by Sasha Gold
Chapter Thirty-One
Maggie
I wake up the next morning, alone. The boys are up and Trig’s gone too. The embers in the fireplace lends a soft light to the room. Without Trig in the bed, I’m not sinking into the middle, but rest comfortably on top.
Last night, I’d enjoyed the most wonderful night of sleep. Trig held me close, not that he had much choice. Even if I’d been able to crawl out of the pit his weight created, I would have rolled back down. Sometime in the night, we’d both been awake and I asked him if I should go to my bed. He’d responded with a soft growl and tightened his embrace.
His scent lingers on the bedding. It’s strong and masculine and I might have to steal this pillow to sleep with every night. My body hums with desire as I think about the way his arms felt. It was clear he wanted me too. Any time I rubbed against him, I encountered his erection and my touch would elicit another rumble from him.
Smiling, I get out of bed and go upstairs. The house is quiet. They must have gone out, maybe to see the horses or jump in the creek for a morning swim. I shower and dress. School doesn’t start for a few days, so I have the whole day to do whatever I please. And whatever I please happens to be hanging out with Trig and the boys.
I never know where I stand with Trig. Was last night just a one-time thing? A whim? Did he kiss me and hold me just because the opportunity presented itself?
By the time Trig and the boys trudge back up to the house, I’ve worked myself into an almost frantic state, but the look in his eyes tells me that I worry for nothing. He climbs the porch steps two at a time and sweeps me into a brief but forceful kiss.
“Ew,” Thomas mutters.
Trig’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but the boys wear swim trunks and have towels wrapped around their shoulders.
They file into the house. I follow Trig into the kitchen and lean against the door frame while he rummages in the pantry.
“Did you sleep okay last night?” I ask.
Emerging from the pantry with an armful of flour and sugar and a few other canisters, he grins at me. “Great. You?”
“I did. I think I like camping.”
He sets everything on the counter, lights the gas flame under a cast iron skillet and begins measuring ingredients. The way he measures doesn’t involve cups or spoons. He does everything by sight, scooping rough amounts and tossing everything into a bowl.
“You want to go camping with me again?” His voice is lower, so if any boys are nearby, they won’t hear the question.
“That sounds all right to me.”
“Me too,” he says softly, just as Seth wanders into the kitchen.
The six of us eat at the breakfast table, an immense, antique table that sits in a sunny nook, surrounded by bay windows. Trig’s made mountains of food - bacon, pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs. The boys devour every last bit.
After breakfast, the boys want to play hide-and-seek in the barn. I haven’t stepped one foot into Trig’s barn and when they discover that, they insist I come play too. The rules are simple. You have to stay in the barn. Period.
We only have an hour, because Michael has to go to baseball practice.
The barn is big and musty. The first floor has about ten stalls, a feed room and a tack room. Upstairs is a hayloft. While Seth counts to twenty-five, I watch the other boys scramble up the ladder. It’s been a long time since I’ve played hide-and-seek, but I know enough not to follow the monkeys. They’ll giggle and give all of us away.
Trig’s disappeared. I wonder if he’s left us and returned to the house for a nap. As quietly as I can, I hurry into the tack room. Saddles line one wall, bridles hang from hooks on the other wall. Chaps hang on a hook beside the bridles. They must be Trig’s. I imagine Trig wearing jeans and boots and chaps - I’d like to see that.
I hear Seth finishing his count.
“Twenty-three…twenty-four…twenty-five. Ready or not here I come.”
The door behind me slams shut. A hand clamps over my mouth.
Trig speaks softly. “Don’t scream, or Seth will find us first.”
I nod and when he drops his hand, I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
The room is almost completely dark and I have to trust he knows where he’s taking me. Lifting me off my feet, he carries me to a table and sets me down.
“Hide-and-seek sure has changed since I last played,” I tell him.
He nudges my knees apart and pulls me towards him. His kiss is hot, nothing like last night. It’s urgent and forceful. He grips my hair in his fist and angles his head to deepen the kiss.
