me.
“Why?” That one quiet syllab
le from him spoke volumes. Without taking my eyes from him, I backed toward the door. Having just thrown my worst mistake in Reg’s face was like tossing him a hand grenade without pulling the pin. I had no choice but to retreat. He took a step toward me, and I lifted my chin with all the courage I could muster.
“You know exactly why.” I fled down the stairs and tried not to show how embarrassed I was when I saw Dale, Annabelle, and Sam eating cereal at the table with Maisie. They looked like a pack of deer in headlights, and Annabelle actually dropped her spoon when she looked up at my face.
“We gotta go, Baby Girl.” I scooped Maisie out of her chair and shot toward the door.
“But Mama, I’m not done with my Crunchberries!” she wailed as I raced for the car. I heard Reg call my name, but it only made me move faster. “You forgot my shoes, Mama! I want to give Daddy a bye-bye kiss!”
My hands shook so badly that I struggled to buckle her car seat. Somehow I prevailed, and I scrambled into the car and locked the doors when I saw Reg running toward me across the lawn.
It didn’t take a lip reader to see he was shouting my name, but my soundproof car spared us having to hear it. His anguished face made my heart hurt regardless, and as I backed out of the driveway, he threw himself onto the hood.
“Vi!” His muffled voice seemed to reach down inside me and get tangled in my heart strings. I slammed on my brakes and helplessly watched the tears stream down his cheeks. Maisie barked frantic demands at me from the back seat, and I realized that I was crying too. Unable to take back what I’d said, I resorted to hiding behind my anger. I stared him down and blared on the horn. Slowly and without taking his eyes from mine, he pushed off of the car and backed away. I managed to get about a mile down the highway before I had to pull over.
I beat on the steering wheel like a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. After several minutes, my hands throbbed but nowhere near as badly as the gaping hole in my chest did. As my breathing began to steady, I nervously glanced at my child with eyes like her father in the rearview mirror, wondering exactly how many years of therapy I was going to have to pay for. She undid her seatbelt (a move I’d often scolded her for) and reached out for me. Swinging her over the seat, I clung to her as if her life depended on it. She kissed me loudly on the cheek and chirped. “It’s alright, Mama. It’ll be alright.”
Crazy Love Page 20