Torrid

by Kaya Woodward

  “You’re not coming in.”

  “Just let me in for five minutes?” he pleads.

  “Two.”

  I relent only because we have neighbors, though I do keep one hand on the doorknob so that I can shove him right back out into the hallway from whence he came.

  “I was an ass the other night.” He begins, stating the obvious.

  “That’s an understatement.”

  My instinct to recoil from him leads me to take a few steps back so that I am leaning against the very door I want him out of.

  “You practically forced your tongue down my throat. That’s not an attractive thing for anyone to do.”

  “And I’m sorry about that.”

  He doesn’t look a touch remorseful, however. “I was just jealous.”

  “That’s not an excuse, and if you’re using it as one, get out now.” I’m poised to jump into action, force him out the door at any second.

  “I never said that was an excuse, Tinsley.” He tilts his head back, his hands folded together loosely behind his back, as though he doesn’t intend to give me the roses.

  The joke is on him, and I don’t want them.

  “What I’m trying to say is, there’s no excuse for what I did the other night. I made an ass of myself, and I embarrassed both of us in the process.” His eyes are drawn towards my cleavage, and I suspect my satin robe has shifted.

  I hardly have the upper hand when I am wearing nothing.

  For the first time in my life, I feel fear in front of a man, I feel vulnerable, and I don’t like that I am alone at this present moment.

  Connor’s overwhelming confidence makes me want to get him out the door even faster.

  “Well then, okay.” I begin to open the door, but Connor’s firm hand is suddenly on mine, stopping me from doing anything else.

  “You have to forgive me.” He states plainly. “And not because you want to, but because your life depends on forgiving me. All this comfort? The lap of the luxury you live in? All of that is hinged on our parents getting along, and you’re doing yourself no favors here.”

  There is an involuntary shiver that passes through my body that I’m suddenly aware Connor will stop at nothing to get what he wants out of me.

  “Connor, I told you I would think about it.”

  I try to appease him, give him a sense of getting what he wants, just to get him out the door.

  “Then just agree to this. We’ll put on a farce of a relationship, and everyone stays happy. It’s not like you’re dating anyone.”

  His blithe response tells me that he doesn’t believe it possible I could be having an affair.

  “And if you say you have to think about it again, I’m not taking that for an answer.”

  “Well, you won’t take no either.” I can feel my hands trembling, despite the warmth of our apartment, I feel as though I’ve gone ghastly pale because I’m at the end of the line.

  I can’t keep stalling.

  “So that’s a yes then?”

  That’s how this is going to work.

  I’m going to tell him what I want, and then he’ll coerce whatever he wants out of me.

  “Fine.” I press my lips together, my body leaning away from him. “Can you please leave now?”

  “If you insist.” He looks me up and down once more, holding out the roses, “Though I can certainly help you out of that, you can learn what a real man feels like, instead of toys.”

  “No thanks,” I reply quickly, my eyes downcast because I want to scream at him Noah is ten times the man that Connor will ever be.

  “Do consider my offer.” He hovers in the doorway, still holding out the flowers.

  I take them, just to get rid of him. “Never.”

  Connor laughs as though this is just a joke, and I will, therefore, succumb to him at some point because no woman can resist his charms.

  The whole thing infuriates me, makes me feel weak and insignificant.

  If I tell my father about this encounter, he’ll certainly lose his mind; then we’ll lose everything.

  I’m bound to keep my mouth shut.

  I’ll have to come up with other ways of dealing with Connor Bradford and make sure we’re never alone like that again.

  He makes it hard to breathe, as though I can’t get the air in my lungs and I slide down the front door, sitting in front of it trying to catch my breath.

  Only it gets harder to breathe, and my eyes begin stinging.

  I suppose this is what happens when one feels as trapped as they’ve made me.

  Like a caged animal, I can’t escape what’s coming next.

  The phone rings, and it’s Noah.

  I think about answering, but I send him a text instead.

  “I can’t tonight. Will call soon.”

  I hit send, and collapse on the sofa.

  I need some time to think this through.

  A shower seems to be just the thing.

  Stripping off the robe, I turn the hot water on until steam is coming out of the shower nozzles.

  I test it with a hand, and it is far too hot.

  Mixing a bit of cold water, I find the perfect temperature, and slide into the streams of pulsating water.

  The feel of the water soothes me, and soon I am washing my hair with some herbal scent shampoo, trying to wash the stink of Connor off of me.

  I scrub with a defoliating lotion, and use a luffa to purge any particles from my skin.

  The water refreshes me, and I soak under it until I am certain that I’ve gotten everything Connor washed down the drain.

  That asshole!

  I stand there for a moment more, then shut off the water supply.

  The water drips from my body, one drop slinking its way down my leg.

  I watch it melt into another droplet, then go falling all the way to the floor of the bath.

  Getting out, I towel myself dry.

  I come to a decision.

  Fuck Connor!

  I pick up the phone and dial Noah.

  “Tinsley?” Noah’s voice comes from the speaker and I am already melting.

  “It seems I can meet with you, this evening, Mr. Stone,” I tease.

