by Mia Asher
“Her husband doesn’t deserve her.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” She pats my chest. “Be smart. Don’t take it any further.”
I shake my head, reach for her hand, covering it with mine. “I don’t think I can quit her.”
“Have you even tried?”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’re fucked then, handsome. Just remember, she and her husband are unfinished business.”
Jealousy makes me see fucking red. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means. It’s not over until it’s over.” She pats my jaw tenderly before walking away to join the rest of her guests.
Unsettled by Sophie’s warning, I go in search of Valentina. The need to be with her corrodes my bones. As soon as I spot her sitting on the grass with little Jack on her lap and the other kids around her, I’m calm once again. Fuck her husband. If he truly loved her, he would have been here the next day. If Valentina were mine, I would have moved heaven and earth to get to her. Because when you finally find something worth living for, you fight until there isn’t one more drop of blood left in you.
As I approach their spot, the anger and fear gradually slip from my pores. I don’t have the answers to her marriage, only she does, but we will figure it out. She remains unaware of my existence, so I hang back, reclining my shoulder on the trunk of a tree. I listen to her soft voice as my eyes devour her. The fabric clings to her slim curves as the wind blows past her, molding onto her like a second skin.
“Once upon a time there was a sad king of a vast land where midnight was eternal. Children grew up not knowing what the sun or a morning sky looked like. It was also said that when the king was angry, rain and howling winds would follow, shaking their homes with its angry power.”
“He sounds scary,” a little boy says and hugs himself.
“He wasn’t scary, Tobias. He was just lonely and very cranky. That’s why he scowled all the time.” Valentina shakes her head and smiles.
“He sounds like my father,” Jack says, giggling.
Valentina laughs, and the sound is like music to my fucking ears. “Anyway, the king was feared by all, tenants, servants, and neighboring rulers alike. He was known to be ruthless and unfeeling.”
“What did he look like?”
“Hmm.” She taps her chin seemingly thinking of her answer.
“A bear!” Jack orders.
“A horse?” another girl offers shyly.
“Yes! How clever you both are.” Valentina smiles encouragingly at the kids, and Jack grows about five inches with manly pride. She glances around her engrossed audience and lowers her voice. “It was said that he had the face of a bear and the body of a horse. His subjects dreaded to come into contact with him for they believed that he could turn them into stone. So the poor king lived in seclusion in his big castle at the top of the highest hill.”
“That is very sad,” my niece Isabella says. “Living all by himself.”
“Bet you daddy would like it,” Jack interjects, making Valentina chuckle. “He’s allergic to people, you know.”
“Oh, I know!” Isabella exclaims. “He needed a beautiful princess with a flower crown just like you to kiss him and turn him into a handsome king.”
Pushing myself away from the trunk, I stroll toward the circle of children and the minx at its center. “Now the story gets more interesting …”
Valentina’s eyes dance with laughter as she holds my gaze. “No. Sadly, it wasn’t in the cards for him.”
“More’s the pity.” I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. “What happens with this scowling monster?”
“He wasn’t a monster. Just misunderstood. Now, if you would be kind enough as to remain quiet so I can finish the story, I’d be forever grateful.”
I nod graciously as a smile tugs the corners of my lips. Valentina spreads her skirt carefully and hugs little Jack in her arms once more. Lucky boy. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. One day, a gypsy girl in a blue caravan stopped outside the castle.”
“Was she beautiful?” the same little blond girl from before asks.
“Of course she was. They always are,” an older girl interrupted.
“Does the king fall in love with the gypsy?”
“Ew, no!” the boys shout in dislike almost unanimously. Poor kids. If they only knew …
We lose the kids’ attention as they start to laugh and fight amongst themselves. Not that it matters. She stands up, brushing the grass and dirt off her skirt, and closes the space between us. An indecent smile on her wide mouth, that damn dimple that drives me to distraction peeking, she comes to me as though she’s a virgin ready to be sacrificed to the gods. Taunting me. Intoxicating me. A gust of wind blows past her as it sends her hair flying in all directions, making her dress dance in the air.
