by M. S. Parker
I couldn't deny though that the thought of never having met them – her, I corrected myself – was almost as painful as what I was going through now. Would I really trade what I'd had to avoid my pain? No, I thought. It was worth it. I looked down at the woman in my arms. For her though...would I give up those precious memories if it meant stopping her hurt? As she raised her head and her eyes met mine, I knew the answer to that question.
Yes.
I lowered my head before I knew what I was doing. All I knew was that I wanted to take away her pain, and since I couldn't go back in time to fix it, I did the only thing I could.
I kissed her.
Her mouth was salty with her tears, her lips trembling beneath mine. My instinct had been to comfort, but when she opened her mouth, her tongue teasing out against my lips, my arms tightened around her. I expected her to pull away, to push me away. Maybe even slap me again.
Instead, her arms went around my neck, her fingers twisting in my hair. I knew I should stop it, that she was vulnerable right now. We both were. And my body knew hers.
As she started to pull me down onto her, I broke the kiss. I'd done so much wrong. I had to do right here.
“We–” I began.
“Please,” she asked, her eyes shining. “If you ever felt anything for me, help me, for even a short time, to forget that she is gone.”
I kept my eyes locked with hers, searching for any hint of doubt. She ran her fingers through my hair and then down my cheek to my lips.
“Please,” she said again.
I couldn't deny her, not this. I shifted, moving her off my lap to lie back on the sofa. Her robe was still untied and it moved apart as she settled, exposing a strip of familiar flesh.
“If you want me to stop,” I said softly. “Just say it.”
She nodded, and I slid my hands up her long legs, moving until I was between them. I moved up on my knees, toeing off my shoes as I went. A flush crept across her fair skin as I pushed her robe aside, baring everything. It was odd to think that, though I'd seen this body several times, she had no memory of it. No memory of me touching her in this way.
I pushed the thoughts aside, leaned down, kissing her stomach just above her bellybutton and then worked my way up slowly, giving her plenty of time to speak if she didn't want me to go further. Instead, she made a small sound and put her hand on the back of my head. Her fingers moved through my hair as I reached the spot between her breasts. I cupped one firm mound, fingers teasing her nipple while I flicked my tongue against the other. She moaned, her hand tightening in my hair as I took her nipple between my lips.
It was strange. Her body responded to my touch, but not the same way as it had before. I could feel the difference. She wanted me, but she wasn't going to take what she wanted. My stomach twisted at the realization that she was trusting me to take care of her. Before, with her – I refused to think of either name – it had been equal parts give and take, relinquishing control as easily as I took it. Now, as she looked down at me, watching as I sucked on the sensitive flesh, the walls that had been there before were cracked and she was bare in more ways than one. The trust she had in me was humbling and I became even more determined, not just to please her, but to take her away from all of this for as long as I could.
I released her breast and slid my hand down her stomach, fingers dipping between her folds to find her already slick. She gasped as I rubbed her clit between my first two fingers, then cried out when my teeth scraped over her nipple. Her passage was tight as I slipped my middle finger into it, closing my eyes at the wet heat gripping my digit. My cock was already throbbing, straining against my zipper, but I kept my mind on the task at hand. This was about her, not me.
Without losing a stroke, I kissed my way down her body, open-mouthed kisses that left me with the taste of her fresh from the shower. I only removed my hand as I settled between her legs, half-sitting in a slightly awkward position. The sofa had definitely not been made for two tall people to do this.
“Will you take off your shirt?”
I looked at her as I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. When my hands went to my waistband, I paused. She nodded. I stood and removed the last of my clothes. Another wave of surreality washed over me at the heat in her eyes as she looked at me. For her, this was our first time together – our only time.
I sat back down and slid my hands underneath her, cupping her ass to lift her. I couldn't lay down to do this, but I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to taste her. I kept my eyes on her face as I lowered my mouth. Her eyes widened as my tongue danced across the delicate flesh, tracing patterns across her inner thighs and up and down her glistening lips. When it moved inside, teasing her entrance and then up to her clit, she breathed out something in Czech, a phrase I recognized though I didn't actually know what it meant. My heart skipped a beat as, for a moment, I saw my Kat.
I looked down and pushed my thoughts aside. Katka wasn't real. The woman with me was Livie, and while my thoughts were confused about the entire situation, I did know that I cared about her. I took her clit into my mouth and she cried out, her hips pushing up against me. Repositioning my hands, I held her with one while the other moved between her legs. I slid two fingers into her, earning a moan that sent even more blood rushing south. I alternated suction and pressure on her clit while keeping a steady pace with my fingers until I felt her start to come apart.
Her pussy tightened almost painfully around my fingers as her climax hit. I watched as she bit her bottom lip to hold in her cries, breasts heaving as her muscles tensed and relaxed. I lowered her ass back down to the couch, letting her ride out her orgasm before I curled my fingers and rubbed against that spot inside her.
Her eyes had been half-closed in post-orgasmic bliss, but they flew open now, lips forming a surprised O. As I continued to massage her g-spot with my fingers, my other thumb stroked across the top of her clit and a second climax hit her with enough force to make her wail.