Somewhere above us, Seth’s voice breaks the barn’s silence. “I know you’re up here.”
I can hardly breathe and when his hands cup my breasts I arch to offer him more. He groans and strokes his thumb across my nipple. My breasts ache.
Upstairs, the boys shout and Seth whoops with glee. A moment later they come down the ladder and the sounds of them racing around the barn draw a curse from Trig.
“Usually Seth takes forever,” he mutters.
He tightens his embrace and we stay for a moment, holding each other until the inevitable bang on the door.
“Hey! No fair locking the door, Uncle Trig,” Seth bellows.
The rest of the boys join in and the pounding gets louder. Trig lifts me down, takes my hand and leads me to the door. He unlatches the hook.
“Shoot, who locked the door?” he asks.
Seth folds his arms across his chest. “The door was locked from the inside. It had to be you.”
Trig shakes his head and gives me an accusatory look. “Someone needs to explain the rules to Maggie. You can’t lock the door when you play hide-and-seek.”
We have time for a few more games of hide-and-seek. The barn darkens as the morning sky grows overcast. It’s a little creepy running around the barn in the dim lighting, but the boys love it. Trig doesn’t try to grab or kiss me again, but he’s having as much fun as the boys. Not once is he “it.” Apparently, he’s elusive.
By the time noon rolls around the skies have opened up and it’s pouring. Wes texts me to say they’re still meeting and to bring Michael to the clubhouse. Trig’s annoyed that Wes hasn’t simply cancelled the meeting. He’s not happy we’re leaving in a thunderstorm.
I’m putting on my jacket, standing by the front door. He wraps his hand around my arm.
“Let me take him, Maggie. I don’t want you driving in the storm.”
“You stay with the boys,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”
I smile and reach up to kiss him good-bye.
Chapter Thirty-two
Trig
After I drop the boys off at home, I head into town to pick up stuff for dinner. I plan to cook for Maggie and then take her to bed and not let her out for a month. Or more.
I don’t know what might have happened in her past, but the way she responded to me last night and this morning makes me determined to have her. She’s mine. Even if the judge says she can’t stay, I won’t be parted from her. Especially if the judge says she can’t stay.
When I get home, the dogs come to greet me, sniffing the grocery bags with interest. I have rib-eyes in there and they know.
“I’ll save you the scraps,” I tell them.
I’m surprised Maggie’s not home. She should have gotten back before me. I pull out my phone to see if she’s called. There’s nothing from her, but four missed calls from Wes.
“Fuck.”
I call him back. My heart hammers in my chest. He doesn’t answer and it goes to voice-mail. I phone Maggie and it doesn’t even ring, going directly to voice-mail. Pacing the den, I call Jane. No answer there either.
Stepping outside, I stare at the driveway, willing Maggie to appear, driving her van.
Where is she?
Then I recall the tracking app I put on her phone. I mutter a few words of thanks as I fumble with my phone. My hands are shaking but I manage to bring it up. The last reading was an hour ago,
and the signal came from a road near the Little League.
I’m numb, imagining the worst. That she had a wreck. That she’s hurt. Or dead.
My phone rings. It’s Wes and I answer right away.
Instead of Wes, Maggie speaks. I sink to a chair and let out a long sigh of relief.
Her voice shakes as she explains that she’s calling from Wes’s phone because she got caught in a low water crossing by the baseball fields.
“Are you okay?” My voice cracks.
She doesn’t answer for a long moment and when she speaks, her voice is soft. “Yes.”
Wes comes on the line. “We didn’t want to leave a message. Maggie’s okay. She pulled Michael out of the van and he might have a dislocated shoulder.”
I listen as Wes tells me about the over-flowing river that swept Maggie’s van away and she got Michael out but the van’s gone. While he speaks, I picture the dry creek bed near the park. When it rains, the creek rises fast. The worst part is that it’s around a bend in the road and it’s easy to drive around the corner and end up in the middle of a flooded road.
