The Thief of Hearts

by Ripley Proserpina

  “I’m sorry.” Shira tried to turn, but he squeezed her. A warning to stay still. When had he gotten beneath the covers with her? His legs were bare, and though she couldn’t see to confirm it, she had a suspicion his chest was too. What had prompted this sweetness?

  “Stay where you are,” he commanded, and then sighed. “It’s easier to apologize without you looking at me.”

  His words froze her. Carefully, she tucked her hand beneath her cheek. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Last night, I was cruel. I knew you met my grandmother. No one who meets her doesn’t immediately fall in love with her. She’s just like that. Always has been. My grandfather met her at a USO dance and proposed to her that evening.”

  “Did she say yes?”

  Pascal chuckled, and the sound vibrated against her back. She couldn’t help wiggling a little when a shiver ran down her spine.

  “She did. Said she knew he was the one for her.” He was silent for a long moment before he continued. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have sprung what was happening on you the way I did. Not last night.”

  “Why are you being so nice?” she asked and then wished she hadn’t. Inevitably, it would ruin the ground they’d seemed to gain.

  But he answered. “I made assumptions about you. Thought you did something you didn’t do. Thought you a certain kind of person. And you’re not. You’re good. Kind. Tried to do the right thing.”

  “Even though I do stupid things?” She remembered how he’d taken her to task for not reporting her mugging to the police. She really wished he would let her turn around and see his face while he was saying all these nice things about her.

  “Even though you made a bad decision,” he allowed, “you’re not stupid. I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” His arm released her, as if he was giving her permission, and she flipped around.

  Pascal in the morning, without the shield of anger, was beautiful. His jaw was darkened by a shadow of beard. The barest gleam of sun tried to peek through the curtains, highlighting the gold in his hair.

  And she had been right.

  His chest was bare. She was eye-level with his throat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Hesitantly, she touched his neck, and he allowed it.

  Encouraged, she dragged her fingers lower, along his shoulders and collar bone before resting it on the center of his chest. Near her thumb, she could feel his heart thumping. A steady rhythm that was as soothing as his presence had been to lull her to sleep.

  A raised scar near her pinky made her frown, and she narrowed her eyes, adjusting her body to look closer. When she realized what she’d done, she paused, expecting him to stop her examination, but he didn’t. The scar was round, but torn along the edges, like a sunburst. Near it, barely visible in the waning light, were a myriad of other scars. There was no discernible pattern, none were similar in size or shape. Some were tear drops while others were longer, the size of her thumbnail.

  She flicked her gaze toward him. He stared at her intently, and she realized, his breathing had become shallow and rapid.

  What was it Ravi said he did? Dov was a doctor. Pascal?

  A soldier.

  Now his scars made sense. And they broke her heart.

  “I’m very glad you survived these,” she said, touching each one she could reach with her fingertips.

  “Thank you,” he said. He cleared his throat, glancing toward the door, but then returned her gaze.

  Shira didn’t know what came over her, but she shifted, tipped her head forward and kissed the sun-shaped scar. The skin was smooth, smoother even than the skin surrounding it. She moved to the next scar, but it had no detectable difference between the smaller scars and the broad expanse of his skin. Still, she found herself wanting to cover each and every one with her lips.

  Without realizing it, she’d squirmed lower on the bed. Pascal’s hand, strong fingered and warm, held the back of her head. He kept her in place, encouraging her descent along his body.

  His chest was covered with a light smattering of the same golden hair as on his head. Curling her fingers, she raked her hand down his chest, and was rewarded with a deep-throated groan.

  His nipple was right in front of her mouth. Breathless, she touched its pebbled peak with her tongue before wrapping her lips around it and biting gently.

  Pascal groaned again, louder, and her hips jerked forward. Somehow, in all her squirming and wiggling, he’d managed to get a knee between her legs. The rocking motion she made brought his hard length right where she needed it.

  It was her turn to moan.

  Shira could feel him, lips grazing her head, hands leaving her hair to drag along her back.