She’s now standing in front of me. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“I certainly hope so,” I drawl, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You know, Sophie’s right, you do touch me whenever you feel like it,” she teases.
“And yet it’s still not enough.”
Valentina lowers her face, blushing a little, but not before I see her smiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice heavy-looking clouds move across the sky, covering the sun. The smell of rain filters through my nose. Trees sway back and forth in the breeze. And then it comes. The rain. Soft. Gentle. Fresh on our skin.
She wipes a raindrop off of my forehead, concern written on her features. “We should go inside.”
I nod, trying to remain calm. Hoping that it stays just like this. No thunder. No memories. She reaches for my hand and entwines her fingers with mine, the gesture natural like her hand has always belonged there. We run until we reach a large tree. We are standing under its shelter when an image flashes right in front of my eyes. It’s of an older man watching his kids play outside in the rain. Secluded in the safety of his living room, he wishes he could join them, but he can’t. He’s too afraid. So he must be content to just sit back and see his life pass by.
I squeeze her hand. “I don’t want to run anymore.” Life is already too short to spend it watching it from the sidelines.
“Are you sure?”
As kids and adults run past us, trying to avoid getting wet, we remain in our spot. It’s time to face my demons straight on. What’s the worst that can happen? That they take me back to hell? It’s not like I haven’t been there before. I let my gaze fall on our hands, thinking, and I came back. I survived.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
I step out of the shelter of the tree, close my eyes, tilt my head back, and feel the rain as it cleanses me from the inside out. There are no grand gestures. No magic words to make the pain disappear. But today I fight back. Today, I choose life.
I open my eyes, focus on her gorgeous face, and grin. “If I remember correctly, you once told me you wanted to dance in the rain. Well, ma petite chouette. How about a dance?”
“What?” Her eyes widen in surprise, but she smiles nonetheless. “Now?”
“Yeah, why the fuck not?”
“You’re crazy,” she says laughingly, but she comes running toward me anyway. And in that moment, she is as lovely as she is free. “But so am I it seems.”
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. Desire, hunger, and yearning for her reverberate like an echo within me. “Ready, ma petite chouette?”
Her own arms go around my neck, beaming. “Never been more ready.”
We begin to move under the rain. Our clothes are soaked. But none of it matters. Victor Hugo once said La vie est une fleur dont l’amour est le miel. Life is a flower of which love is the honey.
The man was onto something.
Ever since Valentina came into my life, I knew I had no chance against her. I was fucked the second she walked into the gallery and life threw her my way. Now that I’ve had a taste of a life with her in it, the one I led be
fore wouldn’t be enough for me. I want her to dance for me naked under the stars. I want to make love to her as her hair falls on my face and her slim body takes me in over and over again. I want her to show me how to live life without fear—without restrictions.
Sophie once told me that love doesn’t divide. It multiplies. That Poppy would have wanted me to find love again, to move on, to live. But my heart remained shut. Silent. Frozen. Unmoved by the parade of women that came into my life, adorning my bed and keeping my body warm every night.
But then I met Valentina.
And the world was right again.
I will always love Poppy. Mourn for her and our unborn child. Nobody can replace her. Because it isn’t a competition. I don’t need to love one more than the other. But as I stare at Valentina, feel my arms around her, her heart drumming against mine, I finally understand what Sophie meant when she said love doesn’t divide.
It multiplies.
As I lay my eyes on Valentina, never breaking our gaze, I willingly jump down a precipice. Some people call it insanity. I call it love.
She’s mine, I tell myself.
But for how much longer, another voice answers.
WE’RE NOW STANDING outside my apartment. Lingering. Not ready for the night to be over. Not ready to say goodbye.
