A Love So Strong

by Kathryn Shay

  In the six o'clock sunlight, he looked absolutely gorgeous. The hair on his chest was a few shades darker than the sandy strands on his head, and he was more muscular than he was months ago. "Here you go." His tone had lost its edge since she'd rescued his godson from harm.

  "Thanks." She took the beer and sipped. The cool liquid went down smoothly.

  He climbed in the tub, making the water swish around her neck. Sighing, he closed his eyes. "I can't fathom what it would have been like for Jase if something happened to Tommy. Since Mary died, the kid has been his world." Jase's wife had been killed in an accident right after Tommy was born.

  He opened his eyes and smiled sadly. "We should have had a baby."

  “I was thinking about that earlier."

  “You wanted to wait."

  "I wish we hadn't. I wish we had that to bind us together."

  He stared hard at her. "I never understood…I couldn't believe you'd cheat on me. I know we had problems in our relationship—we were both so hardheaded and inflexible about things— but that didn't warrant turning to another man."

  "Of course it didn't. The cheating was totally my fault."

  His tone was soft, resigned, when he said, "Why'd you do it, Jill?"

  It was time to bite the bullet. "I was always afraid of you, Riley."

  "Afraid? Why?"

  "You were so well liked, so sure of who and what you were."

  "So were you."

  "No, I wasn't. I wanted you and everybody else to think I was, but I wasn't. I'm not using this as an excuse, but my parents' approval and love were always so hinged on what I did, how good I was at things, that I never felt worthy of love unless I earned it."

  "Did you feel you had to earn it with me?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "I never knew that."

  "It's why I felt so competitive with you, that you couldn't best me in anything or somehow, I wouldn't have your approval."

  "Jill, that's crazy thinking."

  "It wasn't conscious. I didn't admit it at the time."

  "When did you realize all this?"

  She took a swig of beer for fortification. "Mick helped me see it."

  "My grandfather?"

  "Yes. Mick and I corresponded while I was gone."

  "No, that's impossible. He would have told me.

  "I asked him not to."

  She could see anger color his face. "He shouldn't have kept that from me."

  "He really helped me to see how I was behaving with you, and why. He'd been around for our whole relationship and I'd talked to him about my dad. So he knew my background."

  Riley let out a breath. "You should have talked to me. You should have let me in."

  "I wasn't good at letting people in."

  "I was your husband, damn it."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  He sighed heavily. "It doesn't matter anymore. What you did can't be taken back. Goddamn it Jill, you slept with another man because I got a promotion and you didn't. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

  Her teeth came out over her bottom lip. A gesture of vulnerability. "As I said, I was afraid if I didn't measure up, if I wasn't perfect, you'd stop loving me, too. Or withhold your love, like they did."

  "You sold me short. The only thing that could have made me stop loving you was your turning to another guy."

  Mick had written something to her in a letter.

  It's amazing how we manage to bring about exactly what we fear in life by trying so hard to prevent it. It's like when you’re driving a car and you tell yourself not to steer across the white line; but if you concentrate too hard on the white line, the next thing you know you cross it.

  "I've learned from my mistakes, Rye. I'd be a different kind of wife now."

  "You mean you wouldn't cheat again if we got back together?"

  "Of course I mean that. But I also mean that I wouldn't keep myself closed off. I'd share more with you. And I hope I wouldn’t feel or react on my insecurities."

  He gulped his beer, then looked her in the eye.

  "I'm sorry, Jill. It sounds like you're sincere, and that you may have changed, but I can't take the risk."

  Tears clogged her throat. "Won't you even consider giving us another try?"

  "No. It's too much to ask. You don't understand how devastated I was when you went to Rafe. I thought I'd never stop hurting. Now that I have, I can't give you another shot at me. I wouldn't survive if you cheated again, or if this change in you wasn't permanent."

  He stood and climbed out of the tub. "Don't stay in here too long, after your injury today." And he walked into the house.