  “Shira.” Pascal pushed her away, cupped her chin and dragged her face to his. “Tell me if you don’t want this. Tell me now because if you don’t, I won’t stop.”

  She wanted it. She wanted it so bad.

  He went on. “I know what’s happened with Ravi. I can see it written all over his face when he looks at you. And Dov, that night we found you in the street. You could have all of us tied in knots, Shira. But. I. Don’t. Care. So tell me now. You willing to do this? See where this mess takes us?”

  Through the haze of her arousal, she tried to consider his words.

  Ravi. Last night she’d been on a date with Ravi. What would it do to him if she slept with Pascal?

  Because that’s what she was considering at this moment.

  As if he could feel her confusion, Pascal rubbed his knee between her legs again. What had he been saying? He held her gaze, but dropped his hand from her face. Slowly, he trailed it along her arm, past her fingers, and dipped it beneath the waist band of her shorts.

  His fingers slid through her soft folds and into her.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.

  He withdrew his finger before plunging it in again. He added a second finger, and it was very possible her eyes crossed.

  “This is going to happen,” he whispered along her jaw. His stubble scraped her skin, but she loved it. Combined with the smooth thrust of his fingers, she nearly came right then. “It’ll happen now, or it’ll happen later, but Shira?” His fingers stopped and she opened her eyes. He stared at her, eyes bright like they were lit by a fire. “It will happen.”

  His fingers, wet with her arousal, cupped her face and he kissed her. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, taking what he wanted.

  And he wanted her.

  Inside her, the girl she always thought she was, had another epiphany. Nothing she planned in her life was the way it should be.

  She should be a success at her job.

  She wasn’t.

  She should be taking her time to get to know these men. Ravi. Pascal. Dov.

  God, even Yaphet.

  But her heart told her she already knew them.

  Pascal was braver than her. He was gruff, and direct, and at times cruelly honest, but what he said was the truth.

  This was going to happen now. Or it was going to happen later.

  But it was going to happen.

  “Now,” she whispered when his kisses moved to her cheekbones. “I want it now.”

  “Good girl.” His praise lit something up inside her, and she pushed him onto his back to straddle him.

  With a move she’d never imagined herself capable of, she tugged the shirt over her body and tossed it into a corner of the room.

  Pascal leaned back into the pillows, smiling up at her. He lifted his hands to her breasts, covering them with his big hands, and massaged her. “Take off my shorts,” he told her.

  How was she supposed to do that when he was touching her so perfectly? He applied just the right amount of pressure, pinching her nipples between his fingers with each squeeze.

  Lifting herself onto her knees, she held onto the waistband, stretching it as she raised her body. Pascal took over from there, shimmying out of his shorts. “These come off, too,” he told her, and with one swif
t tug, yanked the borrowed shorts below her ass.

  Shira leaned to one side, extracting one foot and then the other before she lowered herself onto his hips again. His cock was nestled between them, and she cupped it with her hand. His skin was just as hot here, and the tip red.

  As she watched, a bead of precum leaked from his slit, rolling along his length.

  “Fuck, Shira,” he said, fingers digging into her hips. “What you do to me.” He rocked her, pushing her body away and then toward him.

  It felt right.

  But she needed more.

  Lifting again, she held him in place so she could sink onto him. She was wet, but he was big, and it had been a long—a very long—time for her.

  “Relax,” he whispered. She tried, really she did, but he had her in knots. She wanted him inside her, wanted to ease the ache that was growing out of control.

  Pascal held her gaze, and placed his thumb in his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked. Withdrawing it slowly, he lowered his hand between their bodies, and circled her clit.

  “Oh.” All at once, her muscles relaxed. He thrust upward as she lowered onto him even further.

  They stayed that way for a heartbeat—gazes locked—as close as two people could be.

  Pascal took her hands, one at a time, and placed them on his chest. “Are you going to move, beautiful? Or are you going to torture me?” he asked, and then he smiled.

