Will's Way

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Samantha put a finger across his lips. “Hush,” she said. Will did and gazed into her lovely face. Lord, her beauty up close dazzled him and drew him like a magnet to iron. To his surprise, Samantha hadn’t recoiled or drawn away with shocked horror. Instead, she lifted her hand to stroke his cheek with light, gentle fingers. She caressed the ruined flesh, touched the raw ridges of scar tissue with something like reverence. If he didn’t know better, Will would think she liked what she saw.

  “So, what do you think now?” he taunted. “Describe what you see.”

  Her answer rocked him to his core. “You have gorgeous eyes. They’re a rich, warm brown, almost chocolate and they’re so revealing. They reflect your emotions and I swear I can see your soul looking out at me.”

  Will grunted. So he had great eyes. Nice save, he thought, good try. He’d been complimented on his eyes before. “Spit out the rest. Tell me the truth.”

  Samantha’s deep blue eyes, the color of a perfect summer sky, met his without blinking or wavering. She drew a deep breath then released it. “You’re beautiful, Will, inside and out.”

  Before he could process her words or could think, Samantha pulled his head toward her. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her perfect, rose-bud lips against his scarred mouth. Will remained frozen for a few seconds in total disbelief, then he put his arms around her and kissed her back.

  She tasted of mint and lipstick. Her lips molded against his, fever hot and so gentle he wanted to weep with a new kind of joy. Will kissed her with slow, soft sweetness as his body ignited. A wild heat combined with a rush of pure, potent desire greater than any whiskey high, poured through his body with powerful pleasure. He ramped up the kiss. Her body pressed against his and when her hands linked behind his head, he trembled with amazement. He made the kiss last, stretching it out until he struggled to breathe. Samantha’s scent enveloped him and he wanted to drown in it. When their lips separated, he drew back to scrutinize her face.

  Samantha’s eyes sparkled as she gave the look back. Her lips curved in a wide smile. She didn’t pull away or frown, he noticed, and he saw none of the obvious signs of revulsion. “Oh, Will,” she said with a contented kind of sigh.

  He touched her face. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Will shrugged. “Gee, I don’t know, unless you have a thing for Freddie Krueger doubles.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I hope that’s sarcasm, not self-pity.”

  To his surprise, it was. “Yeah, it is, I think.”

  “I guess that’s a start.”

  Perplexed, he asked, “What’s that mean?”

  “Maybe you’re going to deal with it. It’s about time,” Samantha said. She used one finger to trace the worst scars down his cheek. “Maybe you’ll figure out your face doesn’t equal you. Let’s go get some breakfast. I’m hungry.”

  He ached to agree but uncertainty balled up within. “I don’t think I’m ready for a restaurant, honey, not even with you. I make a mean plate of steak and eggs if you’d like to come over.”

  She twisted her lips together and he figured she’d refuse. Disappointment formed in his chest, cold as a ball of ice. He shivered, then sneezed. “Bless you,” she said. “You’re soaking wet.”

  “So are you,” he said, cold enough his teeth rattled. “You’ll relapse.”

  “I won’t but you might get sick. Look at you - you’re shivering. Okay, we’ll go to your place.”

  Will opened his car door and made up his mind. “Get in, you can ride over with me.”

  “What about my car?”

  “I’ll bring you back, later. Let’s go.”

  Samantha didn’t hesitate. She slid into the seat. The moment he shut the door and turned the key, he worried things might become awkward. To stall, Will kicked up the car stereo and she smiled at the vintage sound of Black Sabbath. “I knew it’d be heavy metal,” she said.

  He grinned back. “What else did you expect? You listen to the show, honey.”

  She put her hand on his thigh, intimate and not intrusive. “I sure didn’t think it would be Hank Williams.”

  Thirty minutes later, they were snug inside his apartment. Will wore dry sweat pants with a favorite football jersey. His bathrobe, something he seldom wore, enveloped Samantha. Her small feet swam inside a pair of his socks. She’d dried her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. “Coffee’s ready,” she called as he entered the kitchen.

