Behind the Blindfold: A Sexy Mystery Duet

by Natalie E. Wrye

  “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Blake.”

  Karen gave a small curtsy, sauntering her way over to the elevators.

  Now, Mark and Saturday were alone.

  The electricity between them was starting to sizzle. It built a charge everywhere around them that made Saturday’s hair stand on end.

  But Saturday was already pulling back, attempting to escape from this unseen but palpable attraction that drew her to him like gravity.

  Why does he have to look so good, smell so good… feel… so. damn. good?

  She stepped backward as he stepped forward.

  He reached in his back pocket before thrusting a small envelope out.

  “Don’t forget the access cards,” he said. “You guys have room 802.”

  She took the cards from his hand, thanking him and then gazing up at him.

  Big mistake.

  His hat was lifted now and his eyes were on her.

  They were sparkling somehow, as if they were pure liquid set in stone on his face.

  These hot, green pools of desire… frozen in space.

  She wanted to dive into them, swim in them… get lost in them.

  “Saturday,” she heard from behind. “Elevator’s here.”

  She had almost forgotten about her mother back there.

  She smiled weakly at him, spinning towards the elevators when he called out quietly.

  “I’m in room 808.” He waited for her to face him. “If you need me…”

  He purposely let the statement linger, no further implication needed to stress the point that his eyes were so clearly making.

  When Saturday reached the elevator, her mother was in it, holding the doors open.

  “He’s nice,” she said when Saturday stepped in. “Who is he?”

  “I’m not sure just yet,” Saturday mused as the doors closed. “But I intend to find out… soon.”

  Chapter Eight

  What the Heart Wants

  Saturday sat up straight in her hotel bed, listening closely to her mother’s loud breathing.

  Karen Blake was asleep on her own mattress, but her daughter sure wasn’t.

  Karen tended to take deep gulps of air during her slumber, making noises that weren’t quite guttural enough to be snores, but echoed way too loudly to be sufferable.

  Saturday rolled over in large pink t-shirt, watching her mother’s face… thinking.

  Mark is here… in his bed… just down the hall.

  She bit her lip in frustration, pondering all of the possible consequences.

  She may never get another shot like this: this…rare chance to be so alone with him.

  I have to know.

  She placed a foot on the ground, testing the bedsprings to make sure they were soundless.

  She swung the other foot to the floor, standing up slowly as to not wake her mother.

  She paused when the bed creaked.

  With no reaction from her mom, Saturday took tiny steps on her tippy toes, easing gently across the room before reaching for the door and shutting it silently behind her.

  She took a deep breath once outside, smoothing out her loose, long hair.

  With as much nerve as she could gather, she made the move she’d been dreading, walking lightly across the russet-colored carpet until she stood in front of the door to Mark’s room.

  She knocked lightly on the engraved wood, unable to keep still as she waited for an answer.

  Trepidation merged with excitement, creating a potion that coursed thickly through her veins, pumping hard into her pounding heart.

  Her tongue felt numb.

  Her fingertips were tingling.

  If she waited one more moment, she was almost sure she would explode.

  And then Mark opened the door, his emerald eyes intense and expectant as they skimmed her shape.

  And despite the trembling of her lips, Saturday somehow managed to form words.

  “Hi,” was all she said.

  “Hi,” he answered similarly.

  They glared at each other then, not saying a word… barely breathing.

  One second turned into five.

  Five stretched into a millennium: every blink a century spent.

  Time stood still… and space knew no dimension.

  They drifted together unknowingly, finding themselves standing breast-to-breast, toe-to-toe across the threshold.

  The raw magnetism drove them closer, making resistance undesirable… and damn near impossible.

  A hard blink broke Mark from the reverie and he stepped backward, allowing Saturday to make her way in.

  A t-shirt-clad Saturday strode past a half-naked Mark.

  She sighed heavily at the sight of him.

  She could still smell his earlier “cologne”: that potent mix of soap and leather combined with the natural fragrance of his skin.

  The central heat in the room was warm and gusty, blowing steadily through Mark’s wild hair, surrounding Saturday with his scent.

  The aroma: faint.

  Its effect: powerful.

  She was but a woman possessed: mystified and enchanted by this now lime-eyed sorcerer.

  They both strode over to the California King, neither making a move to turn on the lights.

  Using what little glow emanated from the moon and street, they moved closer to the suite’s center, with Mark’s guiding hand on the small of her back.

  The touch was familiar, the gesture uniquely him.

  Even when they didn’t know what to say, they still knew how to touch each other, falling effortlessly into a routine that belonged to them alone.

  When she sat on the gigantic bed, Mark sat beside her… in nothing but his black boxer briefs… looking every bit of a fantasy come true.

  But this isn’t a fairytale. And from what I can remember from those stories… the villain can just as easily masquerade as the prince.

  She raised her chin, trying to harden her resolve against him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  He glared pensively at her for seconds before responding.

  He knew what she wanted.