“Thank you for today, Sébastien. I had a great time.” I should invite him in, but something inside me forbids it.
“Don’t mention it.”
I point behind me, toward the door. “I need to … uh … it might be too late for a nightcap but—”
“It’s better this way.” He gives his head a gentle shake. “I’m going to be responsible and do the right thing and go.”
I stare at my feet, unable to look him in the eye because I’m afraid I’ll beg him to stay. “Please.”
Before I know what’s happening, he places a finger under my chin and makes me look at him. The small hairs on the back of my neck stand. “You know what I keep wishing for?”
I shake my head.
“For another life, in another universe, with you by my side. Now go inside and close the door.”
Without asking any questions, I do as he says. Inside the apartment, I shut the door behind me and recline my head against it as I take a deep breath. It’s better this way, I tell myself, but I might as well be talking to deaf ears for all the good it does. Every part of my soul screams to go after him, but I can’t.
A sigh escapes my lips as my sight lands on the mirror hung on the wall to my left. I stare at my reflection. Gone is the flawless woman whose husband didn’t want her, who hadn’t felt enough in a long time. Instead, I see someone with fire in her eyes. She smiles, and you can see traces of the woman she used to be. The one who wasn’t afraid to jump in puddles and cry in coffee-shops, and it’s because of Sébastien. He’s made me remember how it feels to be me.
What are you doing here? The voice inside my head asks. Go after him.
What am I going to say to him?
Does it matter? Go!
My heart begins to pump hard as the need to see him again comes over me. Throwing caution to the wind, I open the door, ready to rush out in search of him, but I stop frozen in place.
Sébastien is standing outside my apartment with a hand raised in the air, appearing like he was about to knock on the door. I pause to soak up the hard lines of his face, thirstily drinking them in.
“You’re still here,” I say feebly, feeling like a bomb of butterflies just went off inside me.
The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows. Feet spread apart. He lowers his hand, a faint, rueful smile plays on the corners of his mouth. “I’m still here.”
I stand there and forget about heartache and repercussions. Because I’m selfish. Flawed. Hurt. Tired, so tired, of living in the dark. I want to know, feel what it’s like to be bathed in his light, even if it’s for a short time. I want to pretend we’re just two people who have finally found each other in this vast world.
“Why?”
“Because you are.”
He steps forward, or I do. It doesn’t matter. Our bodies collide as he buries his hands in my hair, pulling me closer to him as though he’s trying to meld us into one. We get lost in a moment that takes us to a place where the past and future are irrelevant—they don’t exist. And it feels a little like falling. A lot like flying. Crashing on the ground. Dancing in the clouds. A cage and an open sky. The light of a thousand lamps illuminating the dark night.
He lowers his face and traces my jawline, my cheekbones—everywhere—with his lips, his hands, showering me with urgent, punishing kisses that leave a searing trail behind them. “Tell me to go,” he urges, his voice vibrating with intensity. “Tell me to leave you alone.”
“I can’t.” My entire body shakes with the enormity of what’s happening. Finally, finally, it cries. The feel of his lips on my skin drives me mad as want, yearning, need all morph into one. “I can’t lie to you.”
“You must. Don’t you see? Can’t you see how much I want you? How much I need you? I can’t fucking breathe when you’re around.” Sébastien’s hands tremble as his gaze falls to my lips then looks up, meeting my eyes again. He pauses, his hold turning intense, deep passion vibrating in his voice. “I have no right to touch you, to crave you as much as I do, but God help me, I can’t stop. I’ve tried to do the right thing, but I can’t anymore. You’re all I can think about. I feel like I’m going mad if I don’t see you, if I’m not touching you. Yet when you’re here with me, it’s never enough. Not fucking enough.”
