Embrace

by S. Layne

  “Tell me what you thought about when you got yourself off this morning.”

  My head jerks back as James pulls away, a smug grin all over his face that I want to erase.

  The question is blunt and makes my head spin until I realize this is us. We learned about sex together. We fumbled our way through acting out horrible porn films and giggling our way through aisles in sex toy stores. We’ve always been honest and forced each other to talk about what we wanted.

  His bluntness shouldn’t make my skin flush, but I still find myself looking away from him, down to his hands that have dropped to my hips.

  He shifts, lifts up on his knees, and tugs on my hips so I slide beneath him. “Tell me.”

  My lips twitch as I remember.

  I can’t tell him this, but even as I debate it, James begins trailing his hand across my lower abdomen, lightly brushing and lifting my shirt until there’s a small expanse of skin exposed.

  His fingertip trails a circle around my bellybutton and my hips arch at the same time my stomach muscles constrict.

  “I can tease it out of you.” His eyes crinkle at the edges.

  I lick my lips and watch as he drops his gaze to where his hand is teasing my stomach. His fingers trail along the waistband of the simple cotton skirt I bought at the store today. As he dips his fingertip beneath the waistband, my breath hitches at the way my hand trailed a similar path this morning, pretending it was James’s very hands doing the same thing he’s doing right now.

  “You were with me,” I say, quickly but quietly. His touch is burning my brain, erasing the voice that screams proceed with caution.

  His eyes meet mine and my breath catches when I see the lustful look in his eyes. “And?”

  I shake my head. I can’t believe he’s pulling this out of me. I can’t believe I’m willing to tell him all of this. Instead of being embarrassed, I swallow my fear and widen my knees, giving him better access to where I want him.

  “I was in the shower and you joined me, dropped to your knees, threw one of my legs over your shoulder, and you ate me until I screamed your name and pulled your hair.”

  “Jesus, Laurie.” His head falls and his hand stops moving.

  For a moment I fear I’ve gone too far, but then James shifts his weight and does exactly what I envisioned him doing this morning.

  Sliding to his knees in front of me on the couch, he looks at me with a grin. It’s heated but playful and I can’t help but smile back. He pulls on my legs, turning me until I’m spread out before him, my butt near the edge of the couch. “Warn a man before you just throw that out there.”

  “You wanted to hear it.”

  “I do.” He nods. “I want the truth. Always.”

  His eyes say more than his words. I can’t help but agree, except my voice is tighter, colder. “I do, too.”

  Regret flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away. I allow it, because with him so close to me, the last thing I want to do is to go back—even if we’re not moving forward.

  We’re spinning in circles, but as his eyes drop to my knees, his hands begin brushing up my thighs, and as he pushes my legs wide open, I know the spinning has only just begun.

  “Tell me you want this,” he murmurs. I shouldn’t. “I do.”

  With my head against the back of the couch, a memory of us making out on this very couch as teenagers flashes through my mind.

  It’s gone as soon as James pushes his hands further up my thighs and his thumbs tease the seam of my panties, close to my heated, wet flesh. I gasp, arching my hips and dying for the friction he’s so close to giving.

  “Do you want to know what I thought about this morning?”

  I don’t. I really don’t want to know what James saw. I shake my head and his lips curve into a sad smile.

  He leans forward, brushing his lips along my inner thigh. Then he lifts my leg over his shoulder and drags his lips down my skin, grazing that area on the back of my knee that drives me insane.

  “James,” I whisper. My voice is soft and thready.

  There’s fear in my eyes when he locks his gaze on mine. As if he wants to calm me, remind me that this is just for tonight, he pulls away, running his hand along the length of my leg.

  “I jacked off to the very same thing,” he says, and his voice grows tight. “On my knees in front of you. Apologizing. Making it up to you in any way I can. Tasting you. Making you scream my name.” His hand twitches on my thigh, and he licks his lips. His dark brown eyes dilate further.