  With him went the one last hope Jill had. She waited until she heard the door close before she let the tears come.

  oOo

  "I hope she's gone."

  Liar. Liar. Liar.

  "Shut up," Riley told the inner voice that contradicted him as he pulled into his driveway at two a.m. He'd gone out before Jill came inside from the hot tub; he'd scribbled her a note telling her he wanted her to leave tonight and spare them both a wrenching goodbye scene. She could call Molly, retrieve her car, and be gone from his life.

  He entered through the kitchen. Slowly, he made his way upstairs, feeling so overwhelmingly sad he could barely contain it. See, you were right to send her away, he told himself. She'd been in town 48 hours and had managed to make him feel excruciating pain again.

  With hard won self-control, he refrained from checking the room where she'd slept. Instead, he strode directly to their bedroom and stepped inside. The space was dark. He flipped the switch by the door so the bedside light turned on.

  And there she was. Curled up on top of the covers, like Goldilocks. Suddenly his body went taut with desire for her. He wanted to wake her, shake her for what she'd done, then kiss her and drive himself into her until he stopped hurting.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  For a long time, he just stood there. His presence, the light, the palpable mixture of anger and desire that emanated from him must have awakened her. Sleepily, those gorgeous brown eyes opened. "Rye?"

  He jammed his hands in his pockets. He noticed she was dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a light sweater. She wore shoes. "What are you doing here?"

  She sat up and winced. "Oh, God." She pushed her hair back. "I…I was leaving. Like you asked me to. I got dressed, and my shoulder hurt. So I came in here to find some ibuprofen. I was so tired. I laid down for a minute."

  "It's two a.m."

  "Really?"

  He stepped back. "Jill, you've got to get out of here."

  Her eyes widened; hurt darkened them to the color of mink. "I said I was going."

  Caught off guard by the force of his feelings, he crossed to the other side of the room to the windows. Staring out at the wooded backyard, he held himself ramrod straight. "Please, Jilly, just leave. Now."

  Silence. "What's wrong, Rye?”

  "I don't trust myself to be near you. This has all been too much."

  More silence. A rustle. He sensed her approach. Felt her hand on his shoulder, then her arms slide around his waist. Her head rested on his back. The embrace felt so right he wanted to weep.

  "You don't have to be strong now." And then she whispered achingly, "Make love to me."

  Every cell in his body electrified, as if they were burning him from the inside out. "I can't. I meant what I said about not getting back together."

  "All right. I'll accept that. Make love to me anyway."

  "Jill, please, don't do this."

  "Make love to me one more time. Then I'll leave. No more explaining, no more begging. I promise I'll leave afterward."

  He couldn't do this.

  He couldn't not.

  Slowly he pivoted around. Her face was shining with so many things: love, desire, surrender. He watched her for as long as he could. And then he raised his hands to the buttons on her blouse.

  It had been so long since Riley had touched her like this, she startled when hi
s fingers skimmed down her shirt, opening the flaps, disposing the garment, gently kissing the bruise on her shoulder. He made quick work of her jeans. Gripping his shoulders, she was overcome with such a sense of loss, she had to battle back the tears.

  But she would not cry. If this was all she'd ever have of him again, she would not ruin it with tears.

  He knelt down and removed her shoes. His mouth skimmed the skin he bared at her stomach, and lower. "I couldn't forget how you smell," he said, his teeth nipping the tender skin. "Or how you taste." His face nuzzled her curls. "Jilly, I've missed this."

  She buried her hands in his hair. "I've missed it, too." The pressure of his mouth increased. "Rye. Oh."

  He clasped her bottom. "I always thought you were made just for me."

  "I was." She drew his head back so he stared up at her from the floor. "I love you, Rye. I never stopped."

  He stood but said nothing.

  Her hands went to his shirt. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons. Parting the cotton, she brushed her lips over his bare chest. He sucked in a breath as she tongued a nipple. "Mmm. The same cologne."