  “I wasn’t ready… in the beginning. I saw you… with my painting at the Clairvoyage exhibit. I panicked,” he uttered, shaking his head with regret.

  “I never reveal my identity… to anyone. But after that, then I really felt I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to tell you… what to say.”

  “But your cousin, Jonathan, said…” she began.

  “Jonathan said what?” he asked, his eyes turning into slits. “Never mind. I can imagine what he said.

  “Saturday… Jonathan has no idea who I am. And that’s the way I plan on keeping it.”

  “Your parents…?” she probed softly.

  “They know.”

  “Well, what about all of those calls? The ever-present ringing phone at your hip?”

  He sighed. “My agent… lawyer… assistant… publicist… also known as Joshua. We had a huge exhibit coming up last December. There’s always some exhibit… some show. It’s a never-ending wheel… but I love it. Just like you love it.”

  She fell silent at his response, contemplating her next words.

  Her legs shook with nervous tension.

  Now, for the $1,000,000 question…

  She looked into his eyes, her stare hard and resolute.

  “Why do you have pictures of me?” she inquired.

  Mark sighed, hanging his head. “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, then, I guess you’d better get started.”

  He paused, exhaling soundly. He looked back up at Saturday’s face.

  “You once asked me if I was a photographer. I’m not… professionally. By hobby? Yes.

  “The first time I ever saw you was by chance. I was wandering down a side street on my way home from some event. I looked up. Saw you.

  “Dancing in a window in some…oversized t-shirt.” He smirked.

  “That night, you looked… free. And I was in the
greatest slump of my life. I had no inspiration, no will. Just floating through life. And then there you were… and you seemed to have such an appetite for life.

  “I took a picture of you. Then I just kept snapping. I’m a people-watcher… I like to take candids. Something about you, though…I just couldn’t turn away. I never thought I’d see you again.” Mark shook his head, perplexed.

  “But after that night, you kept reappearing. First, at the window…then working at the gallery. Something seemed to bring me to you. Maybe fate… or the universe… God… whatever you’d call it. I thought about avoiding you.

  “But I couldn’t. After seeing you at the marketplace, I came back to the gallery to find you.”

  Saturday settled more comfortably on the bed, breathing easier.

  A breakthrough… finally.

  But it wasn’t over…

  She continued.

  “So, what the doctor said…”

  She hesitated, her voice shrinking with each breath.

  “It’s all true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “About the photography… the… the voyeurism… all of it?”

  “Yes.” He glared penetratingly at her.

  “And what you’re saying is… you derived pleasure from it? Sexual pleasure…”

  It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation…and Saturday already knew the answer.

  He blinked once. “Yes.”

  At his words, something in Saturday cracked, and a simultaneous sob and scream collided in her throat.

  What the hell do you say to something like this?

  It was a shit-storm of a predicament: a bizarre nightmare come true.

  On the one hand, he had been a young and naïve kid when this had all taken place: an emotional and physical infant compared to the fully-grown man he was now.

  He was different now, the doctor said: changed.

  But… on the other hand… he had omitted the truth about who he was. He had closed doors when they should have been opened: locked secrets when they should have been shared.

  She was in an emotional tug-of-war that left love tussling with logic in a bloody battle that took no prisoners.

  And what exactly do you say…when the flavor of fear is on your tongue and the warmth of lust sits on your lips? When your head says run, but your heart plants your feet?

  Before Saturday could find the will within herself to react, Mark had already repositioned himself on the bed, his muscles bunching as he slid closer.

  With his dark hair falling onto his brow, he looked just the way he made her feel: menacing…and darkly enticing.

  “Daisy… listen to me. I was a kid when all of this happened. I let a hobby turn into an obsession. I let the obsession turn into a perversion.

  “I’m not that 16-year-old boy anymore. And I just…had to make sure.

  “Make sure that he was gone. Make sure that that little boy had grown up. And now with the help of Dr. Walt, I know that he has.

  “That’s why I left in the middle of the night. That’s why I disappeared for months. I needed to be certain.

  “I needed to know that I hadn’t blurred the line when it came to you: that I hadn’t let my photography become something it was never meant to be.

  “Something dark… and twisted.

  “Now, I know… that there isn’t a damn thing dark or twisted about what I feel for you.”

  He shifted nearer once more, moving directly into the light of the moon.

  With no other light in the dimly lit room, his face was illuminated from out of the shadows, and Saturday found herself staring into two glittering green diamonds.

  “I know it’s not right to ask you to stay with me… not tonight… or any other night, for that matter… but I want to share tonight with you.

  “Because… after tonight, after all of this…” he smiled sadly, “you may decide to never see me again.”

  Saturday didn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything.

  He just may have been right.

  It was too soon to tell.

  She paused for a while, chewing over his request.

  She answered him… by pulling back the covers and sliding beneath them.

  He stood abruptly, rounding the bed, before coming to the other side to lie beside her.