  There’s an audible sigh of relief from his end.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing. I miss you, Noah. I’ll see you at eight, ok?” I ask.

  “You’re certain everything is fine, then?” he replies.

  “Noah, see you at eight, lover!” I say, with an air kiss.

  Then I hang up.

  Time to get dressed to the max!

  Noah and I meet at the restaurant for dinner.

  My panic attack has ended, and my breathing is back to normal, but he immediately notices that something is wrong.

  One look in the mirror of the women’s restroom tells me I’m flushed, and my face is creased with worry.

  It’s impossible for me to hide my emotions, especially around Noah.

  “Tinsley, I thought you said you were fine? What’s wrong?” he asks.

  I mentally recite all the things that are wrong, checking them off as I go.

  My parents would probably be more upset about Noah and me than my saying no to being with Connor.

  I highly doubt any interaction between us beyond friendship is acceptable to them.

  Noah and I are both aware of this, and though we are out for dinner together, they are under the impression this is just friendly.

  My parents would make it impossible for me ever to see Noah again if they found out what exactly we’ve been up to.

  Aside from the fantastic sex, I’m falling harder and harder for him.

  A quick phone call becomes hours on the phone, runs turn into lunches, and then dinner.

  All our days together have blurred into one delicious memory.

  In the middle of all of that is the certainty that I love him.

  This is wrong.

  This would be wrong to everyone we know.

  But,
I can’t help myself.

  It’s just too big to wrap my head around.

  Noah looks at me, standing there, worry in his eyes.

  “It’s Connor,” I finally say, in a quiet voice. “He came to apologize,” I confess.

  Noah’s voice remains even, though he does adjust his tie slightly.

  “And?”

  There’s that look in his eye again, and I know that if I say one word about how scared I was to Noah, he’s going to go bash down the Bradford’s door and beat the ever-loving daylights out of Connor.

  Which I wouldn’t mind.

  But, I want to be here with Noah, not see him arrested for assault and battery.

  “He wants to pretend to date, to appease our parents. Since I’m so opposed to the real thing,” I say.

  It’s as much as I can offer, without pushing Noah over the edge.

  “That doesn’t sound too awful, wouldn’t that technically help us?” he tries to be encouraging.

  “Don’t,” I tell him fiercely. “Don’t encourage me to pretend to date someone else, don’t push me away like that, I hate it!” I say, hurt that he would even consider it.

  “It’s not pushing you away,” he insists

  “You want to keep hiding this then? Us?” I ask.

  “No.” He whispers to me.

  “You think I want to just be here and have a stiff dinner with you? Pretend we’re friends? Constantly keep from holding your hand in public? You think that’s what I want?” he says.

  Sensing his eyes on me, when I look up at him, I know they are watery.

  “Isn’t it though?” I ask.

  “Tinsley, you know I would much rather tell everyone,” he starts.

  “Let’s get a table and some dinner, ok?” he says.

  Noah gets the attention of the maître d and soon we are ordering fine appetizers, and some ravioli.

  We get a bottle of wine, and I can tell Noah wants to order champagne, but I tell him I really am not in the mood for it.

  He waves off the sommelier, and orders a whiskey for himself.

  “I have good news,” Noah smiles at me. “My divorce is finalized, and it matters much less who I’m seen with. We’ve still got the issue of what your parents would suddenly think about the two of us. They allowed you to apply to Colombia, that’s a step in the right direction. You don’t want to push more on them at the wrong time?”

  I can tell Noah has been thinking hard about this problem.

  “Is there going to be a right time?” I argue.

  “Tinsley, if you’re going to tell your father that we’re dating, you can’t spring it on him,” Noah explains carefully, as though I don’t know my father well enough.

  But, he’s right.

  The last thing I want them to do is to take everything away.

  “This isn’t fair,” I protest.

  “Who cares who I’m with if you’re the man I love?” I cry.

  In my misery, I stumble over the words I’ve just said, wondering what I’ve just done.

  I look up at Noah in horror, suddenly afraid.

  “I love you too, but if we have to wait-” Noah realizes what we’ve just said to each other, and his gaze meets mine for a long time.

  Noah puts his hand over mine, despite whoever might see us.

  “I love you.”

  His whisper is slow, over a candlelit dinner, and the last of a bottle of wine.

  His words wash over me as though they are a wave of relief.

  Whatever tension was left in my body is gone, my worries about Connor, my parents, all of it disappeared next to Noah’s confession.

  “I’m a free man, Tinsley,” he says.

  He explains with certainty, taking both my hands in his now, neither of us caring.

  “All of this will blow over; I don’t think we need to shove everything on them at once, do you?” he says.

  “I think I agree.” I smile at him, biting my lip harder.

  But I know whatever my parents say will not affect us because it’s out there now.

  We are entirely in love.

  The slow determination of falling in love with someone is so spectacular; I can’t imagine anything feeling this wonderful.

  “You heard the part where I’m divorced right?” Noah asks.

  “Yes.”

  I bite my lip.

  “You're divorced now,” I say.