My chest tightened. I'd never imagined Livie capable of making that sound, but I'd heard it before. I gently brought her down and removed my hands from her sensitive skin, giving her the space to pull herself back together. Before, I'd just have slid inside her, bringing her from one climax straight into another, but I wasn't going to take that last step without being absolutely certain this was what she wanted.
“Blayne.”
Her voice was so soft that I almost didn't hear it. She raised her hand, holding it out to me, the invitation clear. I took it and let her pull me towards her. As I settled above her, resting my weight on my hands, I asked again, “Are you sure?”
She nodded, but made no move to initiate. I propped myself on one elbow and reached between us, positioning myself at her entrance. Slowly, I pushed my way inside. She moaned as I entered her, her hands wrapping around my upper arms. She might not remember us doing this before, but her body did and it adapted to mine perfectly. No matter what else had changed, that much was still the same. We were two halves of the same whole.
I locked eyes with her as I rocked against her, short little thrusts to give her a chance to adjust mentally, and when she nodded, I began to move. Long, deliberate strokes designed to reach every place inside her, to make her feel me. Her breasts pressed against my chest, nipples hard. Her fingers dug into my biceps, and her breath came out in little sounds of pleasure. I hadn't thought I'd be able to last when I first entered her. She was tight, so hot, and my body had been begging for release. But as I focused on her, on giving her everything I could, my own need, while not lessening, became not as important.
Her breathing quickened and I saw her eyes glaze over. As her head fell back, I pressed my mouth against her throat, gently sucking on the soft flesh. She said something in Czech as she came, and then said my name. I tensed, the combination of hearing my name and the way her body quivered around mine sent me over the edge. My hips jerked against hers as I emptied myself inside her and I could feel tears burning against my eyelids. I buried
my face in the crook of her neck as we gave ourselves over to our pleasure and our grief.
I rolled us over so that we were on our sides, unable to stop the pang of loss as I slid out of her. She didn't see it though as I pulled her back against me, my front flush against her back. I tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, the gesture so familiar that it gave me pause. I'd wanted to give Livie comfort and I'd wanted it from her as well, but I could feel it now, something deeper. A desire to protect her, keep her safe.
Before I could analyze it, try to figure out what it meant, she was pulling away from me, tying her robe shut and standing up. She didn't look at me as she picked up my clothes and tossed them onto the sofa.
“This was an error in judgment,” she said.
I didn't have to see her face to know that those walls had slammed back up. I sat up.
“We cannot be together. You should go.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested as I stood. I started to reach for her, but she jerked away. “Let's at least talk about this.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” she said, still not looking at me. “I am broken, Blayne.” Her voice was flat. “And it seems that I have been this way for a long time. I need to focus on getting well. On dealing with...everything.”
I pulled on my pants, not liking how vulnerable I felt naked. “I'll help you. I've already talked to a psychiatrist.” She stiffened and I quickly explained, “I was trying to figure out what was going on and went to see a doctor I knew. She told me about the options you have.”
I took a step towards her, my shirt in my hands to keep me from trying to touch her again. I needed her to listen, not to close down even more. “No matter what you decide to do, I want to be there for you.” I hesitated, and then added what I was only just now starting to admit to myself. “I want to be with you.”
She shook her head. “You do not love me, Blayne. You loved Katka.” Her voice trembled on the name and then grew strong again. “But she is not real. I am not her.” She crossed her arms, shoulders hunched as if she was trying to protect her heart. “You deserve someone whole. And I wish that for you.”
I opened my mouth to protest again, but she cut me off.
“I will honor our contract so that you will still receive your inheritance, and I will schedule business during family events so you will not need to give an excuse, but we cannot be together. You must leave now.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so many arguments I wanted to make, but nothing would come. She'd closed me out and that was it. There was nothing I could do.
It was over.
Chapter 6
Blayne
I spent the rest of Friday on my couch, staring aimlessly at the television. I didn't care what was on, not even changing the channel when infomercials started. It was all white noise, a buzzing in the background that had no connection with the reality of what I felt.
I kept waiting for the door to open and Livie to walk in, hair pulled back, outfit still perfect despite having been at the studio all day. Or maybe she'd come out of her room after working hard on new sketches and get something to eat. We'd never spent much time together here, but I'd become used to her presence.
And then there was Katka, my Kat. Her easy smile. The way her eyes glowed when she was excited about something.
Around Livie I felt stable, like I could accomplish anything just because she believed I could.
With Katka, I had wanted to be better to deserve her.
For the millionth time, I reminded myself that Katka hadn't been real. All of those things about her that I'd loved, they had been made up by Livie. Her mind had taken the child she'd known and grown her into the woman Livie had thought her sister would become. None of the characteristics that had drawn me to Katka would've existed if Livie hadn't thought of them.
The problem was, I didn't know if that was actually true or not. The more I thought about how different Katka's personality had been from Livie's, the more I realized I was wrong. I remembered conversations I'd had with Livie when she'd been Katka, and how I'd been told that Livie had once been a happy child. Not exactly carefree, but also not the same serious woman I knew. And they had the same strength. Livie's was driving, pushing her towards her goals and perfection. She'd manifested that same trait as Katka through a stubborn streak and a determination.