  He looks like the handsome, dark-haired man I’ve loved for so long, but firmer. More defined and a little bit rougher. I can’t help the way desire for this man floods my veins, making me desperate for him.

  I don’t say anything when he pushes his hands up to the hem of my skirt and begins pulling it down.

  “Let me do this for you.”

  This isn’t an apology. It’s a diversion from reality—one I need—and I acquiesce, relaxing into his hold and giving him my silent submission.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His eyes reverently trail on my skin, quickly returning to my pink folds that are swollen and wet, clenching with a frenzied need to be satisfied.

  My hands drop to James’s head and I rake my hands through his hair. It’s so soft—longer than it should be and curling at the edges over his ears. I tug on it, gaining his attention.

  “If it was simple and didn’t hurt so much, forgiving you wouldn’t be so hard.”

  It’s the closest truth I’ve told him and I almost break into tears when he turns his head, kissing the inside of my wrist and closing his eyes. James breathes in a shaky inhale and his fingers tighten on my legs.

  When he pulls away, our eyes meet in silent understanding.

  “No more talking,” he murmurs against my skin, and I press my lips together.

  It only lasts for a moment, because as soon as James’s lips fall to my center I release a groan, knowing the pleasure that is sure to come.

  My entire body shivers as his tongue slides along my folds. It circles my clit, teasing and pulling at the nub until my hips are thrusting into his hands and he’s pushing me back against the couch.

  “James,” I cry, my hand gripping his hair.

  His assault is erotic, sending fire through my nerves and inciting a craving in me.

  I need… “More,” I whisper.

  He laughs against my skin, sucking me into his mouth as his finger begins to push inside me. “So wet…so impatient, just like always. God, I love the way you taste and feel. The way you go for exactly what you want.” His eyes rise and meet mine. Rimmed with thick, dark lashes, his eyes might be the sexiest I’ve ever seen in my life. The way they look hazy with a greedy hunger for me makes my stomach drop and flip.

  “More,” I tell him again, arching into him.

  Without removing his eyes from mine, he drops his head and slides his tongue over my clit, flicking it and pressing down until my body thrums with desire. His finger moves inside me, pressing and pulling until I feel him stretch me further by adding another finger.

  They twist inside, hitting the nerves, rubbing against the perfect spot. Longing for more, my body spasms. I shift to get away from the dual sensations that scream pleasure awaits me and arch into him, demanding more of it.

  It’s too much and not enough.

  My hand falls from his shoulder and I squeeze, gaining his attention and looking him straight in the eye.

  “I want you.” It takes every ounce of courage to be this honest, even if it’s a sex-filled hazy lust that’s overtaken my rational side.

  James smiles wickedly, pulling his fingers from my pussy and replacing them with his tongue. When he pulls out, my body aches. “Not tonight. I won’t be inside you again until you’re mine.”

  I always have been, I think, with anger fluttering at the edges of my mind. It was him who stopped being mine.

  “Ahhh!” I cry out as he sinks his teeth into my inner thigh.

  “D
on’t think. Not tonight.”

  I lose the ability to do just that when his tongue presses inside me. The slick sounds of wet flesh and our groans begin filling the room.

  I’m close to the edge, but too far away when James slides his hand to my clit. His thumb pinches and pulls and I arch, panting his name over and over again as my orgasm heats my sides.

  Pleasure slides to my hips and then, as if it’s on a direct line with James, everything tightens as he presses against my clit. It’s painful and pleasurable and as he twists my nub, everything explodes.

  “James!”

  His tongue continues fucking me. I feel my insides clamp around him, clenching and pulsing wildly as he wrings pleasure from me. Light explodes behind my lids as my body continues humming, vibrating with pleasure, and then it happens all over again.

  “That’s it,” James croons, pulling his tongue from my pussy and licking my clit over and over. “One more.”

