Caught between my conflicting promises to my husband and to the father of my son, I remain silent. Jeremy’s eyes bore into me and, reflexively, I lift mine to meet them. When I see the hurt etched in to his handsome face, I wish I’d fought harder to avoid his gaze. My desire to ease his hurt, to give him everything he wants from me, wars with my need to stay the course with Silas. I press my lips together to keep myself quiet. Jeremy’s eyes narrow.
“Silas told you not to tell me, didn’t he?”
The edge of hostility in his voice rises with every word and I can’t stop my shoulders from trembling. I want to vomit, but I don’t. Squeezing my eyes shut, instead I count to ten. When they blink open again, I’m staring at Jeremy’s hiking boots and I remember the last time he’d worn them. The last time we were alone in these woods we’d had a very different type of conversation. We’d communicated in grunts and moans. I whimpered and he roared. Clenching my thighs together, I take a deep breath. That was before.
“Look at me, Sylvie,” he demands.
Grudgingly, I meet his gaze again. The hurt behind his eyes has grown even more severe. I suppress the tears that threaten and bite my tongue hard.
“How could you betray me for him?” Jeremy ask, angrily. “What is it that he has over you? What could he possibly have done to earn your loyalty when I loved you more than anything…”
“He was there!” I shout in his face, unable to hold back the years of hurt I carry. “He was there when you abandoned me, me and Levi! Silas was there for me. He took care of us; he protected us. He loved us. He has done EVERYTHING to earn my loyalty.”
Quaking, I draw in ragged breaths while I try to still my heart. I’ve been so angry with him for so long. More angry than I was willing to let myself admit. I’ve spent years wondering if the man I loved chose to abandon me just like my selfish, stupid parents.
Even now, knowing that he hadn’t, that he’d been stolen from me by forces beyond his control, the anger and hurt still rage within. I am the mad, whirling vortex threatening to devour everything around me. My inner turmoil threatens like a maelstrom, capable of destroying anyone who comes close. But Jeremy doesn’t back away. He holds my gaze. The steadiness that I used to admire in him radiates from his colorful eyes.
“Maybe he’s the reason I couldn’t be there for you, Sylvie? Have you considered that?”
I wince. I have considered it; I’ve considered nothing but that possibility for the last two days. Hearing it aloud is more painful than the thoughts swirling in my mind. Jeremy sees the change and he reaches for me. His hand lands on my elbow and strokes down my arm to take my hand.
“Your husband has been talking to Noah. Did he tell you that?”
My shoulders fall and Jeremy nods. Silas told me yesterday that he hadn’t spoken to Noah in weeks. Why would he lie? What is he keeping from me now?
Detaching myself from Jeremy, I bring both hands to my lips in prayer. I need answers, answers I can only get from Silas. Shaking my head, I turn to head for my car.
“You’re just walking away?” Jeremy calls after me. “I thought you said I deserved better?”
Salty tears begin to fall, but I keep walking. Jeremy crunches the leaves as he follows behind me.
“Maybe Silas did tell you everything?” he postulates as he walks a pace behind me. “Maybe you know everything he’s done and you’re standing by him anyway. Hell, maybe you planned to get rid of me with him and everything between us was some sort of sham from the start?”
Swiveling around, I swing at him unrestrained, but he catches my fist and pulls me close to him, crushing me against his hard body. My chin quivers. He glares down at me as I tremble in his arms. He follows the stream of tears down my face and when he meets my gaze again, his eyes have softened.
That moment stretches out in beautiful cruelty. He looks at me the way he used to. He looks at me like a man in love. He looks at me as if the last four years hadn’t happened and I want so many things I can’t have.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, releasing my wrist and stepping away from me. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”
We stare at each other. All I can think is that I want to be close to him again. Back in his arms where I belong, where I’ve always belonged. He glances at my mouth and I imagine that he feels it, that he wants me, too.