  His smile was breathtaking. Shira leaned over to his kiss him. He took control of the kiss and rocked her. “I’m begging…”

  Shira rolled her hips forward. It was all the encouragement Pascal needed. Breathless, their movements were a perfect counter to the other. Everything was a blur of sensation. His mouth at her breast. His hands in her hair. His cock buried inside her.

  The ache spread, encompassing every part of her. When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, that she’d lose her mind if the pressure wasn’t somehow released, Pascal dipped his hand between them again and pinched her clit.

  With a cry, she came, hips jerking, muscles spasming. Heat flooded her as Pascal came inside her.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

  No condom.

  But God, it felt so good. She’d never let feeling overtake safety, and now she had. And she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

  Boneless, she collapsed onto Pascal’s chest. He smoothed his hand down her back, and then to her hair, flicking it over her shoulder. “I’m not sorry,” he said. His voice was fierce. What was he talking about? “Not for any of it. We came here to do what we needed to do, and we met you. It’s all going to work out.”

  A bubble of unease grew in Shira’s chest. Why did it sound like Pascal trying to convince himself of that sentiment?

  Despite somewhat diminishing the glow Shira had felt, she kissed Pascal’s neck. “It will.” It had to.

  Someone knocked on the door, rousing Shira from the nest she’d made around herself and Pascal. “They’re back.”

  “Yaphet,” Pascal told her, and with a kiss on the top of her head, stood up, completely uncaring about his nakedness.

  But Shira was hypnotized. His muscles flexed as he bent to pull up his shorts and his abs contracted as he yanked a shirt over his head. Wishing she was as unselfconscious, Shira stayed beneath the covers when she hiked her shorts over her hips.

  “Here.” Pascal tossed her a t-shirt. Once it was on, she stood, staring at him awkwardly. Yaphet had said they were back. That must mean Ravi and Dov. What would it mean when she went out there and met Ravi’s eyes? Surely he would know as soon as he looked at her what she’d done.

  “It will be okay,” Pascal said. “I can feel your worry. It’s going to be fine.”

  He sounded so confident, Shira couldn’t help but smile.

  In their semi-dressed state, they left the room.

  Pascal had been overly positive in his definition of “fine.” From the moment Shira’s gaze clashed with Ravi’s, she could see, he was not fine. He looked from her to Pascal, eyes narrowing. “Why?” he asked.

  “Ravi.” Pascal held up both hands. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Fine?” Ravi yelled. She’d never heard him yell. Shira had seen Ravi sad, and quiet, and sweet, but never angry. His dark skin suffused with a deep red. Balling his hands into fists, he shook his head. He glanced away from Pascal and met her gaze. “How could you do this?”

  What had she done?

  “Stop it, Ravi. Just because I’ve been with Shira doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you.”

  “It’s exactly what it means!” he yelled. He raked his hands through his hair. “After everything, Pascal. Everything I told you. Everything we did. I—” Ravi spun. He stormed from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  Horrified, Shira stared after him.

  Pascal took her hand. “I’ll explain. Don’t freak out.” His voice had taken on that commanding quality again. Shira found herself at a loss, and with no other options, nodded her head. With a gentle kiss, Pascal shoved his feet into boots. He picked up a coat from the back of the couch and shrugged it on. “I’ll be right back,” he said and left.

  In shorts.

  In the dead of winter.

  “Pascal and Ravi will work it out,” Yaphet said. “Though you certainly complicated everything.” His tone wasn’t judgmental, but it was exhausted. “I am impressed with Pascal’s turn-around. One minute suspicious, the next…”

  Shira shut her eyes, collapsing onto the couch. Oh, she'd messed things up but good. So much for her epiphany.

  “I should go after Ravi,” she said.

  “Actually,” Dov said, “my grandmother wants to see you. She’s not doing well, and asked if you’d visit.”

  “Yes.” Shira lunged to her feet. “My clothes…” Dov handed her a canvas tote she recognized as coming from her apartment. “Yaphet got you some clothes.”