  “I'm no longer married,” he repeats.

  “You're free,” I reply, wondering how many ways there are to say it.

  “Free of her,” Noah corrects me. “But, I am going to the middle east, for two weeks, so I will have to leave. But I'll be back by mid-November.”

  “When are you leaving?” my lips automatically form a pout, “I'll miss you.”

  “Friday, on Halloween. If you don't mind, can you help Athena with Evan? I don't know what kids do these days on Halloween,” he asks.

  “I… can't.” I groan, remembering my earlier promise to Connor. “I have this stupid… fake date. With Connor.”

  Noah nods, thoroughly unenthused about it.

  “Well, just see how it goes,” he says, sipping his whiskey.

  “I don't want to see how it goes; I don't want to pretend, I want to be with you,” I plead with him.

  There’s no harm in honesty now.

  “And I want to be with you, but there's no harm in waiting,” Noah explains carefully.

  “We're already together,” I point out.

  “I love you,” Noah shakes his head.

  “No arguing, not tonight.”

  Smirking as he signs the check.

  “You are the only woman I've said I love you to, in a long time, and I hope you realize how much that means,” he says.

  “Noah, I do.”

  I stand up, slipping on my jacket as we exit the restaurant.

  “Then come home with me, and then me prove it to you,” his whisper is fierce, as he slips his hand into mine.

  We wander out into in the crisp Manhattan air holding hands and take a short cab ride to his penthouse.

  Love is not only in the air; it's now an actual word that’s been said between us.

  Noah’s intensity is more powerful, and it’s impossible to hold back when kissing him.

  Every single kiss carries an intense wave of satisfaction.

  He is mine, and that is all I care about.

  Noah’s hands drift up the backs of my thighs, giving his security guards another show I presume, as we continue kissing all the way up the elevator.

  Somehow he unlocks the door, and slips my coat down my shoulders, all without breaking the most incredible kiss.

  With one hand in my hair, the other on my waist, he backs me up against the couch in the living room, and my hands eagerly go to work on his tie.

  My dress rises higher up my thighs at his behest.

  “Noah?”

  Olivia's voice stands out, and we suddenly stop kissing

  “Olivia!” Noah gapes at the sight of his ex-wife, and I fall backward onto the couch.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia cannot mask her shock; her face transforms from wounded to furious in seconds.

  “This is who you're having an affair with!” her scream fills the penthouse, and I fight the urge to cover my ears at the shrill sound.

  11

  Noah

  October 20, 2009

  “It's not like that,” Tinsley gets the words out as she rights herself on the couch, looking at me half-heartedly.

  Only, it's exactly like that.

  This is what it appears to be.

  “Noah, I want an explanation. Now!” shouts Olivia.

  Olivia taps her heel on the hardwood floors, and I am tempted to tell her to stop, lest she damage them.

  There isn't much to do but sigh and pour the three of us a drink.

  “Noah!” Olivia screams my name at the top of her lungs. “A whiskey neat will not fix this, you old bastard!”

  “Olivia calm dow
n,” I instruct.

  Then, I hand her the glass anyway.

  She holds onto it for dear life, looking as though she will faint, as she takes a seat in the chair across from Tinsley, eyeing her.

  This makes me consider that Olivia may try to strangle her.

  Olivia isn't a violent woman, however.

  “It's what it looks like,” I blurt out.

  “Noah!” Tinsley gasps.

  I bend down and kiss her on the cheek, taking a seat beside her.

  “Well?” I wave a hand. “There's no use in lying? Is there?” I say with a shrug.

  Tinsley folds her legs underneath her on the couch, leaning against me and I wrap an arm around her.

  “Don’t worry,” I whisper.

  Tinsley’s lower lip is jutted out, those hazel eyes shining up at me, wondering what we are to do.

  All I want to do is take her to bed, so I try to make Olivia leave.

  It’s as though Olivia sees what she can’t possibly compare to and she looks even paler.

  So, I move towards Olivia, and crouch beside her for a moment.

  “Olivia, our marriage was over long before anything ever happened between Tinsley and I,” I say.

  “How long?” she asks me under her breath, as though Olivia does not want Tinsley to hear.

  “Give us a moment?” I turn to Tinsley, who nods and disappears.

  Olivia waits until she hears a door click before demanding again, “How long has this been going on Noah?”

  Tinsley is probably waiting for me in my bedroom.

  “Not long enough for you to worry,” I say.

  I want her out as soon as possible.

  “She's young enough to be your daughter,” Olivia reminds me.

  As though I could forget.

  “And Jamesen Whittaker's daughter, for fuck’s sake! Of all the women in New York you could fuck, you chose her?” she says.

  Her harsh whisper makes me wonder if she will slap me.

  “I understand that it’s…unseemly,” I tell her.

  But there isn't an ounce of regret in me.

  “You will only hurt her,” she says.

  Her anger flares up, and she pushes me away from her, causing me to lose my balance and land right on my ass, a foot away from her.

  “If you hurt that girl, you will only cause problems for yourself,” Olivia stands over me, extending a hand to help me up.