  And when they had both nestled comfortably… Saturday reached for his hand, and they held each other’s until sleep finally overtook them.

  ***

  When Saturday awoke, it was the middle of the night.

  Her stupid phone had buzzed in her front shirt pocket with a late text from Kara, inquiring about Saturday’s dad.

  Saturday responded quickly, jokingly reminding Kara of the impossibly late hour, before sitting the phone on the nightstand.

  A deep inhalation from the bed dropped the smirk from her lips.

  Mark was asleep beside her, one arm thrown protectively around her waist as he dozed.

  Her eyes skimmed over his tall and muscular frame, taking unwritten notes as they mentally caressed the line of him.

  He was the type of man that made no noise while he slept, breathing calmly in and out while his mind was at rest.

  She envied his sense of peace, his unbothered reserve.

  She was a fitful sleeper, a light sleeper: one who woke up at any moment’s notice. Any small trigger could disrupt her pattern, making it that much harder to get shut-eye when she lay back down again.

  The last time she slept soundly… was in his arms. Every time she dozed off near him, she became relaxed, all tension leaving her body the second he pulled her into his hold.

  Even now. If it weren’t for the buzzing across her breast, she’d still be unconscious, snuggled warmly in a tall, dark and bearded embrace.

  She stared at him from where she sat, wondering if she should just run while she still had a chance: a quickly fleeting choice not to be swallowed wholly into him again.

  She reached out to brush the hair from his face.

  He spoke from where he laid, eyes still closed, startling Saturday.

  “I’m not asleep,” he mumbled muzzily. “My eyes are just taking a break.” A slow smile spread across his handsome face at his own joke, causing Saturday to do the same.

  “Was it Jay?” he inquired, referring to the text.

  “He’s a good friend,” he yawned, not waiting for her answer. “He left the hotel that one day after a lot of convincing from Josh and I. He even threatened me,” he declared, grinning widely.

  “He what?”

  “Yeah,” Mark responded, shaking his head. “About ten times in the lobby. Then he called the room phone while you were asleep and issued a few more warnings.”

  He looked into Saturday’s barely collected face before they burst into simultaneous laughter. His laughter was deep and contained: hers, snorting and high-pitched, as the hilarity of the situation stole their breath.

  Just the thought of her non-violent, beanpole of a gay boyfriend threatening Mark with bodily harm was more than Saturday’s little heart could take.

  Every time she began to gain composure, she would break out in chortles again, eliciting a small smile on Mark’s face.

  It feels so good to just laugh again.

  For the past month, there hadn’t been much to laugh about.

  There wasn’t a thing funny about what was going on with her dad, and her indecision about Mark had kept a golf-ball sized knot of anxiety in her stomach for days on end.

  As their chuckling subsided, however, Mark’s expression turned thoughtful, focusing intently on Saturday’s face, and she could feel the invisible shift in the air.

  Playtime is clearly over.

  And he was already back to being severe, back to maintaining his Mr. Boss cool.

  And this time… so was she.

  She decided to drive the conversation back on course.

  Just one final question… and then I need to leave.

  She crossed her arms under her bre
asts.

  “Mark…why are you being so open with me now?”

  She could see him inhale as she asked it, the surprise showing on his usually stoic face.

  He looked down at the floor, seemingly pondering the answer to the question. Saturday could barely breathe as she waited for it.

  Suddenly, he glanced back up at her honey eyes. His stare was resolute.

  “Because, Saturday…

  “Because… I can’t afford to lose you. You’re the best and most unexpected thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  His eyes burned with an emerald fire, conveying every ounce of emotion that he had ever held back from her.

  She knew instantly that his announcement wasn’t a ploy, some low-lying scheme to win her over.

  There was no masking what he just expressed. His beautiful voice sounded with earnest intent.

  His irises, his face… his entire body: all poised in strong sincerity, giving her everything from him she had previously found lacking, leaving her wanting for nothing.

  These weren’t just pretty, little, appeasing words.

  He meant it.

  And now the floodgates were open. Her entire midsection clenched in reaction to his admission.

  She sat there, looking at him with a yearning she once thought she had repressed. Now, it was back in full force, making her body weak and her mind supple to this unending influence he seemed to wield over her.

  Everything about him invited her in: his laugh, his body, his charm.

  On top of that, she had been so careless in her interactions with him lately, so open.

  Too open.

  She had let him take care of her in her weakened state a week ago, and she couldn’t lie. A huge piece of her had taken delight in it all.

  And now, this.

  He had placed his cards out on the table, giving her a piece of himself.

  But she didn’t know if it was enough.

  Was it too late? Too late to let him back in when she had worked so goddamn hard to keep him out of her life and away from her heart?

  She didn’t know.

  All she knew was that now (right now) she had to go... because if she did not, she would become a slave to his whim again, submitting herself to his will, questions unasked. And honestly… her heart couldn’t afford another blow.

  Before, it had just cracked; this time, it would shatter.