Then he presses his mouth to mine. And it’s a savage exchange. A pent up beast finally let loose, kissing me as madly and wantonly as I feel. We go to war. No idea how we make it inside my apartment. He pushes me or I push him against the door. It doesn’t matter. I laugh, he laughs. We are all tongues and mouths and hands. He kisses me like he’s dying and my lips are his last breath. It’s a kiss that rearranges the stars in my own little galaxy, setting my life in a new course, changing my destiny. And if I crash and burn like a falling star, what does it matter when for this brief instant I’m in his arms? For the first time in a very long time, there isn’t ice inside of me. Instead, there’s a bright, hot, blazing fire.
I should ask him to stop, but I can’t bring myself to utter one word. Instead, I let his sweet breath inebriate me as his touch crumbles my defenses along with my reason. I begin to shake with warring shame and pleasure when his fingers slide the straps of my sundress off my shoulders, slowly exposing my skin to him. The back of his fingers caress the curve of my shoulder, tracing the goose bumps now covering my skin.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Valentina. What are you doing to me? I’m jealous of the sun because it touches your skin when I can’t. I’m jealous of every man that came before me,” he breathes between lovely, lovely kisses that take and demand and mark me as his. Sébastien grabs my ass, desperation making his movements forceful. He pulls me close, grinding his growing hardness against me. I moan as he imprints the hot outline of his cock between my legs, showing me how much he wants me. Urgency and desire take over, making every movement frenzied, more needy, more, more, and more.
Sébastien pushes my dress down, exposing my small breasts to his view. I know I should feel some sort of shame, but my head and pride are gone. “Darkness is around me until I see you. Then it’s colors. Bright, bright colors I can’t describe,” I say shakily as my body screams for him, wantonly begging for him to take me. A moan passes my lips when Sébastien buries his face in my breasts, sucking my pebbled nipples into his mouth, rolling the tips with his tongue, sending shooting stars through me. It all becomes too much, too intense, too beautiful.
His mouth is everywhere on me, etching himself deeper on my skin. Lowering his hand, he slides it under the material of my dress, running his fingers against the gusset of my wet lacy thong. He teases me. He torments me. Cursing, he slips the thin, wet fabric to the side and finds my clit swollen for him.
He rubs it nice and slow as he tears moans out of me, making every cell sing.
“Fuck … that sound is so damn addictive.”
I bury my hands in his hair and throw my head back, combusting from within as he plays me like a maestro, creating a harmonious symphony with my savaged body. I lick my dry lips, swallowing hard, trying to breathe, but my lungs are all out of air. And when I don’t think I can handle any more of his beautiful torture, he sinks two fingers deep inside me where I need him the most, where I burn for him the most. He begins to pump in and out of me mercilessly, driving me closer to a blinding, exploding climax. His kisses and touches turn more demanding, and I give him everything he asks for. But when he unzips his pants, and I feel the head of his cock against my entrance, everything is brought to a screeching halt.
“No … I can’t … stop …” I push him away yet hold onto the front of his shirt, afraid to let him go. “Not that.”
He curses and lifts his burning eyes to me, need and hunger shining in them. The room could be on fire, and I wouldn’t even notice. It wouldn’t matter. Frozen and breathless, my legs can barely hold me straight as Sébastien takes deep breaths wrenched from his chest.
Drowning in emotion and guilt, I hold onto his shoulders for support. “I want it all,” I say, breathing hard. “Everything with you. But I can’t do that to my husband. Not while I’m still married to him.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him.” He takes my hand in his and places it on top of his heart. “Feel this? Does it feel wrong to you?” He grabs my head, pulling me closer to him, and kisses me hard. Breathlessly. “And what about this? Because ma petite chouette, it hasn’t felt this fucking right to me in a very long time.”
I shake my head, unable to utter a coherent thought. My conscience is at odds with my heart. I reach for his wrist, kissing his hand. “I can’t. Please understand that.”
“Why, Valentina? He isn’t here with you. I am.”
“I know you are, you beautiful man.” But I can’t begin something with you when … “I’m married. It would make me no better than him. And you deserve better.”