Wes tells me they’re five minutes away and he ends the call.
Nervously, I wait, standing on the driveway. She’s fine, I tell myself. My Maggie’s fine.
My brother drives up, parks the car and I practically tear off the passenger door. Maggie’s out and in my arms without a word. Water from her soaked clothing seeps into mine, but I don’t care. Mud streaks her neck and hands. I kiss her, just a gentle kiss because she’s crying.
Wrapping her arms around my neck, she clings to me as I turn to Wes. His brows lift but he doesn’t say anything about Maggie and me wrapped around each other.
“How’s Michael?”
“Jane called and said it’s sprained, not dislocated. He was too upset to talk to the ER docs, so they took an x-ray.”
Wes looks completely worn out. His face is pale, but he manages a smile. “Maggie saved him. He panicked. The van was stalled and the water rising. He couldn’t move.”
The image of the van surrounded by the rising river makes my mouth dry. I break out in a sweat.
“The van’s gone,” he says quietly. He closes his eyes, draws a deep breath and then opens them again.
When my parents and sister died, Wes could barely function. For months, he stayed in my parent’s house, curtains drawn. He drank, a lot. Their death hit me hard too, but instead of staying home, I threw myself into work. Hard work. Wearing myself out at the garage helped me cope. Now, with this new emergency, I want to tell him get it together, but I don’t, probably because I’m shaken up too.
“Go on, Wes,” I tell him as if I’m the older brother. “Go to the hospital to help Jane.”
Standing by his car, his eyes dart to Maggie. She’s holding onto me like she never wants to let go. It’s right where I want her, for now. This evening I’ll want her in the same position but, naked and in my bed. I stroke her back, down the length of her tangled, muddy hair.
“Maggie and I aren’t pretending anymore,” I tell him.
His eyes widen and then he clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. If he agrees he’ll wonder if he did the right thing by Maggie. If he fights me on this, he’ll wonder the same. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t.
“There isn’t anything I won’t do for her, but she’s mine now,” I tell him.
Maggie tightens her hold on me.
He nods. Silence stretches between us until he sighs, gets in the car and drives off.
Taking Maggie’s hand, I pull her into the house and take her to my bathroom.
“I was s-so scared. Not for me, but for Michael,” she whispers.
Her teeth chatter. I don’t want to talk about the accident or what almost happened. I just want to take care of her and make her feel safe. She protests a little when I start to undress her. Without arguing, I snap off the light and continue in the dark.
Could this frighten her? If she’d had bad experiences in her past, it might. I work slowly. Methodically. Not letting my gaze take in too much of her. When she’s down to her bra and panties, she lifts her eyes to mine.
“I can finish, Trig.”
I can’t help feeling disappointed but I step out of the bathroom to give her some privacy. Cracking open a beer, I listen to the shower and think how relieved I am that she’s okay. That she’s here with me. She’s pushing me away, but that’s okay. Last night and this morning we kissed and that’s progress. Huge progress.
The water turns off but I don’t go to her right away. I finish my beer and watch the sun set. When the first evening star twinkles, I wander back into the house. She’s not in her room, or the bathroom. I find her sleeping. On my bed. Wearing my bathrobe. Resting beneath the blankets, damp hair cast across the pillows, she looks sweet and so damn young. I force myself to leave the room. If I stay and watch her, I’ll be tempted to lie down beside her.
One thing’s for sure, I decide as I head back to the kitchen. From now on, my wife is sleeping where she belongs. By my side.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Maggie
I wake up in Trig’s candlelit bedroom with him beside me. He’s on his side, propped on his elbow. The candlelight flickers and silhouettes his body.
“Trig,” I say softly. “You’re here.”
“I’ve been here. Watching you sleep, staying close in case you needed me.”
“I do need you.” I roll over to face him.
My admission makes me feel vulnerable. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? But I have to say the words aloud. Today when water swirled around the van and Michael stared at me helplessly, I kept thinking we’d die and I’d never told Trig how I felt about him.
