Another Woman's Man

by Shelly Ellis

  “Yes, I do,” he said with a firm nod. “I know I want you. I want you, and nothing’s going to change that.”

  She was wavering. He could see it in her eyes.

  “If we go there,” Dawn said, “there’s no turning back. If you thought you felt guilty before, you have no idea how guilty you’ll feel when—”

  “I know what I feel. I’m aware of what I’m asking. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.”

  He meant that. It had been slowly evolving over time, but the instant Constance refused to give up going to St. Thomas, knowing how ill her father was, something in their relationship permanently shifted. His mother had been right: Constance was shallow and self-involved as well as ungrateful. If he wasn’t sure where his heart and his allegiances were before, he certainly knew at this point. They were with Dawn. She was the woman he cared for and wanted to be with.

  Dawn hesitated again.

  “Let me take you home,” he said.

  He felt his chest tighten and his stomach clench as he waited for her answer. If she said no again and got in the cab, he would accept it. He would have to. He would go back to his car and drive to his condo alone.

  Xavier watched as she slowly closed the cab door.

  “So you don’t need a ride, then?” the driver yelled.

  “No,” Dawn said, meeting Xavier’s eyes. “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, shit,” the driver muttered before shifting the car into drive and flooring the accelerator.

  He pulled off with a screech and a plume of exhaust in his wake, but they didn’t notice. They were still gazing at one another.

  She grimaced. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispered.

  “Come on.” Xavier tugged her forward. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 24

  Dawn opened her apartment door, felt along the wall in the dark, and flicked the switch on her left, flooding her living room with light. Xavier trailed in behind her. She set her leather purse and her keys on her glass coffee table.

  They entered her apartment in silence, just as they had carried out the car ride there. All they wanted to say had already been said. Dawn had exhausted all her arguments to talk Xavier out of this. She had tried to reason with him and tried to do the right thing for once, but he just wouldn’t listen. And honestly, she wasn’t prepared to put up much of a fight tonight.

  Seeing her father like that in his hospital bed had been too much for her to handle. Dawn hadn’t felt so helpless and hopeless in her life. She couldn’t save her dad or extend the days they had left together. She was losing the man she had just gotten the chance to know. And her mother, who was too wrapped up in her own life and the family rules, would never understand her pain. Her sisters could try, but the sympathy they felt wouldn’t come close to what she knew Xavier was feeling. He had lost a father too. He cared for Herb just as much as she did. There was no doubting that. What better person to commiserate with tonight than him?

  “But this isn’t commiserating,” a voice in her head warned. “This is fucking!”

  That was true, and despite Xavier’s protests that he was walking into this with his eyes wide open, she wondered if he really meant that. She didn’t believe her father for one second when he said Xavier was in love with her. Xavier desired her, that’s all. And now he felt he could no longer put up a fight against that lust.

  In her thirty-seven years, Dawn had slept with more than her fair share of guys who were in serious relationships but had given in to their animal urges. A few had cheated on their wives and girlfriends without even flinching, but others, once they left the bedroom, walked around like they had the scarlet letter “A” branded on their pecs.

  She had always shaken her head and laughed at those guys, at their guilt and fickleness. But she knew she wouldn’t laugh at Xavier if he felt guilty after this. He was a man with a lot of integrity. He seemed to take his promises very seriously, and he had made a promise to Constance. He had given her an engagement ring. The girl had a right to believe that she was the only woman in his life. How would he feel if he broke that promise to Constance, if he broke his fiancée’s heart?

  “Stop acting like it’s her heart that you’re worried about,” the harsh voice in her head replied. “There’s no reason for her to find out about this! They’re going to make up after this little tiff between them. They’re still going to get married and ride off into the sunset together. You’re the one who’ll get her heart broken!”

  Dawn tried to push all those weighty thoughts aside as she took off her coat, but she was having a hard time doing it. She was so nervous that she could barely undo the knot in her belt.

  Xavier shut the front door behind him and walked toward her. “You need help with that?” he whispered. He reached for her, letting his hands trail along her waist before slowly undoing the knot.

  She trembled at his touch. Her pulse began to race. He hungrily gazed at her as he let the belt fall to her sides. He cupped her face and leaned down, swooping in for a kiss.

  “Do you want some coffee?” Dawn suddenly blurted out just before their lips brushed. She abruptly turned away from him, rushed across the room, and hung her coat on a nearby rack.

  Xavier frowned. “Coffee?”

  “Yeah, I could use some.” She rubbed her hands together anxiously. “H-h-how about you?”

  Dawn didn’t wait for his reply. She walked into her kitchen and started opening cabinet doors in search of clean coffee cups. She found two white ceramic mugs and almost dropped them both as she removed them from the shelf. Her hands were shaking so badly.

  Damn it, girl, get a grip!

  Dawn took a deep breath, gently set the mugs on her countertop, and started to load one of the plastic K-Cups into her coffeemaker when she felt Xavier’s hands on her shoulders. She halted. She could feel the heat of his palms through the silk fabric of her shirt, sending a warm tingle up and down her spine. Unlike her hands, his were firm and steady.

