Embrace

by S. Layne

  But there’s still the lack of trust, the wondering, and as I sit on the blanket with a picnic lunch that I prepared for him because he’s meeting me any moment, my fingers are wrapped tightly around a manila envelope that I have to give to him.

  It shows him I’m serious.

  It shows him that what we have—what I’ve learned we have—is truly enough to fight for, even though in my dreams during the night and my daydreams during the day...I still remember.

  I still feel the pain.

  It won’t go away soon, but I can only try to figure out a way to love him while still being hurt by him—while at the same time hoping that someday the pain diminishes.

  “There you are,” James says, catching me by surprise and snapping me out of my wanderings.

  I slide my feet under me, bringing myself to my knees as he crouches down on the blanket in front of me.

  “Hey, how was your morning?”

  He leans in, and brushes a kiss over my lips. His hand lingers at the back of my neck, making my pulse flutter.

  “Better now.” He sighs and sits next to me. He’s shed his suit coat and his tie, loosened the first couple of buttons on his dress shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. He’s even removed his dress shoes and socks for our afternoon lunch, and sets them on the blanket next to me. “It’s hot out here.”

  My eyes roam the shore. It really is today.

  “Sorry,” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and shrugging. “I didn’t think it’d be so bad.” But I put the blanket in the shade to help, knowing he’d be coming from work.

  I just wanted a quiet place to be together.

  “I’m not complaining,” he replies and leans in, taking another kiss.

  I give it freely, opening my mouth to him and loving how my body responds to the feel of his tongue sliding into my mouth.

  I flush, feeling my body warm, and place my palms on the sides of his neck, holding him to me.

  “This was a great idea,” he whispers against my lips when he pulls away.

  I smile against him. “I’m glad you could join me.”

  “Anytime.” He smiles like he means it, and I wonder why we’ve never done this before. It’s not like we could never sneak away from work for an hour to meet. Denton is small. Everything is close. I push the small niggle of what-we-should-have-done out of my head to enjoy the moment.

  James sighs and leans back, sitting down.

  “You look stressed.”

  He does. There are lines around his eyes and I can’t help but ask.

  He drags a hand through his hair, pulling his eyes off mine, and looks at the lake. “Work sucks right now. A new case is just driving me mad.”

  I’m silent, waiting for him to continue, but after several moments he shakes off whatever is troubling him and reaches for the basket I brought.

  It’s lunch from Panera—nothing special, but I couldn’t get anything warm.

  “Champagne?” he asks, lifting the lid and seeing the bottle inside. He lifts a curious brow and his lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Are we celebrating something? It’s not your birthday—or mine…”

  His teasing voice drops when I smile.

  “We are,” I say, but point toward the food. “But food first.”

  He shoots me a look, telling me he’s intrigued, but lets it go. “I’ll pop the champagne, then, for the not-yet-mentioned celebration, and you dish out the food.”

  I do as he says, and in minutes we have a delicious feast spread in front of us. The chilled champagne I was able to keep cool in a backpack cooler bubbles on my tongue and in my mouth as I take the first sip.

  “This is nice,” I say between bites of food, my drink, and enjoying the fresh air. “I like being with you.”

  He laughs, like it’s the silliest thing I’ve ever said. But it’s true: I just enjoy being with James.

  He licks his lips, catching a drop of mustard from his sandwich, and shakes his head. His black hair brushes back and forth with the motion and I fight the urge to run my fingers through it.

  I love his longer hair and I’ve convinced him to keep it that way for now.

  I think he only agreed because he likes when I pull on it when we’re making love.

  A brief memory of me doing that last night while he was between my thighs, driving me crazy, flashes through my mind.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, giving me a sly smile. “You just went somewhere else.”

  His warm hand brushes against my inner leg, just above my knee, and I shiver. My cheeks heat.

  “Last night,” I whisper, licking my lips. I’m honest because we’ve decided it’s necessary that we always are—over everything, even little things.