A single drop of moisture lands on my nose and I look up. Thunder rumbles in the distance. A wind that I hadn’t noticed before chills the air. Jeremy follows my gaze and his teeth grind together.
“Let me get you back to your car,” he says, “You shouldn’t be out in the rain. It’s bad for the baby.”
I look at him with confusion for a moment before I remember that I’d let him believe I was pregnant. Nodding, I smile tightly and turn to resume my way back. We move quickly as the sky threatens to open up at any minute. I try to keep my eyes forward, but the smell of him, the sound of him walking so closely, draws my attention.
“Do you have to walk right on top of me?” I ask.
“Sorry,” he says, gesturing for me to continue and keeping a couple of paces behind.
After another few minutes of walking in silence, the intermittent dribbles have become a light drizzle and the carpet of leaves and earth underfoot has grown slick. Stepping more cautiously, I notice what looks like the remains of a picnic on the path ahead. Lightning cracks in the air. I glance up, startled, and lose my footing.
I experience everything in a flash: stabbing pains in my ankle and my thigh, Jeremy, trying to lift me back to my feet, my own wounded yell when I try to put weight on my leg, a red stain blossoming on my grey hiking pants.
“Who leaves broken glass in the woods?” Jeremy growls as he eases me back to sitting.
Looking around I find the offending litter, a broken beer bottle a few feet away from the picnic waste with my blood painting its edge. Removing my backpack and pulling out my first aid kit, I try to ignore the ache in my ankle.
“We need to pull your pants down, Sylvie.”
Nodding, I slide them down my thighs carefully avoiding the cut. I hiss when Jeremy pours water over the wound.
“It’s not deep,” he says. “Do you have sterile wipes and a bandage?”
I hand him both and he cleans and covers the wound quickly.
“It should heal without a lot of drama. You probably won’t even need stitches,” he says as I ease my pants back over my hips.
Standing, he offers me his hands, but I pull up my pant leg and try to rotate my ankle, instead. Sharp pain radiates as I groan through the attempt. I suspect a sprain.
“You can’t walk on that,” he says, as the light rain clinks on the foliage around us and the thunder continues—closer now.
He lifts me and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck.
“We’re still a couple of miles from my car. You can’t carry me the whole way.”
“We aren’t going to your car,” he says. “I passed a cabin when I was hiking in. I think I can find it. We’ll wait out the storm there.”
“There aren’t any cabins in these woods, Jeremy.”
“Let’s hope I’m right and you’re wrong, because the rain’s getting heavier.”
“Okay,” I tell him warily, not that he’d asked my permission.
“You trust me?” he asks, pausing as the rain flattens his dark hair against his head.
His pupils are fully dilated and only a hint of gold circles the black centers. I nod. I do trust him. That beautiful mouth of his curves up before he continues his trek through the damp woods. Resting my head on his shoulder, I drink him in the way I’d tried not to earlier. I pray that he doesn’t hear the involuntary sigh that escapes when I do.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The rain pounds down on us and the wind limits my ability to see what’s ahead. My shoulders burn as we near the small building hidden among the trees. The term cabin was too generous a description for the structure; it
’s little more than a shed. But I can’t carry her any further and she can’t walk on that ankle.
“You were right,” she says. “It must be for the park rangers.”
I don’t answer. Placing her down, I lean her against the wall while I try the door. It’s locked. I grope the door frame and find nothing. Looking around for a hide-a-key, I notice a sprinkler head poking out of the ground—there are no sprinklers in the woods. I have to dig it out of the mud, but when I do, the top twists off and I smile at Sylvie as I hold up the key.
Inside, the dark room, I reach for a light switch more out of habit than anything. When my fingers connect with a plastic nub and the lights blink on, I’m surprised. I’m more surprised still to see a couple of chairs, a bench, a table, and a closed metal cabinet.
“There must be a generator in the brush outside,” I say, easing Sylvie on to the bench.
