Mad Love

by Colet Abedi

  “I wanted to kill him for even touching you. Do you know how hard it was to control myself when I saw you in his arms?” He doesn’t give me time to answer because his tongue begins to work its magic, stoking the inferno that rages inside. Within seconds, I explode, my climax rocking my body as I come against his mouth, dying a thousand slow deaths from the exquisite feeling.

  He moves over me and his mouth finds mine, kissing me. I hold him close, never wanting to let him go, the force of my desire consuming me like a wildfire. He rips his mouth away from mine, breathing savagely, and I grab his face and force him to look at me.

  “You hurt him.” My voice shakes with the depth of my emotion. “He didn’t deserve that.” I need him to hear that what he did to Jerry is not okay. Hurting a man who was only trying to win me back, however misguided it might have been, was not right. Jerry hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Clayton’s inhales sharply as his eyes blaze in anger.

  “I don’t give a fuck how he feels!” His voice is raw with emotion. “And I won’t have you feeling an ounce of pity for him. Not a thought. Not a fucking word! Never utter his name to me again!”

  Is he serious? Well, yes, Sophie, look at his face. Have you ever seen anything so serious in your life? It’s ridiculous. Completely. Utterly. Ridiculous. But behind the anger, behind the insane jealous and possessiveness, behind it all, I know it’s because he cares.

  “Promise me!” he says as he pushes himself inside of me. My eyes close, savoring every minute, every piece of him that I can get.

  “Promise me, Sophie!” I can sense the urgency, the need, and I open my eyes to give him what he wants, because I know he needs it.

  “I promise you.” A look of complete satisfaction and ownership comes over his face as he pushes deeper inside me, filling me fully, making me tremble from the force. Fuck. I think I’ll die if don’t have him like this every day, inside me, filling me with every part of his being, his arms holding me tight, his mouth brushing against mine in that sexy way he does.

  “You belong to me.” I know, Clayton, I think to myself as I hold him close, my mouth finding his, trying to show him just how much I belong to him and want to be a part of him and his world.

  I never want us to end.

  I’m consumed with the depth of emotion I feel, not just for the ecstasy his body gives me, but for the man he is. I feel the tears start to fall as I find my release again as he’s deep inside me.

  “I love you,” I whisper softly, trying to fight the exhaustion that is overwhelming me. If I stay up he’ll say the words back to me, I know it …

  I lose the battle and am dead asleep within seconds.

  19

  I’m having trouble accepting the fact that I’m actually leaving the Maldives in one hour. My bags are packed and I’m waiting for Bikram to come and pick us up to take me out to the seaplane where I’ll be meeting Erik and Orie. I‘ve only been here for eleven days, but so much has happened that has irrevocably changed my life. I look over at Clayton, who’s working on his computer. He’s been suspiciously quiet all morning long, pensive and serious. I’m pretty sure he’s still mad that I’m going.

  When I started packing this morning, he asked me to stay. Last night in bed, he begged me to stay. Yesterday afternoon, again, he asked me to stay. For the past two days, he’s asked at every opportunity. But I can’t. It would only prolong the inevitable end of our time together here. And to stay without my friends, without their support, is too much for me to bear. I didn’t tell Clayton this though, because if I did, he would surely offer to pay for the extra nights for them and I know they would probably miss work to stay longer. And I can’t have that. Instead, I used my parents as an excuse.

  I don’t want to think about what will happen when I leave, how I will feel without him, our future together uncertain, our lives separated by more than just an ocean. It is too much. Too painful. And as Noom’s friend Dan told me yesterday at my session with him, it is not real until you are actually living it.

  I’m glad I decided to see him. In many ways, the time I spent with him prepared me more for today. I was unsure when I booked it, but now I know. I met him at the spa. He stood next to the massage table and asked me to have a seat on it. After I did, I looked up at him, feeling in many ways like a little girl again.

  “Tell me.”

  I burst out crying, my tears like a massive, neverending waterfall, my pain so acute that I didn’t even know where to begin.