  “Thanks. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Then let’s eat. Is steak and eggs still okay?”

  Damn, she was so adorable wrapped in his too-big robe. “I’ll eat whatever’s on the menu,” she told him. Their potent attraction sizzled between them, so strong he could almost grab it with his fingers and hold it tight.

  Self-conscious, Will cooked the steaks the way he liked them, pan-seared on the outside, pink in the center. He cracked four eggs with one eye on the skillet, the other on Samantha. She cradled a cup of coffee between her hands and chattered. As far as he could tell, her attention riveted on him but he failed to detect a hint of disgust or revulsion in her steady gaze. Instead, she laughed at his lame jokes, responded with enthusiasm to any topic he introduced, and sent frequent, warm smiles his direction. Her presence in his private space, a place no one else had ventured or been welcomed since he moved in, delighted him. It also scared the bejesus out of Will. He’d let Samantha in and empowered her with the potential to hurt him.

  He’d kissed her. His mind replayed the moment and each time, his body revived the delicious pleasure. He relived the sheer wonder of it as he pondered his total shock she hadn’t turned away from him with horror. Hope burned within, its small flame flickering larger as he talked and cooked. Will served her a plate with a medium rib-eye and two eggs over easy and waited to see if she liked it.

  She cut a bite of steak, dipped it in runny egg and ate it. Her expression turned dreamy. “Oh, that’s good,” she cried.

  “That’s about all I can cook,” he admitted. “But, it turned out pretty good.”

  He lied. The simple meal tasted more delicious than anything he’d ever eaten and the flavors enhanced by her company. For the first time during his residence, the kitchen became cozy and comfortable. Outside, the rain continued with the downpour steady against the roof and windows. They talked and laughed throughout the meal. Their conversation was light and unimportant but it soothed him. And, within, his unhealed hurts and the inner wounds which had festered for so long began to heal.

  Samantha insisted on doing the dishes so he dried them. The domestic task delighted him and afterward, he took her hand and led her to his battered couch. “Can you stay awhile?”

  The smile she offered lit her face with the glow of a candle. “Sure. It’s not like I have to go work or anything. I can stay as long as you’d like.”

  “Good,” he said. Will wondered how long it might be and decided he’d accept forever. “Samantha, I’m glad you showed up this morning. I’ve wanted to see you and talk to you but I got scared. I have a few hang-ups about the way I look.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  “After you hung up on me because I wouldn’t make a date, I wanted to call you back but I didn’t have the balls. When I didn’t hear from you, I went into a tail spin. You became a lot more than a caller a long time ago, honey.”

  Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I’m glad because you’re my best friend.”

  Best friend? Fuck that shit. He didn’t want to be her bestie - he wanted to be her man. As he struggled to find a way to express how he felt without courting disaster, Samantha touched his hand. “Hey, don’t look like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re all forlorn and sad. What’s the matter, Will?”

  Either say it now or give it up. “I don’t know if your definition of a best friend is the same as mine, that’s all.”

  Confusion clouded her expression. �
��A best friend is your closest pal, the one you can tell anything, the one you know will be there to back you up, no matter what.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But does a best friend do this?”

  Will cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her with powerful intensity. Samantha put her hand on his shoulder and snuggled closer. He used his lips to caress her mouth and let his tongue wander into her mouth. After the deep kiss, he pulled back. “So is that something best friends would do?”

  She grinned, full-wattage and bright. “Oh, yeah, since you’re mine.

  His heart raced and beat so hard he thought it might turn cartwheels. “Am I?”

  “Of course, you are. I just told you so,” Samantha said. Her other hand dropped to his crotch. She put it over his stiffening cock. “That and a whole lot more.”

  Her words sparked wildfire, swift, unpredictable and impossible to control. His body charged with a rush of electrified desire. His toes tingled and his cock hardened. Will wanted her but he hesitated for a long moment. Samantha reached up beneath his jersey and fondled his nipples. He sucked back a moan. “Oh, honey,” he breathed. “I haven’t done this in a long time…”

  “I know, I know,” she said, her voice tender and yet impatient. “You haven’t since the accident. I don’t think you’ve forgotten how, Will.”