  He chuckled. She'd bought him the expensive designer product and every time he wore it, she wanted to jump his bones. Some things had been so good. She followed the scent down his body. On her knees, like he'd been, she buried her face in his stomach. He moaned. Then she went lower. "Oh, baby, no. I'll go off." Forcefully he drew her up.

  He kissed her like he loved her, a sweet, soul searching kiss that curled her toes. She felt herself being lifted, and held close to his heart. She belonged there. How could she ever have thought differently?

  When she remembered this was only for tonight, and the aching loneliness would return tomorrow, she stiffened. Gently placing her on the bed, he watched her as if reading her mind. "Shh. Just think about now."

  She did. She focused on his weight pressing her into the mattress, though he did that, too, gently, ever mindful of her bruises. “I love how you feel on top of me."

  Gently, he brushed back her hair. "I was always afraid I’d crush you."

  “This always made me feel so…feminine."

  "Oh, you are." He moved lower, began caressing her breasts, first with his hands, then his mouth. She was squirming by the time he sat up. Still between her thighs, he stretched out, and spreading his legs, drew her up so she sat half on the mattress and half on him. "You loved this position."

  "I remember." She braced her hands behind her.

  “I was surprised," he said, skimming his knuckles over her intimately. Her world dimmed. "You're so exposed, so vulnerable to me."

  She felt her whole body flush with heat. "This is how I really wanted to be with you. This was the only time I could let go with you." She captured his gaze. "Come inside me."

  "Ah, Jilly." He entered her.

  At the feel of him totally possessing her, she had to swallow back the tears. "Rye."

  He was touching her everywhere now, inside and out. She tried to savor the contact, savor the intimacy, but with the clever ministrations of his hands and body, all thought fled. Sensation took over and then her world exploded so all that existed was her connection with this man.

  Riley watched her face as she reached her climax. Making love, seeing her come apart, had been one of the most special times in their marriage, had given him a bond with her that they couldn't seem to achieve any other way. And here, on their bed, in the position they loved best, he felt himself drown in the sight and sounds of Jill, completely and utterly his.

  He could enjoy her only briefly, though, then his whole body tensed. As he felt the spasms in her, as she clenched him from the inside, his heart started to pound. His head filled with her, his body was consumed by her, and soon—too soon—he erupted inside her. Darkness, sensation, pure pleasure engulfed him as he gave himself over to her.

  They dozed, locked in a lovers' embrace. Riley held on to her, waking intermittently to see the red numbers on the clock ticking away their time together. As if she sensed it, too, she stirred. He eased up to a sitting position and lay back against the headboard. Knowing what was coming, she raised herself up and let him bend his knees and then cradle her head in his lap. Once again, she was totally exposed to him in another position they favored.

  Slowly he began the familiar ritual. He combed her hair back with his fingers. "Close your eyes."

  She did.

  He massaged the shoulder that wasn't bruised. "Relax."

  She picked up one of his hands, and kissed his knuckles, almost reverently, then put his palm to her breast. He kneaded there, explored her, leaned over to kiss her.

  Methodically, lovingly, he kept up the sensual exploration until she was writhing.

  Then he took her swiftly.

  They dozed again, and the next thing he knew, he was on his stomach and she was straddling him. His hands pillowed under his head, he let the feel of her strong fingers, the intimate contact of her lower body, soothe him. She rubbed his neck, kissed the indentation between his shoulder blades, tongued his spine. She kneaded his buttocks and he groaned. From before, she knew every part of him, knew what she could elicit from him, and proceeded to call it from him. Slowly, she tended to him like a harem slave, wanting to please her master. She leaned forward on him and sensuously aligned her body over the length of his, sliding from side to side, tightening her thighs against his, and grazing his back with her breasts.

  They made love one last time.

  In the morning, when he awoke, she was gone.

  oOo

  Riley knew she'd left him, after the sensual feast of last night, when he turned over and found their bed empty. He sighed and grabbed the pillow where her head had lain. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled the scent of her. Damn. He'd never, ever forget what it had been like making love to his wife again.