  “Colombian roast or Nantucket blend?” she squeaked.

  He didn’t answer her, but instead leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms to the front of her blouse. He slowly undid each pearl button, all the while kissing her neck, then her shoulders, and nibbling at her earlobe.

  If she felt like her heart was pounding fast before, it was nothing compared to now. It was like her heart was trying to pound its way through her rib cage.

  When he opened the last shirt button, he delved inside, pushing aside the lace cup of her bra. He held one of her breasts in his large, warm hand. She leaned back against his chest and moaned.

  He teased the nipple with his thumb and forefinger while sliding the hem of her skirt up her legs with a slowness that was almost taunting. When Dawn felt Xavier’s other hand slide between the junction of her thighs, she gripped the counter to steady herself. The taunting slowness he had shown before was nothing compared to the torture she was enduring now. His fingers played her like a master musician would his instrument, and she grew wetter and wetter. She eased her legs open to give him more access, to allow him even more play and he pushed aside the waistband of her thong and took full advantage. One hand worked in the slick dampness while the other toyed with her breasts, coaxing her like she was clay, making her moan again and twist and grind against him as she gripped the counter.

  Xavier pulled his hands away and roughly turned her around to face him. Her eyes flew open. There was no more hesitation or guilt now.

  While he pulled the hem of her blouse out of her skirt and pushed the garment off her shoulders so that it landed on the kitchen’s tiled floor, she undid the knot of his tie and began to open the buttons of his shirt. While he undid the clasp of her bra and yanked the straps off her shoulders, she undid his belt buckle and lowered the zipper of his pants. The couple was almost frantic, removing clothes as if they were on a timer, as if their clothes were the last barrier between the need tha
t had been building inside them for months.

  They stood topless in her kitchen and Dawn trembled, more due to anticipation than the cold air around her. She gazed at him. She hadn’t seen him this naked since that day on the basketball court at the community center. He looked just as good now as he had then—maybe even better. She wanted to rake her nails over his washboard abs, bury her face in the hair on his chest, and inhale his scent.

  Just as she was openly admiring him, Xavier was admiring her too. She watched as his eyes slowly trailed over her body, from her brown shoulders to her dark nipples to the leather boots on her feet. She had felt naked before, but not as naked as she felt now. He reached out and held her breasts.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, making her smile. She kissed him again.

  As their tongues danced, he hiked up her skirt and pushed her lace thong down her legs. She stepped out of her underwear and kicked it aside. The thong landed somewhere near the stove.

  She looped her arms around his neck and hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Xavier cradled her backside as they kissed. She loved the warm feel of his skin and drank in the intoxicating smell of his aftershave and cologne. The hairs on his chest tickled her nipples and made the nubs even harder.

  He shifted her back and sat her on the very edge of the cold granite countertop, shoving aside everything behind her. The ceramic mugs fell to the floor, shattering on impact, making her jump. They were joined by spoons and her sugar shaker.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” the quiet voice in her head asked her as Xavier parted her thighs and stood between them. He continued to kiss her as he reached into his back pocket for a condom. “Just like there’s no turning back for him, there’s no turning back for you either.”

  Dawn didn’t get the chance to consider the thought any further. Seconds later, he entered her with one hard thrust. She cried out against his lips and tightened her hold around his back.

  He moved enticingly slowly at first, easing in and out, letting her get used to the feel of him inside her. One of his hands gripped her bottom to steady her while the other held her breast and grazed her nipple as he pumped. After a few minutes, she arched her back and rocked her hips to meet his thrusts, testing his measured control. She felt his grip on her bottom tighten and he plunged deeper. Suddenly, the tempo of their lovemaking increased. The controlled pace disappeared and she was finding it hard staying perched on the edge of the counter. She worried they would both go crashing to the kitchen floor.

  Dawn could feel it coming. She started to tremble and her hips started to buck uncontrollably. She still clung to him to steady herself, but she could feel her grip becoming slacker. The vibrations were more pronounced now, undulating all over her. She twisted and squirmed and he thrust even harder. She shouted his name when the spasms overtook her body. Her yells were drowned out by his shouts a few seconds later, which echoed off the kitchen walls and ceiling.

  She fell back, hitting her head against one of the overhead cabinets.

  “Ow,” she muttered, then giggled.

  “Damn, are you OK?” he asked with a laugh. He rubbed the back of her head.

  Dawn nodded and gazed into his eyes. She felt giddy, happy, and content all at the same time, and this wasn’t just postcoital afterglow.

  She was helplessly in love with this man and she knew that what they had just done would make things twenty times worse for her. But for now she didn’t care.

  “Kiss me again to make it all better,” she whispered before looping her arms back around his neck and raising her mouth back to his lips.