  “Your heart is heavy with sadness, carrying a great weight of love and longing. Your tears should be those of joy, to have known a love so great and consuming, to have it change and help define who you are,” he said softly to me, as he pulled me down on the table, face up, and stood above me. “It is a great gift to be given such a love in this lifetime. To know it from the moment you set eyes on your twin flame. You should be rejoicing.”

  “How can I rejoice when we are to be separated?” I ask him, wiping my tears away. “I’m leaving tomorrow. And then what? Do I have to live my life knowing what I do and never finding it again?”

  “You do not know what tomorrow brings, Sophie. Or the next day, or the day after that,” he told me. “That is your first mistake. The universe does not put things in front of us that we cannot handle. There is a great meaning in every moment, every person, every experience you have.”

  “So what now?” I ask him. “What are you telling me to do?”

  He smiled at me as he closed my eyes. “Now you live. You be. Right now. Here. And you trust the plan. The moment. And that is all you trust. Because that is all you know.”

  He did his healing on me then, and it was incredible. My body tingled with energy, with life, and I felt a great sense of peace when I left him. The tears dried and somehow I knew he was right. Deep inside my soul, I felt that the universe would take care of me. It would make it right, it would make it as it should be. And there was a wonderful calm in that.

  “Come here, baby,” Clayton says to me, holding out his hand.

  I walk over to him and sit down on his lap, cuddling up against him and breathing his scent in. Relishing the moment, his touch, trying to memorize everything about it. He holds me tight.

  “Stay,” he begs me.

  “You know I can’t.”

  “You can. You don’t want to.”

  I pull away from him and let my fingers trace the soft lines of his face.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I have to go. Please don’t make this worse than it already is,” I whisper to him, begging him.

  “How can this get any worse?”

  I close my eyes and lean against him. It really can’t, I think to myself. The door rings and I know it’s Bikram. All of a sudden, I feel so nauseous that I can’t even think.

  “Fuck,” Clayton swears angrily, both of us looking at the door as if Satan himself is on the other side. I try to move out of his embrace, but he holds me tighter, not letting me move.

  “I have to get it,” I say.

  “You don’t.”

  I actually smile at him, shocked that I can find the courage to do that, and then I pull away from him.

  “You know I do.” I get up and answer the door. Bikram can sense the somber mood and quickly puts my luggage in the cart. Clayton gets up and follows me outside and gets in the cart with me.

  I take my last look at the resort as we drive over the wooden walkway, past the bungalows, and I silently thank the island. The sea. Noom. I thank it all. This small piece of paradise brought me the most magical experience of my life.

  We reach the dock and the plane is there, ready to take us away.

  I’m happy to see Erik and Orie are waiting for me. Shit. They look like I feel. Bikram unloads my bags and helps load them on the plane. I try to get off the cart.

  “Stay, goddamnit!” Clayton swears at me, holding me back. I’m trying to be brave, damn you, I think to myself. Don’t make me s
hatter now! I shake my head at him and pull away from his hold. He looks angry, upset, devastated all in one. He follows me to the end of the dock, where he holds out his hand to say goodbye to Erik and Orie.

  “Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure,” he tells them as they shake hands. “Please, take care of her on the flight home.”

  Orie pulls me into his embrace, knowing I’m walking a fine line and can crumble at any minute.

  “We’ve got her. Don’t worry.”

  “I hope we’ll see you soon,” Erik says to him, voicing the longing in my heart. Like can we see you in an hour, I think? Can you get on the plane with us to LA? Can you?

  “You will. Sooner than you think,” Clayton responds. Erik smiles at him. I know he likes his answer.

  I am handed a lifejacket from one of the men from the resort. I put it on and Clayton helps me buckle it tightly as Erik and Orie walk onto the plane. I feel so sick, I think I’m going to throw up. It’s surreal, like a complete fucking circle. Here he is seeing me off, there he was, helping me arrive. My hands move up slowly and I cover his as they hold onto my safety buckles. I close my eyes, knowing the inevitable tears are going to come.

