“Yep. I’m not a fan of the Silence, though,” she said, referring to the creatures in the episode they’d just watched. “Those things get on my nerves.”
“I love the Silence.”
“Well. You’re a little strange, Eagle Scout. I think we’ve figured that out already.” Her half smile, having never really caught on, faded away. To her credit, though, she seemed determined to overcome her moodiness. “Why’d you turn it off, though? There’s another episode.”
He took a quick inventory of her features, noting the smudges like bruises under her eyes, the red tip of her nose and the way she kept her lips pressed together, as though a sob was lingering on the other side of her teeth, waiting for the right moment to erupt. Deciding to risk it, he cupped her face, smoothing the fine silk of her temple with his thumb. She melted, just a little, letting her eyes drift closed and leaning into his touch.
“You need some sleep,” he gently told her. “I should go.”
Her lids flicked open, giving him another flash of the biggest, most spectacular brown eyes he’d ever seen.
Sad eyes.
“I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” She hesitated. “And I don’t want to be alone.”
He froze, not certain where she was going with this and positive he didn’t have the strength to stick to the moral high ground if she offered herself to him again. Not when this simple touch between them was causing his pulse to thump and desire to coil into a tight knot low in his belly.
“Gloria,” he began.
“Please.”
That was it for him. He nodded, easing back against the cushions again, his nerves strung like piano wire. What was the protocol here? Did she want to watch more TV? Eat more pizza? Apparently she felt as edgy as he did, because she leaped to her feet and looked around as though she’d forgotten something.
“I’m a terrible host,” she said, looking toward the kitchen. “I didn’t offer you a drink. I’ve got a really nice Cabernet, in case you like red—”
“I’m fine.”
“—or some bourbon. You probably want bourbon, don’t you?”
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she got more agitated. Her body felt as tight as his, and he felt the flex and play of the muscles in her arm as he hung on to her.
“Sit down,” he urged. “Tell me.”
She cast one longing glance into the kitchen, as though she wanted to sprint in there and hide in the cabinets, but then she surprised him by plopping back down beside him.
She hesitated, and then, “You’re not judgy, are you?”
The answer came automatically.
“Me? Judgy? No way.” He paused, deciding he’d better come clean. “What’s judgy?”
Gloria scowled. “My sister is always judging me. It’s this look she gets on her face—this pained look, like she’s forcing herself not to tell me what an idiot I am. Everything is so black-and-white to her, and if I’m confused or—”
“I won’t judge you, Doc,” he said.
“Don’t call me Doc.”
“Sure thing, Doc.”
She grinned. Her shoulders lost some of their rigidity as she leaned back beside him, tucking one foot under herself as she faced him.
“Tell me,” he urged. “I won’t think less of you.”
She grimaced, giving him a hard stare. “Save it until you’ve heard how stupid I am.”
This seemed to be a running theme with her, and he’d had enough of it. “You’re not stupid, Gloria. Stop saying that.”
“I’ve been having an affair with a married man.” She hesitated. “One of the other docs at the hospital. He was separated from his wife when we hooked up, and I wasn’t smart enough to cut him loose when they got back together. Or smart enough to know he was bullshitting me every time he said he planned to leave her again.”
Cooper felt sick. He’d suspected as much, but the news still hit him like a swift jab to the Adam’s apple, and he wasn’t sure he could hide it. Not because of any particular moral outrage but because this was confirmation that she had a serious and long-standing emotional attachment to some punk who clearly didn’t deserve her.
Nodding encouragingly, he tried to stifle his overwhelming urge to smash something. “Go on.”
“I’m thirty-eight, Cooper.”
Another nod.
“Which means,” she said, her voice rising, “that not only am I way past old enough to know better, but I’ve wasted two good childbearing years—and I only have a few left!—waiting for that man to leave his wife for me!” Her lips twisted around a bitter laugh. “And guess what—it was all worth it! This whole time I’ve been waiting and waiting, and he’s been promising and promising me, and my sister has been warning and judging me, over and over again like some endless loop from Groundhog Day, and today, finally, he told his wife he wanted a divorce!”
Shit, Cooper thought violently, his stomach lurching.
“Only guess what,” she continued, voice cracking. “Karma’s a bitch, Cooper, because he’s leaving his wife, yeah, but he didn’t leave her to be with me! He left her so he could ‘find himself’!” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “And you know what that means, don’t you? Say it with me—he can’t commit to me, because he wants to be free to see other people! So it looks like I got what I deserved, doesn’t it? And you know what that is. Say it with me—nothing! I get nothing. And that’s exactly what I deserve.”
With a final despairing look, she dropped her head and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sweater. Which was great because it gave him time to school his features and think of something comforting to say. Plus he had plenty of questions about the whys and hows and whether she ever planned to see the cheating SOB again. But in all of this information, there was only one thing he had to know.
“You love him?” he asked dully.
She stilled. After a beat or two, she raised her head and stared off in the distance with unfocused eyes and a thoughtful frown. Words seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t—couldn’t?—say them.