  He hadn’t, not if his body told the truth. He had one hell of a boner within his sweat pants. “I haven’t ridden a bike lately, either.”

  Samantha laughed at his poor excuse for a joke. “Me, either but I’m willing. I don’t do this with just anybody, you know..”

  “Then why do it with me?” Enough fear remained to prompt the question. If he went through with this, he had to know first.

  “I think maybe I love you.” Her words dropped into his consciousness, sweeter than rain onto drought stricken crops. “I fell in love with your voice, Will, a long time ago. Is love reason enough?”

  If she didn’t stop talking, he’d come now and since he wanted to savor the pleasure, he answered. “Oh, yeah, honey, totally.”

  One minute they were cuddled close and the next they exploded into a wild frenzy. They shucked their clothing, lost garments along with inhibitions and came together skin to skin. Will stroked her beautiful bare body, his hands delighting in each caress. Samantha touched him everywhere as she traced his scars, held his cock in her hands and stroked it. She tweaked his nipples, used her nails across his back and put her mouth over his nipples, one at a time. When she used her tongue to lick a trail from nipple to groin, Will lost the battle.

  He rolled her backwards onto the couch as she groped for her purse. Samantha pulled out a single condom and handed it to him. “I didn’t figure you’d have any,” she gasped. Will nodded, grateful but too far gone to speak. He sheathed his dick with it and slid into her. His gentle entry took him all the way into her cleft. Samantha used her legs to drive him as deep as possible then clenched tight around him. Their combined friction brought intense waves of pure pleasure each time they moved as he worked in and out in a steady rhythm. He leaned on his forearms to support his bulk. Samantha’s hands roamed over his body, patting and petting.

  Each stroke brought them closer to climax and when they came, they exploded together in a rich, wonderful burst of ultimate release. After, he collapsed against her, then caught his breath and decided he’d probably smash her. He shifted position and managed, with difficulty, to end up holding Samantha in his arms in an awkward tangle. Will kissed the back of her neck.

  “Honey,” he said. “I’m one up on you – I know I love you.”

  Laughter erupted from her lips, bright and filled with melodious joy. “I’ve caught up,” she said in a husky whisper. “Scratch ‘maybe’ because I do.”

  He had to hear it. “Say it.”

  “I love you, Will.”

  Three words did what therapy failed to accomplish, what his stubborn, bitter spirit had rejected for so long. Her declaration might complete his healing process, something long overdue. If Samantha could love him, then maybe he wasn’t so loathsome. With her at his side, he thought he could find the courage to reveal his scars to the world, to be who he was within. He wanted her again. “Come to my bed, honey.”

  She did and they loved each other again, slow and sweet, without hurry. Afterward, neither slept but they lay together, body to body, souls merged. They whispered affectionate words, used endearments, and after several hours, when sleep threatened to take Will under, he had one more thing to say.

  “I think you saved me.”

  Samantha snuggled closer to him and almost purred. “I know I did.”

  “How did you know you could? I figured I was past redemption.”

  Samantha laughed. “Where there’s Will,” she said. “I knew there would be a way – Will’s way.”

  The old adage he’d known since childhood, his grandmother’s old mantra, took on a new meaning, one with the power to carry him through hard times and long nights. “It’s really your way, not mine,” he replied, one finger tracing a fine line from her forehead to her bare belly.

  She shook her head. “I like to call it Will’s way.”

  “And?” He prompted her, sensing there must be something more.

  “I love you, Will.”

  If he lived to be a hundred and five, Will would never tired of hearing those words or take them for granted. “Love you, too, honey.”

  Her beautiful eyes gazed at him, calm and serene. To her, I’m whole. I’m not damaged goods, I’m not ugly or a monster. I’m Will and thanks to Samantha, there’s a way.

  He had a lot of living left to do and more love than he’d ever imagined could remain anywhere, for anyone, let alone a bitter, damaged man. But he’d been broken and now he was almost whole again.

  Grandma was right. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

  His way - and Samantha’s.