  “Last night?” His voice drops, huskier, and a sparkling glint dances in his eyes. His thumb brushes the sensitive skin of my leg, moving higher. “What about last night?”

  Goose bumps burst on my skin.

  “You know.” My voice turns shy and so does my smile.

  He moves closer, leaning in until his lips ghost across my collarbone. “Tell me, my memory is fuzzy.”

  I laugh nervously, which is silly but true.

  “Are you remembering being on the couch, your legs spread open for me, as I tasted you?” His hand moves on my leg—farther up, close to the apex of my thighs, and I tremble when his thumb brushes against my panties. “Are you remembering the way you came for me? So hard, Laurie. It was so good.”

  “God, James.” I’m panting. My head falls back and I close my eyes. The sensations of the sun on my skin, the breeze in my hair, and his thumb brushing against my already damp panties, are delicious.

  “I love making you come apart for me like that. Love it when you lose yourself in me.”

  His thumb slides beneath my panties and I arch into him.

  My eyes snap open and I can’t believe we’re doing this. That he’s doing this. We’re in public, in front of hundreds of people, and yet I know by the way we’re sitting, we simply look like lovers necking.

  I choke as his thumb brushes against my clit.

  “So wet for me already. Is this what we’re celebrating today? Me and the way I make you feel?”

  I’m breathless, my cheeks hot. I’m embarrassed and needy. Terrified of getting caught but too turned on to stop him.

  My hand reaches out and grips his knee. I squeeze, warning him to stop.

  “Partly,” I breathe on a whimper.

  My body is on fire. Suddenly all I can think about is the way his thumb is pressing against my sensitive area. I feel myself pulse beneath him. My need grows stronger.

  His lips graze the skin behind my ear. “Come for me, Laurie. Do it quietly, but God you’re so beautiful when you fall apart from my touch. I want to see it.”

  My lips part, my breath coming in harsh, quiet pants as he continues his ministrations.

  My whimpers are quiet but intense, and my abs tighten, shaking. His fingers press into my inner thigh, holding me open.

  I can’t believe we’re doing this.

  “James,” I say, gasping for breath. I open my eyes, meeting his gaze as his lips brush against mine.

  “Let me see it, honey.”

  It’s my undoing, his quiet plea, his need for me.

  “God,” I gasp and then his mouth is on mine, slowly teasing kisses that drive me absolutely insane as he applies more pressure. “I’m coming.”

  “Do it,” he whispers.

  And I do. My body silently but powerfully shakes and trembles as he rocks my world, just yards from families and couples, and no one is the wiser as my orgasm rolls through me, making me shake and quiver under James’s knowing touch.

  “Fuck.” He pulls back and smiles, kissing me once before his thumb slides from my panties and the bottom of my dress. “Damn, am I glad you wore a dress today.”

  I laugh quietly, brushing the dress down my legs.

  James sticks his thumb into his mouth, sucking the taste of me off him, and I
watch, eyes wide open in shock.

  “I can’t believe we just did that.” Suddenly self-conscious, I glance around, but no one seems to be paying us any attention.

  “It was beautiful. You are beautiful.”

  I blush at the sincere compliment and reach for my glass of champagne next to me, needing to cool down.

  It’s sitting on the envelope I brought, and if there wasn’t a more perfect time to hand it to James, I don’t know what it would be.

  “Here,” I say, and pick up the envelope. I take my champagne glass in one hand and watch his brows pinch together.

  He looks at me suspiciously when he sees the address on the envelope. Licking his lips, he opens his clasp and glances at me. “What is it?”

  I nod toward the envelope. “Just open it.”

  He does, and I almost feel wretched for making him so uneasy.

  “Our sixty days was almost up,” I say quickly while he pulls out the papers. The papers I’ve torn in half. “I went to see Mr. Hampshire today and told him I was canceling everything. I wanted you to have the proof of it.”