  He leans down into me, putting his forehead against mine, taking a deep, heavy breath. I can feel his raging emotions, I know he’s upset with me for leaving. I know he’s upset at the whole situation. And I hate disappointing him.

  I take his hands and kiss each palm.

  “I want to thank you … ” I begin, my voice wavering with the depth of my emotion.

  “Don’t you fucking dare, Sophie. Don’t you fucking dare,” he responds harshly, like he knows what I’m about to say to him.

  He lifts my chin up and stares at me, his eyes ablaze with feeling.

  “This is not the end.”

  I can only nod.

  “Do you hear me?” he says roughly. “This is not the fucking end! Say it to me. Say it now!” he demands.

  My voice is choked up. I can barely speak, but I give him what he wants. “This. Is. Not. The. End.”

  He nods at me, then grabs my face between his palms and kisses me so passionately that I think I’m going to die.

  “I will see you soon. And when I do, I will punish you for making us both go through this mockery. Because it will never happen again.” He says it so savagely that my toes curl. I throw myself in his arms and kiss him again. Then I pull back slowly and smile at him.

  “I love you.”

  He doesn’t say the words back, like I wish he would, but I know he’s not used to emotions. It’s so strange. I’ve never uttered these words to a man before, and yet it feels so natural right now. I love him with all that I am, and even though I know he’s not ready to say the words to me, I am finally completely confident that he feels the same way, and it’s okay.

  “I do, you know,” I tell him softly.

  “I know, baby.” He pulls me in and holds me close.

  I cried the whole way to Male. And on the entire, four-hour trip to Singapore from Male. And just about drove Erik and Orie crazy. I don’t think they could much more of it. When we got off the plane in Singapore, with a three-hour layover stretching out in front of us, Erik turned to me and really let me have it.

  “One more goddamn tear and I’m going to scream.”

  I stared at him with wide eyes.

  “But … ”

  “No fucking ‘buts!’ He’s coming for you. He’s not letting you go. So stop your whining and go have a glass of wine. Make it two,” he ordered. “I’m going to Hermès in duty free to buy myself something nice. If I feel like it, maybe I’ll pick up a bangle for you. But only if you stop the damn crying. If I see one tear, one damn tear when I get back to the lounge, you can kiss the bangle goodbye. Now go drink.”

  So here I am.

  I grab my bag and turn my cell phone on, hoping that I have reception so I can connect to the Wi-Fi in the lounge. Thankfully, I do.

  I have three texts from Clayton Sinclair.

  When did I input his number in my phone? Um, I never did. I slowly smile. He must have done it himself, the sneaky bastard.

  Clayton:

  SOPHIE, TEXT ME WHEN YOU LAND IN SINGAPORE.

  The next one reads.

  Clayton:

  I’M FUCKING PISSED YOU LEFT.

  I start laughing.

  And then there’s another.

  Clayton:

  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LEFT. I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE THIS. THE VILLA, THIS RESORT, THIS PLACE IS JUST NOT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU. I MISS YOU, GODDAMNIT. CLAYTON.

  My heart soars. I feel so happy, so incredibly content, because of that text.

  I write him back instantly.

  Sophie:

  I JUST LANDED. I’M IN THE LOUNGE. I FUCKING MISS YOU TOO. XO SOPHIE

  I don’t even have to wait thirty seconds for his response. He must have supersonic reception in the Maldives.

  Clayton:

  DON’T USE THAT LANGUAGE. IT’S UNBECOMING OF YOU. AND YOU HAVE ONLY YOURSELF TO BLAME. PICK UP YOUR PHONE.

  The phone rings a second later and I answer after one ring.

  “I’m going crazy here without you.” His voice is even sexier on a cell phone. He’s calling me! I’m so happy I could scream.

  “I’m miserable,” I admit. Because I am. I want him to be with me. I want us to be together, wherever that place is, just together. And if I’m miserable now, I keep wondering how I will ever survive the rest of the separation. The time difference, the long flights? How?

  “Fly back. My assistant can book you a flight right now.”

  “You know I can’t,” I whisper to him, wishing the opposite was true.

  “You can drive a man mad, baby.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want,” I tell him, because it’s the honest truth.