Then there was how they looked at me. I'd noticed it before but I'd chalked it up to them being twins. I knew now that I hadn't wanted to see it. The depth of faith those women – that woman, I reminded myself – had in me was so unfounded. As herself and as Katka, Livie believed in me. She didn't see me the same way my family did. She didn't even see me the way Samuel did. She thought of me as more.
Even as I laid in bed, attempting to get some sleep, I was forced to admit that the things I'd loved the most about Katka were the same things I'd admired in Livie. Strength. Independence. The way she saw people. The smile was the same, even if Livie showed it far less. The difference, I finally realized, was that Katka had let me love her.
In a way, it was a relief to know that I hadn't been thinking about one woman while in love with the other. I'd been in love with only one woman the entire time. Livie hadn't created some completely foreign personality. All of those parts of Katka had come out of Livie.
At some point during my introspection, I fell asleep. It was a fitful sleep, full of dreams where I was chasing someone I couldn't see. I would wake long enough to know it was a dream, but couldn't stay awake long enough to avoid it happening again. By the time I woke on Saturday morning, I felt more tired than when I'd gone to bed in the first place.
One thing, however, was different. I knew now what I wanted. I may not have fallen in love with Livie the way I had with Katka, but I'd been starting to care about her as more than just a friend before I'd known the truth. Now, I could say I simply loved her, all of her. And I wasn't going to let her go without a fight.
While I showered, I debated about whether or not I should go back to the hotel. I ultimately decided against it. I'd start with a call. I would talk to her, try to get her to see that I could help her, that she didn't have to do it alone. I made the first call as soon as I got out of the shower, but it went to voicemail after a couple of rings.
I waited a couple hours and tried again. This time, it went straight to voicemail and I started to worry. Was she avoiding my calls, or was something wrong? After arguing with myself for a minute, I tried Katka's number. Voicemail again.
By late afternoon, I was back on my couch, even more miserable than before. I'd left messages, but she hadn't called back. I stared at my phone, looking at the two names and numbers until I flicked my thumb across the screen, sending my contact list scrolling. Maybe I should try to get my mind off of things while I waited for Livie to return my call. The problem was, sitting here wasn't doing it.
As if my thoughts had triggered it, my phone rang. For a split second, before the name registered, I thought it might be Livie. It wasn't. It was Tommy. I hadn't heard from him since I'd gotten married, and I hadn't really missed him, but right now, I was willing to talk to pretty much anyone.
“Hey, Tommy.” I managed to keep my voice normal. “It's been a while.”
“Yeah, well, I had a little problem a couple weeks ago and had to make myself scarce. I've been in DC.”
That made me feel better about him. I'd really thought he'd completely blown me off because I wasn't out partying anymore.
“I'm back now,” he continued. “And it's Saturday night. You ready to go. I got some premium shit.”
I closed my eyes. “Tommy, remember when I said I couldn't go out anymore?”
He laughed. “Come on, you can't be serious. There's no way you've gone all this time without some pussy.”
A flare of anger went through me. “I'm married.”
“So?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I'm not cheating on my wife.” There was an ironic amusement in the claim now
that I knew I'd never cheated, but I didn't want to think about it.
“You don't have to do anything,” he said. “We'll hit a couple strip clubs, watch hot girls get naked. Get plastered, have some fun.”
“I can't, Tommy.” Even as I said it, I realized it wasn't that I couldn't. I didn't want to. The thought of being packed into a club with a bunch of other men staring at naked half-plastic women while they gyrated to too loud music made my head hurt. And even though a part of me liked the idea of the oblivion offered by alcohol or one of Tommy's special little pills, the majority of me didn't want it.
“Never thought I'd see Blayne Westmore pussy-whipped.”
I hung up the phone without even bothering to respond. Even if he had been telling the truth about why he hadn't talked to me in weeks, it didn't matter. I knew the truth about who Tommy was. I'd always known.
I stared at my phone, waiting to see if he'd call back. He didn't though. It didn't really surprise me, I realized. What did surprise me was how little I cared. Tommy had been my friend for a long time, but I wasn't that person anymore. I saw it clearly now, that person I'd been. Irresponsible, childish, selfish. I'd cared more about what I wanted and how things affected me than I did about other people. I'd treated Samuel like my own personal 'get out of jail free' card and never even stopped to consider how it had affected him. Worse, I'd gotten Livie caught up in my crazy life simply because she'd fulfilled a need. I'd liked her from the moment I'd met her, but I'd still been thinking about myself. Helping her had just been icing on the cake. It hadn't been that I didn't care about other people, only that I'd cared about myself more.
Now, however, even with as much pain as I was in, all I could think about was Livie and how much she was hurting. I wanted to help her, no matter what it cost me. My father's ultimatum had been all about behavior, making me look like a respectable son and someone worthy of our family name. It had done that, but it had also done so much more.
It had made me want to be a better man.