She’s shivering. Wet curls, and wet clothes cling tightly to her small frame. I look around for something to dry her and see nothing. The floor looks clean so I take off my mud-caked boots. She winces when I take the boot off her swollen foot.
Opening the cabinet, I find some clothes in plastic bags as well as a first aid kit, candles, flashlights, blankets, and some non-perishable food products.
“It’s got to be some sort of emergency shelter, or maybe a break room for the rangers,” I guess.
Opening up the bag, I pull out a tan shirt and tan pants with the Muir Woods logo on the front pocket. The clothing looks about my size and there are two sets of uniforms. Sylvie will be swimming in the clothes but at least she’ll be dry.
“Arg,” she groans, holding her water-streaked phone out and placing it on the table. “I can’t tell if the battery is dead or if the water damaged it, but I can’t get it to power up.”
“I left mine in the car,” I tell her.
“What’s that door?” she asks, nodding at a door along the far wall.
I push it open and find a toilet and a sink. With a snicker, I turn back to Sylvie.
“Running water.”
“No way!”
I shrug before I turn the faucet to wash my hands. It sputters but then cold clean water flows out, and I thank my lucky stars as I rub the dirt off. There’s no towel so I shake my hands dry and begin to peel off my wet clothes.
My shirt’s off and my pants are undone before I notice her watching me. Our eyes connect and she looks away. I remember the way she used to caress me with that gaze. It feels like just a few months ago that she would watch me undress for her with lust-filled eyes. Her tongue would explore my body until every inch of me hummed and the sensation was too much for me to bear. Then I’d bring her mouth to mine and that tongue of hers would find a new purpose.
Kissing Sylvie had been like finding a well after walking through the desert. As soon as my lips touched hers, I struggled not to drown in my thirst. There was never any satisfaction; I always wanted more. As soon as I pulled away from those lips, I longed for the next time I could taste her.
It was all I could do not to capture her lips with mine in the woods. She was so close. Her body had softened in my arms. She wouldn’t have pushed me away. Her lips parted, her eyes beckoned. I could have had a taste.
But I’m too smart and too determined to let myself indulge in that kind of foolishness. I would have wanted more, needed more. The last thing I need is to indulge my thirst for her, for all the warmth and sweetness that she used to provide. Because she’s made it so clear that those days are over. Lost. Stolen.
She glances my way again and her gaze sears my flesh. I close the door, creating a physical barrier to remind me that what I want, I can’t have.
When I’m dry and dressed, I open the door again. Sylvie is eyeing the other set of clothes and I realize that my torture hasn’t even really started yet. She’ll need help to get dressed which puts me in direct contact with her skin. Clenching my fist I take a breath.
“You need help,” I state.
“Just with the pants, I think.”
Moving toward her, I pick up the shirt and pants on my way and place them on the bench beside her. Her dark eyes follow my movements. With a swallow, I turn. The storm outside beats down on the small window opposite me. The leaves dance in the wind as the sounds of her undressing behind me play in the air.
I’ve dreamed of every inch and every curve of her body since I woke up. But I haven’t really seen her in years. She had Levi and I can tell from a distance things have changed. She used to be all sleek lines and sharp dips, but now when I look at her I see luscious curves. I want to explore them all. Her breasts used to be small and perky, a perfect fit for my hands. What would it feel like now to cup them in my palms?
“Okay,” she says. “Can you stretch my pant leg over my ankle?”
Looking back, I find her dwarfed inside the khaki collared shirt. I smile and she does too.
“It’s not an ideal fit, but it’s dry,” she says as I crouch down to pull the bottom of her pant leg around her puffy ankle and foot.
She pushes it down over her hips as I pull and the pants slide off her limbs quickly. I turn again once they’re off.
“Wait,” she says, “Can you pass me a fresh bandage and some more sterile wipes?”
I hand her the first aid kit from the cabinet without turning back. Paper tears. She hisses in discomfort. I hear shuffling and I imagine her slipping off her wet panties.