  “You will,” he assures me, sounding completely confident.

  “I miss you, Clayton.”

  “I miss you too, baby.” I can feel the tears start to come again. Those dreaded tears.

  “I have to get a grip. Can we talk a little later?” I ask him, not wanting him to hear me cry.

  “Yes, that’s fine.” He sighs. “I know your layover is another couple of hours. I have a work call I’m jumping on right now that I should be off before your flight leaves. I will ring you right when I’m done, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, baby,” he says softly, then pauses for a second. “Sophie?”

  “Yes?”

  He takes a moment.

  “I’ve never felt this miserable before. I just want you to know that. I want you to know that you’re responsible for this feeling of discomfort I have. I’m not used to it. And honestly, I hate it. I don’t know what someone would call this … if it’s … ” My heart stops. Love. He wants to say it. “I don’t know, because I’ve never experienced this before.”

  It’s the most amazing thing he could have said to me. The sweetest, best thing—besides I love you—that he could say to make me soar.

  “I understand, Clayton,” I tell him.

  “Do you?” He sounds annoyed.

  “Yes. I make you queasy, angry, and uncomfortable.” I laugh.

  “Christ. I miss you,” he says sharply.

  “I’ll talk to you after your call, Clayton,” I tell him with a smile, so happy that he just told me how much he misses me.

  “Count on it.”

  “I do.”

  We hang up and I’m happy to note that I am feeling a little better. Knowing that he misses me is reassuring and gives me hope. I pick up my carry-on bag and go freshen up in the bathroom in the lounge, then make my way to the duty free.

  A couple of hours later, and after blowing even more money that I don’t have, I find Erik and Orie in Gucci buying aviator sunglasses that look suspiciously like the ones Clayton had. I smirk at the sight.

  “Fancy you two liking those.”

  “That’s a very English thing for you to say,” Orie smiles
at me. “I’m guessing lover boy called?”

  “He did.”

  “Thank fucking God. Can you imagine a flight home listening to her cry the whole way?” Erik says to Orie with a look of pure horror. “The thought makes my skin crawl. But if that happened I’d slip an Ambien in your drink and call it a day,” he admits.

  “You’d drug me?” I ask him, feigning horror, even though I know he probably would; for humanity’s sake, he would tell me, and for his own sanity. Shit, I’d probably welcome it under those circumstances.

  “One hundred percent. No doubt.” He turns to me with the aviators on his face, posing like a runway model.

  “How do I look?”

  “Pretty damn good.”

  “Could you die?” He smiles at me then tells the sales lady, “I’ll take these.”

  “I’m going over to the newsstand. I want to pick up some magazines,” I tell them.

  “Grab an US Weekly and People. I feel so out of the loop with my celebrity gossip,” Erik asks me as I head out.

  They have a pretty impressive wall filled with about one hundred different magazines from around the world. It’s so overwhelming, I don’t even know where to begin. I grab the two that Erik wanted me to get, then pick up an interesting-looking magazine for artists, a UK Vogue, a Bazaar, then stop dead in my tracks when I get to Hello magazine. What the hell?

  I can feel the bile rise in my throat.

  It can’t be, and yet it is. It’s him. Clayton Astor Sinclair. On the cover of a magazine. And he’s not alone.

  The headline reads:

  Lord Clayton Astor Sinclair on again with the beautiful Amelia Von Peters.

  It’s a picture of Clayton and Amelia taken a few days ago in Singapore. When he told me he was going for business. He’s wearing the same suit he had on that day, so it can’t be a picture from the past, and there’s no mistaking the Maldivian tan. His arm is around her, holding her close, as they’re caught on a street corner in the city. In broad daylight.

  Like a lunatic, I read the article, which gives a location and time. An eyewitness even says that they were caught leaving the Ritz-Carlton Hotel arm in arm. They look so in love. What a handsome couple they are, another witness said of the two them. As if on cue, my phone rings and it’s him. Clayton. I don’t answer as I stare blindly at the magazine. Moments later, Clayton rings again. And I still don’t answer.