  Dawn slowly opened her eyes the next morning and raised her head from her pillow. She squinted at the bright light peeking through her bedroom blinds and turned to Xavier, who was still sleeping in bed next to her. His forearm was over his eyes. His chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Only half of his body was under the bed sheets and satin comforter. The rest was unabashedly on display in the bright morning sunshine: one large foot, a finely sculpted calf and thigh, and the dark patch of hair around his groin that trailed up the length of his stomach and chest. He looked worn out and frankly, she was too.

  Last night, they had been greedy, enjoying every sexual pleasure they could think of that involved two people, lots of stamina, and flexibility to boot. They made their way from the kitchen to her living room, to the shower, and finally, the bedroom. Xavier might usually be reserved, but he certainly wasn’t reserved in bed. By the time they fell asleep at four a.m., they were down to their last condom and exhausted. The instant Dawn closed her eyes, she fell blissfully asleep.

  The night they had spent together had been amazing, but not just because of the sex. Dawn had never felt that way about a man before, and during the night, Xavier had said things to make her think he cared about her too.

  “Of course he did,” the voice in her head mocked. “Men will say anything when they’re having sex with a woman. He probably would have said he was an alien if you asked him.”

  Probably, Dawn thought as she looked at Xavier. She reached out for him, wanting to tousle his curls and run her finger along his jaw, but she stopped herself. She pulled her hand back and turned away.

  It didn’t matter what he said last night. She wouldn’t hold it against him. He had said whatever she wanted to hear and done whatever she needed him to do to comfort her. That was it. He had made her feel warm and loved. He had made her forget her pain—at least for a little while. But now in the light of day, Xavier was bound to feel differently. Men always did. It was better to accept it now. Longing for something she couldn’t have would only make things worse. Besides, she had her father to worry about.

  Dawn slowly eased out of the bed, careful not to wake Xavier. She crept naked across her bedroom floor and grabbed her blue satin robe, which was slung over her desk chair. She put it on, tied the belt around her waist, and tiptoed out of her bedroom into her living room.

  She grabbed his suit jacket and went to the kitchen next—only to find that the room looked like it had been hit by a cyclone. Their clothes were everywhere. Broken shards of ceramic cup and sugar were spilled all over the tiled floor. Her bra dangled from the granite countertop. His pants were by the stainless steel refrigerator. She sighed, grabbed a broom and a dust pan, and cleaned up the mess. She then gathered their clothes and carried them back into her bedroom.

  Dawn neatly folded his shirt, jacket, and pants over the back of her desk chair. It was then that Xavier finally started to awaken. He wiped his eyes and opened them. He pushed himself to his elbows and yawned.

  He looked just as handsome now—with sleep dusting his eyes, a five o’clock shadow on his face, and bed hair—than he did when he was impeccably groomed and wearing one of his tailored suits. He loudly cracked his back as he stretched.

  “Good morning,” he said as he cracked his neck and flexed his shoulders.

  “Morning,” she answered halfheartedly in return. “You sound like you’re popping bubble wrap. Do you always make that much noise when you wake up?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe. You’re the first person to comment on it.” He stopped stretching. “How’d you sleep?”

  “All right, I guess.” She turned and grabbed a brush from her vanity dresser top and began to brush her hair, trying her best to put on a stoic front. “How about you?”

  “I slept okay. Except . . .” Xavier leaned over the edge of the bed and reached for her, cupping her bottom and grabbing her around the waist, catching her off guard. He dragged her toward him. “I kept having the dirtiest dreams last night.” He gave a wicked smile as he slowly pulled pack a panel of her robe and began to slide his hand up the inside of her legs. At his brazen touch, she could feel a familiar dampness budding between her thighs. “Frankly, I couldn’t wait to wake up, climb back on top of you, and—”

  “You should probably take your shower first,” she said, tugging out of his grasp and changing the subject to t
opics that didn’t have quite as much of a physical effect on her. “The hot water isn’t always the best in my bathroom. The shower can get cold pretty quickly.”

  “Then take a shower with me like you did last night. That’ll definitely conserve hot water.” He reached for her again and she took another step back.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “What’s not a good idea?”

  “For us to take a shower together.”

  “Why not?” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why do you assume something’s wrong?” She huffed. “I just . . . I just don’t want to take a shower with you. That’s all! Don’t make a big deal about it.”

  “I didn’t think I was making a big deal about it.”

  “Well, you are.”

  He eyed her. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “I’m not acting like anything!”

  He glanced at his clothes, which were neatly folded on her chair, and pointed at them. “Oh, you’re not? So why the hell are my clothes sitting over there? Huh? Is that what this is all about? You want me to hop in the shower and be on my way? Were you planning to kick me out?”

  “I’m not kicking you out!” She dropped her brush back to her vanity table top. “I was . . . I was . . .”

  “You were what?”

  “I was just . . . getting your clothes ready so . . . so they’d be waiting for you when you woke up and wanted to leave.”

  He glowered at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that! The night is over! Look out the window. The sun is up! I just thought—”

  “You just thought last night was a one-night stand and I’d leave your apartment and do the walk of shame back to my car. Go ahead. You can say it. It’s what you thought, right?”