He snares my waist, drops down to kiss my neck. Hot kisses heat my skin and my body responds immediately. My breasts tighten. My skin tingles and my core grows slick. When he nips the curve of my neck, I can’t hold back the moan.
“I need you too, Maggie. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”
Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine and his hand slips inside my robe. Beneath the robe, I’m naked, and when his fingers trail up my back, I can’t help but moan softly. And in that moment, it’s as if the dam breaks and everything we’ve tried to hold back bursts through the crumbling wall.
I caress the strong, rippling muscles of his back as he tugs the robe from me. I lie naked beneath him. He kisses a trail past my collarbones and further down to my breasts. When he draws my nipple into his mouth a growl rumbles through his body. I close my eyes. The feeling of his mouth on my breast overwhelms me. I lay back and let him do what he wants while powerful shockwaves roll through my body.
“Should I stop?” he asks.
My mind reels. Why would he ask me if he should stop? I smack his shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”
He laughs and the vibrations roll through his chest and draw a smile to my lips.
“All right,” he drawls.
He moves down my body and instantly I question my bravado of a few moments ago. But I don’t have a chance to object. He nudges my thighs apart and presses his mouth between my legs. My thoughts dissolve. I’ve imagined this but the reality is far, far different than any fantasy.
“Trig…” I whisper.
“Shhh… baby, I’ve got you.”
And he does. Completely. He teases me with the tip of his tongue and it’s as if I lose control over my body. He tightens his hold on me, circling his powerful arm around my waist and pinning me to the bed while he makes me wild. The pleasure is both too much and not enough. He teases me, playing with me and drawing cries and whimpers from me. I spiral up and then he brings me back down.
“You taste like honey,” he says. “I always knew you would.”
“Please… Trig,” I’m begging.
He moves away to kiss my thigh and I want to weep. “Tell me what you want.”
When I don’t respond quickly enough, he nips me.
“Make
me come.” And to get him back for deliberately teasing me, I toss out something sassy. “Then fuck me.”
A rumble of laughter rolls through his body, but he doesn’t come back with a reply. Instead, he dips his head down and draws his tongue across my wet core. When he reaches my clit, he sucks it between his lips. If he weren’t holding me down, I’d probably jerk out of his grasp. One moment he sucks me, the next moment he strokes me with his tongue. I feel him press his finger inside me. It stretches me, fills me and sends me over the edge.
I arch beneath him, bowing my back off the bed. Sounds I’ve never made fill the quiet of his bedroom. He responds with a deep, animalistic growl. Coaxing every shred of pleasure from me, he lets me float gently back down to earth. Then he rears up over me, prowling along the length of my body and settling between my thighs.
“You’re tight,” he says. “A virgin.”
My mind turns lazily and I’m too dazed to respond.
“Oh, Maggie…” he whispers.
He presses into me. The head of his cock feels huge. He wraps his arm around my waist and takes short strokes, each one filling me impossibly. I grip his shoulders, waiting for the inevitable pain. When it comes, I cry out. He stops, braces himself on his elbows and kisses me, small kisses along my jaw. He kisses my mouth too, a sweet, slow kiss.
“It gets better,” he says. “Promise.”
“It already is.” I’m telling him the truth. The pain was sharp at first, but when he starts moving again, it ebbs.
His hand drifts along my ribs and he cups my breast. When he strokes his thumb over my nipple, pleasure warms my body. Having him inside me, and his touch on my breast changes my breathing. I gasp and moan beneath him.
The candlelight casts a glow over his face. His eyes burn intensely as he holds my gaze. It’s intimate and it steals my breath. Like he’s reaching inside me with that look, taking what he wants. My body, my soul. The sex is raw and primal. I’d expected that. But the way his eyes strip my protective layers away. I’d never imagined feeling so vulnerable. And safe.
I open to him, offering myself and wrap my legs around his hips.