  Her building had a locked entrance.

  “How…Never mind. Give me two minutes.” Shira took the bag into the bathroom. Dressing quickly in the clothes Yaphet had gotten her, she tried to avoid thinking about what she’d done. But it was like telling someone, don’t think about green dogs. They automatically thought about green dogs. There was nothing for it.

  After scrubbing her teeth with her finger and the toothpaste she found in the cabinet, Shira was ready.

  Dov and Yaphet already wore their coats and stood by the doors. They’d been talking quietly, but when she left the bathroom, they stopped. “Ready?” Yaphet asked.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “I want to warn you,” Dov began as they walked out. He paused to lock the door before speaking again. “My grandmother took a turn for the worse late last night.”

  “She was so energetic,” Shira said. How could someone go from cooking a meal for Hanukkah to whatever she was about to see?

  “It’s common. Often, in the days before someone dies, they rebound. Everyone around them thinks they’ve made a miraculous recovery. But they haven’t. It was merely a respite before things deteriorate.” Dov gestured toward a small car parked across the street.

  She had a hard time imagining the tall and broad-shouldered brothers in such a car, but they folded themselves inside gracefully.

  Sliding into the back, Shira struggled to find the words to encapsulate the questions she had. “I didn’t know she was sick.” She finally settled upon.

  “She has cancer,” Yaphet said.

  Dov pulled into traffic, but Shira saw the way his hands tightened on the wheel. “She decided not to undergo treatment. She’d been through it twice before, and the chemotherapy and radiation took a toll on her. More than a toll. They sapped away the parts of herself that made her who she was. So when the cancer came back, she decided to end her days the way she wanted. Surrounded by her family. In her own home.”

  “Palliative care,” Shira said aloud. “Did you come back here to take care of her?” she asked Dov.

  From the front seat, he
nodded. “I came when she was diagnosed the first time. The move wasn’t wholly unselfish though. I’d wanted to live here, and thought this was the time to do it. My father and mother come when they can. In fact, they’re on their way now.”

  Shell-shocked, Shira stared out the window. It was evening. She’d slept the day away and then thrown herself at Pascal while Ravi, Dov, and Yaphet faced the end of their grandmother’s life.

  What kind of person was she?

  In spite of the evening traffic, they made it to their grandmother’s building in good time. Like the universe had known what little things could make this bearable, a parking spot was available right across the street. Dov pulled into it, and shut off the car.

  The three of them sat there in silence, staring up at the lights gleaming from the third floor of the building.

  “Ready?” Dov asked.

  Was he asking her? He shifted in his seat, glancing over his shoulder at her.

  “Yes,” she answered, and her voice cracked. Swallowing at the thickness in her throat, she tried again. “Yes.”

  The trip to the apartment was silent. Each of them lost in their own thoughts. As the elevator doors opened, Yaphet touched her arm gently. “Try to understand,” he said. “Our grandmother is a special person to us. She’s…”

  Shira smiled, remembering Pascal’s story about his grandfather and answered for him. “She’s the kind of woman a man lays eyes on, and immediately knows she’s meant to be his wife.”

  Yaphet pulled his glasses off his face. Without them shielding his gaze, Shira could make out how deeply he felt about his family. What was it that Ravi had said about his grandmother? “She’s everything.”

  “I understand,” Shira assured him. The door to the apartment opened before they could knock. An unfamiliar woman wearing Mickey Mouse scrubs and a kerchief around her bright red hair welcomed them inside. “She’s been asking about you.”

  “Pain level?” Dov asked, unbuttoning his coat and hooking it on the back of a chair.

  “She says it’s a six, but she hit the morphine button a lot this morning. I think she’s been waiting for you to come back before she hits it again. Is this Shira?” The woman’s kind blue eyes landed on her. “Sarah’s spoken about you a lot. I’m sorry I missed you last night, but Sarah demanded I spend Hanukkah with my family. I’m Ruth.”