  Because in the envelope, among the torn papers, is a letter stating that the plaintiff—in this case, me—has called a halt to the dissolution proceedings, citing reconciliation as the reason.

  Basically, among the legal jargon that I know James will understand far better than me, it says I’ve canceled the divorce.

  His eyes glisten, wet drops on his thick, black lashes when he finally lifts his gaze to meet mine.

  A lump forms in my chest, seeing him so emotional.

  He lifts the envelope. “You did this?”

  I nod. “Today.”

  He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe I’ve done this.

  “I’ve wondered,” he says, swallowing slowly. “I hadn’t signed. I never did. But I didn’t know…” He stops, catches his breath, and as a tear drops down his cheek, my own are quickly wet from tears, too. “I didn’t really know what you were thinking, if you were still wanting…or debating.”

  “I’m not.” I’m adamant. “I’m not debating. Not now. I’m trying and it hurts a lot, James, it really does. I can’t lie about that. And I know I’ve made my own poor decisions that I can’t even fully blame on that pain, but I want this.”

  I clamor for him, rising to my knees until I’m in his lap, straddling him. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

  He drops the papers, his palms mold to my cheeks, and then his lips are on mine. Forcefully.

  I part for him instantly and our breaths and tongues are mingled together.

  “God, I fucking love you,” he says, pulling away. His eyes are intense. Full of passion.

  Full of thankfulness.

  “I love you, too.”

  “I want you,” he says, and the firmness quickly growing beneath me tells me he really does—in more ways than one. “Now.”

  I laugh. “We can’t.”

  “We sure as hell can—my car’s down the street.”

  I stare at him, shocked and incredulous. He can’t be serious.

  But he’s pulling me to my feet, throwing our trash and leftover champagne into the nearest garbage can, and tossing me the blanket. I throw it over my shoulder as he pulls me to where his car is in a parking garage.

  And then he shows me exactly how serious is.

  James and I walk hand in hand down the boardwalk. The sun is setting and it’s a beautiful night out—one I’m thankful for after another long, but not as difficult, session.

  Three months ago, if someone would have told me I’d be giving James another chance, I would have laughed in their face.

  But after tonight, I know, despite the difficulties, I have made the right decision.

  At least for me.

  His hand is warm in mine and we’ve been quiet since leaving Elissa’s office and James suggested a walk to clear our heads.

  “What do you think?” he asks suddenly, his voice quiet and timid.

  I know what he’s referring to—something Elissa suggested and I’m still uncertain of.

  A new start.

  We spent much of the session talking about our jobs. How I’m frustrated with lack of direction. James is unhappy working at his firm. He wants something smaller, something more personal.

  I want…something.

  “I worry that changing and making everything new might only be avoiding what needs to be dealt with,” I say honestly.

  He makes a humming sound. I don’t know if it’s agreement or not, but we continue walking until we reach the marina.

  Boats fill the slips, some of which are empty, indicating the boats are out on Lake Michigan for the night. Or the weekend.

  I sigh at the thought—the open water at night, sleeping on a boat gently rocking over the waves. I’ve always wanted to experience it. I’ve looked longingly at boats at night on the water, just a flicker of their yellow lights against the blackness of the water once the sun sets to indicate where they are so they don’t get hit by ships and barges.

  “Do you think we can stay here, though? Risk running into Becky, me going to work, you constantly wondering?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Some days, I think maybe.

  Others, I’m certain: hell to the fuck, no.

  And in a town as small as Denton, it’s quite possibly a miracle I haven’t run into her yet. It’s not like we run in separate circles.

  But our life is here. Our home is here. It doesn’t make it easy to do much else, either.

  The weight of being trapped makes my chest tighten.

  “Enough of that,” he says suddenly and pulls me toward the marina’s entrance. “Come with me.”

  I shoot him a curious look but follow—mostly because my hand is in his and he’s pulling me along.