  I give it to him and I’m thrashing on the couch, his hands holding me open, and he continues licking and sucking until I collapse, sinking into the couch, completely listless.

  My brain has become mush.

  My body liquid.

  And as James makes one long, last swipe of his tongue against my swollen, sensitive flesh, I wiggle away from him.

  “Too much,” I mutter, my tongue and everything in my body feeling useless and numb.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and I can feel the weight of his body climbing over me.

  His arms brace outside my shoulders and my eyes fly open when I feel him settle his hips in between mine.

  His erection is hard against my pussy as he rolls his hips.

  A part of me feels regret that I didn’t finish him off.

  Then I remember what he spoke.

  Before I can speak, reminding him of what he said, James leans down and brushes his lips against mine. I get a brief taste of me all over him before he licks his lips.

  Knowing that he tastes me again, all over himself, makes my eyes fall to his lips. I watch as he licks me off him.

  “You have always been, and always will be, the most beautiful and sexy woman I’ve ever known.”

  His lips press against mine and then they’re gone. It’s another hit-and-run kiss before he pushes himself off me, gone before I can force my limbs to work and pull him back.

  He disappears, his footsteps quick on the stairs, and I almost smile when I hear a door close upstairs and the water for a shower turns on.

  And I know it’s for the best, because I don’t know if I would have pulled him to me…or pushed him away.

  His quick exit leaves my mind blank and my body sated and it’s not until I hear the water turn off that I’m finally able to redress myself.

  I sit downstairs, not paying attention to the movie, partly waiting for James to return—but it’s an hour before I realize he’s not coming back and my eyelids begin to flutter closed.

  On heavy feet I drag myself upstairs, no longer certain if I regret what happened…

  Or if I want it to happen again.

  Morning doesn’t bring clarity to anything. It does, however, make me cranky when I wake up from another dream—one that starred James and his hands and his tongue. I’m tight with an arousal I don’t fully want when I make my way into the kitchen.

  It smells like bacon and I pause briefly in the doorway when I see James standing at the stove, his back facing me. Bacon sizzles and pops in the pan in front of him, but I lose my taste for the meaty treat as I watch his back muscles ripple and pull.

  Watching James without him knowing I’m here makes me relax, and I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, and let my mind wander.

  What is it I want from him?

  I’m not sure I know how to trust him again. I’m not sure I know how to fix what’s broken.

  But the one thing I do know is that James is here. When I needed him, he dropped everything he had going on at work. Based on the phone calls he’s taken and the time he’s spent on the computer, it hasn’t been convenient for him.

  I don’t want to spend more time thinking of him and Becky. I no longer want to think about the night when he betrayed me and the whys and hows of it. I’m not sure it matters. I will never have answers that satisfy my curiosity.

  I’m not sure I can let it go and forgive him for it, either, but him being here tells me he means it when he says he’ll do whatever it takes to make us work.

  Until now, I’m not sure I’ve been able to promise him the same thing.

  He reaches over and grabs a plate covered with paper towels. My feet are moving, being led by my heart before my head can tell me to reconsider.

  I walk up behind him and my hands curl around his biceps. He freezes under my touch, and I roll to my toes, pressing my lips between his shoulder blades.

  “Good morning.” I fall back to my heels and step around him, intent on filling a mug with coffee.

  I hear the clatter of a plate spinning on the counter and his arm is around my waist before I get far.

  He pulls me to his side, and I tilt my head back to look him in his eyes.

  He’s wearing his glasses, something I don’t see him do often, but I like the way they make him look. His hair is messed from sleep and his eyes narrow. A hint of a smile appears on his lips when I relax into his hold.

  “What was that for?”

  I opt for honesty. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He inhales a sharp breath. His head dips down and then his lips are on the top of my head.

  “Thank you.” He squeezes my waist and bumps into me with his hips. “Get some coffee. Bacon and toast are almost ready.”