  His wife, who in a few hours, would no longer be legally his. As soon as he signed the papers today, the divorce would be final. The knowledge cut like a surgeon's knife.

  He ordered himself to get out of bed, but he didn't move. Instead he lay back and, clutching the pillow, pictured Jill as she'd been last night…

  Her body had slid over him, more female and more womanly than he remembered. I can't get enough of you, he'd told her…She'd worked her way down his body, relishing every plane and angle, inhaling him, as if she was trying to absorb him. Just before she took him in her mouth, she whispered, I want you so much. I've never, ever wanted you this much.

  He'd felt the same. Later, bracing his arms on either side of her, he'd brushed the hair off her face. You complete me, you make me whole. I haven't felt this way since you left.

  She'd hushed him with fingers on his mouth. Shh, don't talk about that. Just now exists…

  The feel and taste of her had erased all thought, eclipsed all anger and resentment at what she'd done to him. Now, he was startled to realize he'd never once, during their hours of sex, thought of her letting another man touch her.

  But, in the brittle light of day, reality intruded. She had let Rafe Santilli do those things to her. Because the images of her with someone else were ugly and obscene, he bolted out of bed and headed to the shower. Their relationship was over. Nothing could change what she'd done.

  He'd go to work and start forgetting her again. Aches and pains from his exertion last night kept her memory with him as the hot spray pounded him, as he dressed, and when he trundled downstairs. The coffee was brewed; he couldn't help smiling as he remembered how she couldn't function without it. He crossed to the pot.

  A cup was out, as was the sugar he craved. His heart twisted in his chest at that little consideration, today and in the past. She'd always teased him about his sugar addiction, but fixed his coffee as he liked it every morning and brought it to him with a kiss. Now, the memory carried pain.

  Which escalated to acute agony when he saw what was next to the pot on the counter. He picked up the papers, needing to see them. Needing a dose of reality.

 
; It slapped him in the face. She'd signed the legal divorce decree. He gripped the document and stared at the signature. His throat clogged as he read Jillian Kimball Sullivan.

  As far as he knew, that was the first time she'd ever used his name. Making him remember their fights over it.

  That doesn’t make sense. A lot of people, particularly women who had a career previous to their marriage, keep their name after the wedding.

  That's not why you're doing it. This is another distancing measure.

  Riley, can't you let anything go without a fight?

  Not this.

  The irony of her using his name on the divorce papers weakened him further. It still haunted him as he entered his office at Hyde Associates a half hour later. The offending documents were in his briefcase. He was at work only a few minutes when Jase came in.

  "Hi, buddy. How are you?"

  There was something about his friend's tone. "I'll survive." He noticed the single sheet of paper Jase carried.

  Jase caught his stare. "She came to the office just a bit ago, Riley. She called me and asked me to meet her here."

  “Why?"

  Jase held up his hand. “To give me this."

  Swallowing hard, Riley leaned back in his chair. "What is it?"

  He took the typed paper, scanned it, and felt like his world had crashed and burned. "She resigned." He looked up at Jase. "She had a few more months on her leave. Why'd she resign?"

  "She said she'd given up." Jase dropped to a chair. "I tell you, buddy, I've never seen Jill like that. She was always so strong, so sure of herself."

  He didn't want to know, but he had to ask. "Like what?"

  "She was jittery, as if she was going to fall apart any minute. And her eyes…they were stricken. She was hurting bad, buddy."

  Riley tried not to react. Tried to block out the images of his wife suffering.

  Jase studied him when he said no more. "Are you sure this is the right decision? You look as bad as she did. Like you've lost your best friend."

  "Maybe I did."

  “Then don't divorce her yet. Think about it a while longer."

  Angry and confused, Riley pounded his fist on his desk. "You're just feeling generous toward her because she saved your son from getting hurt."