“It’s an easy question,” he prompted.
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not.”
“Enlighten me.”
Another pause. “Tonight, when I spoke to him before the gala, and he told me about his plans? I wanted to kill him.”
That made two of them, Cooper thought angrily.
“And that’s still what I feel. Rage. Because of all the time, emotions, hopes and dreams I wasted on that fool. And for what? He never met me halfway. He’s never bothered to come here. He’s never wanted to meet my sister. And why did I expect him to? I mean...seriously. What was I thinking? It’s not like I knew he was a winning candidate from the get-go! And what did I even want from him? A real home? I have a real home! I bought it for myself.” She gestured at her beautiful apartment. “Children? His children are almost grown now, and he told me a million times he didn’t want any more. A loving and faithful partner?” She snorted. “He damn sure wasn’t the one for that, was he, Cooper?”
He didn’t answer.
“But the thing I’m most pissed off about is how I’ve felt about myself this whole time.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrank inside her skin, head dipping so she didn’t have to meet his eyes. Even her voice, when she spoke again, was smaller.
“I’m so ashamed of myself. I didn’t think I was this woman. I’ve seen his wife at holiday parties and stuff. She looked like a nice person! I didn’t think I could—”
She broke off on a stifled sob, shaking her head.
He sat in silence, giving her a minute.
“How did I land myself in this mess?” she finally asked, sounding stronger. “Why did I do it? To win? Because I couldn’t stand t
he idea that another woman had something I didn’t have?”
“Because you loved him?” Cooper asked, bringing it up again because she still hadn’t given him a satisfactory answer and he needed to know, one way or the other. It felt as if his entire soul was tied up, being held hostage to her response.
“Why would I love someone like that?” There was an open curiosity in her eyes now, as though she sincerely hoped that Cooper—or someone—could explain the situation to her. “He’s a liar and a cheater. He’s selfish. And this whole two years, I haven’t had a moment’s peace. Between wondering when he’d call or show up, wondering why he hadn’t, wondering when he’d ask his wife for a divorce, wondering if he’d had other affairs or if he was being a little too friendly with some of the nurses...it’s just...I’m exhausted. I don’t have anything left for this. I’m done with him.”
Even though Cooper knew better than to bank on anything a person said in the heat of a breakup, especially after a long-term relationship, even if it’d been a dysfunctional one, his breathing began to ease up and his mood began to lighten. His heart, which had been thudding this whole time, began an excited tap dance. Still, he tried to rein himself in.
“Done?” he echoed dubiously. “It takes a while to unravel a relationship.”
“I know.” Her expression was direct. Honest. And, as far as he could tell, rage-free. “But when I think of all the damage this affair has done—” She broke off, shrugging helplessly. “Talia always says I’m my own worst enemy, and she’s right. Why am I so self-destructive? Why would I put this much effort into something so toxic? Why didn’t I just develop a drug habit and be done with it?”
There was an alarming image. “Don’t say that.”
“The only good thing about this whole mess is that his wife never knew. And I’ll never tell her.”
“Good,” he said after a pause. “What else?”
She scrunched up her face, thinking hard before shooting him a wry smile. “I didn’t mean to throw this all at you, Eagle Scout. You probably didn’t think you’d be playing Dr. Phil when you offered to bring me home, did you? And you didn’t even get laid for your trouble.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “You don’t ever need to apologize to me.”
“You’re a good listener.”
That made him laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“No one’s ever accused me of that before. I was just thinking of the last several dozen women I’ve dated. They all complained about me checking my email or watching TV when they were trying to talk.”
“You?”
“Me.”
They grinned at each other and he felt that pleasant kick of adrenaline again—the thrilling burn of anticipation and excitement.
Maybe she felt it, too, because she suddenly looked away and became all business. “Well. Thanks for listening.”
He watched her, worried she was about to kick him out. “Anytime, Doc.”
Her expression clouded again, becoming raw. Vulnerable.
“I was right, though, wasn’t I? Stoo-pid. That’s me. Admit it.”
“No,” he said sharply, frowning. “I think you went into something that turned out to be a mistake. And now you’re reevaluating. Seems pretty smart to me.”
A tiny smile.
“And if it makes you feel any better,” he added, “you’re not the only one who’s ever hooked up with a married person. Trust me.”
Her eyes widened. “Have you—?”
“Yeah. Nothing long-term, and I’m not proud of it, but—yeah. In my stupid younger days, I figured that if a man couldn’t keep his wife satisfied, then she was fair game.”
“So you’re smarter now?”
“I hope so. Mama always quotes Maya Angelou at me. ‘When you know better, you do better.’” He shrugged. “I figure you and I both know better now.”
“I hope so. And that’s enough about me for the night. I want to know how you and Marcus became brothers.”
That made him laugh. “How we became brothers? Translation—what’re you doing in a black family, white boy?”
“Well...yeah,” she said, grinning.