  I do what I’m told, still uncertain as to what happens now. But as we enjoy our breakfast in a silence that doesn’t carry the weight I’ve become used to feeling around him, I begin to understand my mom and dad’s advice over the last few days.

  It is not easy to look at James and see him how I once did—kind and brave and strong and most of all, honest.

  But somehow, I think it might be possible to see that in him again. Someday.

  I’m ripped out of my wandering, my slow-burning epiphany, by the shrill sound of my phone.

  “I’ll get it,” James says from the kitchen where he’s started washing the dishes.

  I’ve been staring out the window, looking at the backyard and lost in my thoughts, but I notice instantly when the air chills and James places my cell phone in front of me.

  The missed call name and number flashing on my screen stare me in the face.

  There’s no way that James has not seen it.

  His instant spark of jealousy I feel simmering behind me makes me straighten my back.

  “Jealous?” I ask, because I can’t help it. How dare he.

  His lip curls. “Yes.”

  I push my chair back, standing up as I pick up my phone. I owe Liam a return phone call. It could be something going on in the office and I am, technically, still his employee.

  “He’s my boss.” With straight shoulders, I stiffen my spine and glare at James. “Have you spoken to Becky this week?” I lean in before he can answer. “You can’t do this.”

  Both of his hands fly to his hair and he tugs as curses fall from his full lips. “I know that, but it doesn’t mean I like it, either.”

  “I guess we’re even, then, aren’t we?”

  I spin on my heels, intent on leaving, when he reaches out and grabs my hand, stopping me. “Don’t. Don’t leave angry. I get that this is my fuckup. But we were doing okay before this…we were okay this morning, right?”

  Tension falls from my shoulders and parted lips. Shaking my head, I look at him over my shoulder. “I don’t know what we were. Or are.”

  “I know,” he says and huffs. He tugs on my hand again and I turn slowly. “I’m sorry about that, I am. And I know I have to get over that. I just hate the idea of you being with someone else, but I know I have no right to be angry about it ei
ther. I do.”

  His eyes plead for me to understand and I give it to him. Mostly because it’s not an argument we can continue having.

  “I quit,” I tell him, and watch his eyes widen. Pulling my hand out of his grip, I run it through my messy and tangled locks. “I turned in my notice Monday. That’s what I was telling him when you came to pick me up.”

  “You quit?”

  “Yup. It’s a long story, but I can’t work for Liam. Not only because of…that…” I pause. The specifics of my not-so-real-relationship with Liam aren’t important. “But also because my dad bought the company.”

  James’s eyes widen even further, shock colors his cheeks, and he swears. On my behalf, I assume.

  “Anyway,” I say, and wave my hand in the air. I don’t technically owe him these explanations. I’m upset that he gets to see the woman he slept with but feels he has the right to be upset with Liam, who I didn’t even meet until our marriage was essentially over. “I need to get ready for the hospital. Figure out my life. You have fun talking to Becky.”

  I skip away from him before he can stop me, before he can apologize, and before he can continue to explain why she’s still there even if he doesn’t want her.

  I’ve heard enough, and the entire last ten minutes have dissolved any hope…any courage…I had previously found when I saw him cooking bacon earlier.

  The silence in the car on the ride to the hospital is unbearable.

  While I dressed and got ready to leave, I instantly felt like crap for my immature comment about Becky. Whether our marriage is saved or not¸ James knows where and how he screwed up. It doesn’t help anything to continue throwing it in his face.

  I just don’t like that he’s throwing my decisions in mine, either.

  My eyes widen when James pulls up to the hospital entrance instead of into a parking space. I didn’t even realize he wasn’t headed toward for the parking ramp until the car stopped in the circular drive.

  “You’re not going in?” I ask, turning to him.

  It’s only then that I notice he’s dressed in a suit and his hair is perfectly done. He’s even wearing his glasses. Seeing him so perfectly dressed makes my heart flutter and my tummy feel funny. Then I realize he’s been like this the entire drive and I’m only just noticing.