  “What are we doing?”

  He flashes me a grin, mischievous and sexy all at the same time, and my heart flips.

  God, I love that even in our uncertainty I can still read him. It gives me hope that we can better understand one another in the future—especially with some of the ideas we discussed at counseling tonight. Patience. Openness. Brutal honesty.

  I feel like we’ve already begun doing these things.

  “Trust me,” he says wickedly, but there’s a bounce in his step that makes me not want to take the statement seriously.

  “All right.”

  He licks his lips, then pulls me to him until his hand is around my waist. He leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Thank you.”

  We don’t mean it in the biggest sense of the word trust.

  But maybe small amounts of trust will pave the way toward getting us there, someday.

  I want to be right.

  With his hand on my hip, he guides us down a wooden dock. It creaks beneath our weight and I listen as the boats that are in their slips gently rock in the water, banging against the buoys keeping them safe from hitting the dock.

  It’s relaxing, and I feel the stress from our conversation minutes ago evaporate into the cool night air.

  “How’s your mom?” James asks, and I laugh, looking at him. He’s distracting me, and I don’t know why. My curiosity is piqued.

  “Fine.” The word drawls from my lips slowly. “My dad’s going back to work Monday and I think everyone will be happier once that happens.”

  James laughs, deep and husky and full of easiness.

  I love it.

  We walk, winding our way down the maze of slips and docks until he pulls me to an abrupt stop.

  “Here we go.” He waves his arm out.

  In front of me is an enormous boat. On the back, the words Midnight Love are scrawled in elegant black ink.

  I frown and look up at him, my face scrunched. “What?”

  James’s smile widens. “Up you go.”

  My head snaps back. I stare at the small dock that helps you step on without risk of falling into the water, then back at James.

  His lips are pressed together,
his shoulders shaking slightly. He’s fighting a laugh and a smile.

  I chuckle. “What are you doing?”

  His eyebrows wiggle. “Giving you something you’ve always wanted.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to steal a boat. Or trespass.”

  “Not even for a night?” he asks, nudging me forward. “You’ve never wanted to be on a boat, at night, in middle of Lake Michigan.”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Then get on.” He pushes me gently until I’m forced to step onto the small dock. It wobbles slightly and I’m thankful for his hands on my hips, guiding me forward.

  “Who owns this?”

  “My boss, Jensen Rhodes.”

  He’s the main partner at James’s law firm. Suddenly, the elegance of the boat and the size make sense. Jensen Rhodes is a single man who enjoys finer things. I’ve always seen him as standoffish. A bit rough around the edges. He’s too controlled at all times for me to ever find him enjoyable. It’s most likely what makes him a wicked sharp attorney.

  He’s also not that much older than we are, and crazy handsome.

  “Come on,” James says, prodding me forward until I step onto a bench along the back of the boat.

  In front of me there is a small ladder that leads up to where I see the boat’s huge steering wheel, and then a narrow door in the middle that leads down. It’s dark, unlit, and my nerves begin tingling down my spine.

  “Stop being afraid. He’s loaned it to us for the night.”

  “He did?”

  I’m stunned. He doesn’t seem like a man who likes to share any of his toys.

  “What’d you have to promise him?”

  “Nothing.” James shrugs and walks onto the boat like it’s actually his. His ability to take ownership of anything he touches, or at least the perception of ownership, is sexy. “Just begged for a favor for my girl.”

  I flush at the silly compliment and the sweetness of it. “Well, then, who am I to decline?”

  James smiles wide. It stretches from ear to ear and lights up his entire face.

  “Might as well give me a tour,” I say, my own smile widening.

  I can’t believe he’s done this for me.

  I follow him up the stairs to a small landing. He tells me the boat is forty feet, not huge by yacht standards, but it has everything on board we need. Up top is a small deck, where tomorrow I can lie down and get some sun—or tonight we can watch the stars.