“You can turn around now,” she says.
She’s rolling up her pant legs when I do. She winces. Reaching over her, my face brushes against one of her wet curls. She looks up just as I wrap my fingers around the handle of the first aid kit.
“You should take something for the pain,” I tell her, searching the kit until I find a packet of acetaminophen.
I get her water bottle from her backpack and hand it to her with the package. She hesitates.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s fine for the baby.”
I can’t hide the heartache in my voice. Watching her wince again, I take satisfaction in knowing that my pain still matters to her, at least a little. She wrings her hands and looks down.
“There is no baby, Jeremy,” she whispers, “I only let you believe that because I thought it would be easier for all of us.”
I stare at her for a moment as my joy and my hurt war, tearing at my insides.
“You lied to me so I wouldn’t pursue you?” I ask. Humiliation warms my face and colors my retort.
“Why go to all the trouble, Sylvie? All you had to say was that you love him and that you don’t love me. I would have let it go.”
I can’t tell if I mean the words or not. I don’t know what I would have done or said, but the fact that she’d go to such extremes to keep me out of her marriage is a kick in the throat.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I… I don’t know how to be around you, Jeremy. I don’t know what to say or how to act.”
My irritation melts as she meets my eyes and I see how torn she is. She tugs uncomfortably at the long sleeves of her shirt and I chuckle. Joining me, she shrugs.
“Not exactly my best look, huh?”
“Well, this is hardly a photo-op moment anyway, is it?”
“Not like the last time,” she says as hesitant eyes meet mine.
“The last time,” I mutter as the memory comes back.
* * *
We’d hiked for a half an hour and I’d been grumpy and sullen the whole way. Huffing, she stopped in front of me. Hands on her hips, she tilted her head and planted her foot. The top half of her chin-length hair was held away from her face, but the shorter hair at the bottom—dark locks that refused to be contained—curled softly against her neck.
“If you’re going to keep making that sound,” she asked with a hint of a smile, “can you at least tell me what you’re so salty about?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I gripped her waist and brought her to me. “It’s just
work stuff. Moore keeps saying I ought to let it go, but it’s nagging me. I didn’t realize I was making any sounds. I don’t want to ruin the afternoon.”
Kissing her nose first and then her jaw, I lifted one hand to brush the damp curls from her nape. Then I kissed her there, too.
“I promise,” I added, as she sighed and angled her head to give me more access. “The only sounds you’ll hear from now on will be yours.”
Brushing over her nipple, I felt it pebble through her shirt and sports bra. I smiled at her and grazed my teeth over her shoulder.
“And they’ll be pleasured,” I finished with my hand sliding from her waist to her ass and gripping hard.
Gasping, she leaned into me, thrusting her breast into my palm. Her lips found my ear and sucked on my lobe.
“I wouldn’t mind hearing you make some happy sounds too, lover.”
Glancing around with her lip clasped between her teeth and a mischievous glint in her eye, she took my hand. When she moved off the trail into the brush, I laughed and followed her. Rounding a giant old redwood a ways off the trail, I found a slight indent and pulled her against me.
My back scraped against the rough bark, but my front was covered with her. With one arm tight around her, my other hand gripped the back of her skull and pulled her mouth to mine. The kiss made the rest of the world disappear. Her soft full lips drove away every tension and every ounce of stress. Everything that I’d carried into the woods with me evaporated as I devoured her. Tugging at my zipper, her hands brushed at my cock and I tilted my hips to press into her hands.
“You’re magical, woman, you know that?” I asked, when I pulled away from her mouth.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, pulling at my bottom lip with her teeth.
She released my cock from my pants. I turned her away from me and pulled her back against my chest.
“Oh, yeah!” I murmured in her ear.
Gripping her close, I pressed my dick against her ass and sunk two fingers into her mouth. Her lips closed around them, sucking as I imagined those lips around my length.
“Suck harder,” I growled as I ground against her.
Everything Stolen Page 14