He opened his mouth to tell her, and as always, the suffocating loss pressed in on him. It seemed more acute tonight, probably because it was late and he’d been drinking. Gloria’s sharp eyes widened with concern, picking up on his emotion immediately.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “That was way too nosy, wasn’t it?”
“Nope,” he said, pressing his lips together before his chin began that embarrassing quivery thing it liked to do whenever he got upset. “You can ask me anything.” He paused, breathing deep. “My birth dad died in a car accident before I was born. When I was ten, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. They gave her six months. There was no other family to take care of me, so she reached out to her best friend from college—Marlene Davies.”
“Marcus’s mom?”
“Yeah. I call her Mama. She came down to Atlanta to take care of Mom at the end. And me. Then she brought me up north, and suddenly I had a Pops and a knucklehead brother my age. They eventually adopted me, and the rest is history.”
Gloria beamed at him, looking teary again but in a good way. “That’s a great story. I needed a great story tonight. I’m glad you told me.”
He stared at her, his hands itching to touch her face...to smooth her sleek cheeks...to stroke her full lips. “So am I.”
The moment intensified between them, swelling until it felt as though there was nothing else in the apartment but this woman and his desire for her. And because he was so focused on her, he noticed the rosy flush that crept up from her neck and across her cheeks, the way her brown eyes brightened until they looked feverish, and the way her lids began to drift closed.
His body, acting on its own, began to lean in, reaching for her even though he’d sworn he wouldn’t. “Gloria...”
The huskiness in his voice seemed to jar her back to her senses, which was good because he didn’t seem to have any senses left.
Her breath hitched and she blinked, unfolding from the sofa and easing to her feet in one smooth move that would have fooled him if she hadn’t been so pointed about keeping her gaze lowered so he couldn’t see her expression.
He’d known it before, but now he felt it in a penetrating wave of heat that reached the marrow of his bones: Gloria wanted him physically, which was great—spectacular, really—but there was something more between them, and he wasn’t alone in feeling that way.
“It’s crazy late.” Still not looking at him, she wrapped the edges of her sweater tighter around her middle and crossed her arms over her chest. But if they were defensive moves designed to defuse this moment between them, they failed miserably. All he could think about was the amazing body underneath her sweater. “I should let you get some sleep. I mean—you’re staying, right? On the sofa, I mean? But not if you don’t—”
“I’m staying.”
“You are?” She met his gaze again, brightening as she pointed to a door off the hallway. “That’s the powder room, and I’ve got extra toothbrushes and toothpaste under the sink, so help yourself.”
“Great.”
“And I’ll bring you an extra blanket and pillow.”
“Don’t go to any trouble—”
But she was already gone, hurrying out of sight.
By the time he got back from brushing his teeth, she’d deposited a blanket and pillow on the end portion of the sectional and disappeared again. She’d probably gone to bed already, he thought, deflating a little. She was probably slipping into her big bed down the hall, her long limbs sliding against the cool sheets. Maybe she even peeled herself out of those little undies she’d been wearing and slept in the nude, those dark nipples pebbling and sensitive a
gainst Egyptian-cotton sheets—or maybe even satin sheets.
A man could dream, right?
And maybe tonight she’d even touch herself and think of him, he thought as he shrugged out of his dress shirt and swept his white undershirt over his head. Maybe she’d spread her thighs and rub her fingers... Hang on. Was she bare down there or not? He hoped she had a full bush, and since it was his fantasy, he was going to roll with that.
He unzipped the tightening crotch of his pants and kicked them off, toeing his way out of his socks as he did so. Maybe she’d also squeeze her nipples and arch her back, moaning. And what would she moan? Why, his name, of course. She’d cup and squeeze her breasts, pushing them together, and if he were there with her, he’d dip his head down and lick them before sucking an engorged nipple deep into his mouth. Maybe he’d scrape her gently with his teeth and see how she liked that.
She’d like it a lot, he was guessing.
Taking the blanket, he flapped it open to cover the sofa. Then he fluffed up his pillow and threw it back down, his surging testosterone making him rougher than he needed to be.
And then he’d run his tongue down her torso, he decided, the images flickering through his mind in high def, making sure to dip it into her belly button on his way south. Then, when he’d slid low enough, he’d nudge her hand aside and claim that sweet spot between her legs for his own. He’d wedge his shoulders between her thighs, opening her wider so he could see what he was doing, and then he’d lower his head to taste—
“Here’s another pillow in case you— Oh.”
Gloria had arrived on her silent cat feet, startling him.
Her powers of speech sputtered and died when she saw what his right hand was doing:
Stroking over a rock-hard erection.
Embarrassment sent his face up in flames. With a muttered curse, he snatched up the pillow he’d just fluffed and used it to cover himself from her drop-jawed and wide-eyed gaze. The woman really needed to be outfitted with a bell so she’d quit scaring people to death, he thought sourly, waiting for her to say something, because he sure as hell didn’t have anything on tap.
Sinful Paradise (Kimani Hotties) Page 4