Love Me Like That

by Marie James

  “I’ll get you more wood up here for the fireplace, but I was able to get the generators going. We should be good on power now.” He stands from the side of the bed; giving me the distance my mind says it needs.

  My body? That traitorous bitch is screaming for him to come right back and climb under the covers with me.

  Married! The hand reaching out for me just a minute ago proved it in the form of a solid platinum band on his ring finger.

  It’s exhausting having to remind myself of that fact, a fact that is so blatantly evident right now as he twists his damn wedding ring on his hand. The act is subconscious like he’s done it for years and doesn’t even realize it.

  “You should have plenty of hot water for a shower.” He turns away from me and begins walking toward the door.

  “Kadin?” My voice is soft and quiet, but he hears me and turns to face my direction, his hand just reaching out for the doorknob. “Last night.” Last night was perfect.

  He remains silent even though I’m hoping he will be the one to finish.

  “Last night was a mistake.” He shows no emotion; once again his face is completely stoic. “I think it was a bad idea.”

  Silence.

  “I don’t think it should happen again.” I hang my head, the blank look on his face making me uncomfortable. “It won’t happen again.”

  He nods and walks out, closing the door softly behind him.

  “You’re the one with the fucking wife,” I mutter in his direction.

  Now that we got that out of the way I hope things don’t have to be awkward, but I know they will. After last night and seeing the tent in the front of his pants less than an hour ago I can’t keep my eyes away from his crotch. Not a good sign of how the next few days of seclusion are going to go.

  I close my eyes and take a calming breath, the faint smell of coffee invading my senses. I cut my eyes to the cup of heaven sitting on the bedside table.

  Would he poison me?

  I release a weak chuckle. You slept with him last night; without protection. My brain reminds me. Now you’re worried about your safety.

  I mentally shut those thoughts down and reach for the cup of steaming liquid. It’s sweet and creamy, just how I like it.

  Perfect.

  Another item to add to the long list of irresistible things about him. Put that right under body like a Greek god and fucks like it’s his job.

  I need something to occupy my mind and as much as I’d love to go for a run and exhaust my body, that’s not an option. I set the half empty cup of coffee back down on the table and get out of the bed.

  I grab my smaller suitcase and roll it behind me into the bathroom. It has all the essentials I’ll need for a long hot shower. Stepping into the bathroom for the second time today, I let my eyes dart between shower and the garden tub that’s tucked away in the corner of the massive bathroom.

  I have nothing but time, so I opt for a long hot bath rather than a shower. I didn’t grab bath salts or oils when I packed my belongings so this will be a plain old bath, but with the tension in my body it will be glorious none the less. Well, this bath will be about as plain as a sunken tub with half a dozen water jets can be.

  Clutching my shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel to my chest with one hand I turn the water on in the tub with the other. I pin my hair back for the time being with a clip from my makeup bag and step gingerly into the water that is steadily filling the tub.

  I lay back and wait for the water to fill as high as possible before it would be considered too deep and would overflow onto the floor. I raise my foot into the stream of soothing yet near scorching water and frown at the condition of my toenail polish. Another thing to add to the list of stuff to get done once I get settled. The first being that visit to a clinic for bloodwork and a full STD panel.

  I only have two things my mind seems to be able to focus on right now. The first being Trent, Keira, and their deceit. The second of course is the adulterer downstairs. Neither being something I want to have to think about right now.

  I try to focus on moving forward and what I’ll do once I leave here. Go to Spokane, find an apartment, and get a job. Seems easy enough. I have a vast array of skills and work experience that will quickly open doors in numerous markets. If I don’t find work right away, that is fine too. I have quite a bit in savings, and that is one thing I’m grateful to Trent for. Had I known I’d be in this situation I never would’ve bought the Mini Cooper.

  As I let the jets of hot water blast over my body my head takes me back to Trent and the years we spent together. Loving, dedicated, and attentive.

  All of it fake. For a brief second, I wonder if I could forgive him. I question whether packing up and just leaving was the right thing to do. If throwing six years of happiness away is the right decision. Then I remember that I’m not throwing anything away. He is responsible for this outcome. My happiness was a lie. My happiness was an illusion that they wanted me to see, not an accurate reflection of how things actually were.

  I stay in the bathtub until the circulating water begins to chill. Praying there’s enough hot water left, I drain the tub and hit the shower to wash and condition my hair. I towel off quickly and wrap a towel around my hair. I slip on panties before making my way out of the bathroom to grab my hair dryer and more clothes from my other suitcase.

  Looking down at the poor condition of my fingernails, a consequence of working in a fast-paced bar the past three months, I hear fuck in a husky voice, causing my eyes to dart up.

  Standing across the room is Kadin with an armful of fire logs. He’d mentioned bringing some wood up, but I had no idea he meant he was going straight down to get it. I also didn’t bother to lock the door behind him when he left earlier.

  I screech at his intrusion and try to hide my exposed body, not missing the sweep of his eyes over my topless form. Whipping off the towel from my head, I do my best to cover my body. He looks confused, standing there glancing from the wood in his arms and back to me, like he doesn’t know what to do with them but feels the need to escape.

  Snapping out of his trance, he quickly gives me his back as he drops the wood into the log holder and turns to the door. “Sorry,” he mutters and shuts the door roughly behind him.

  I don’t know how long I stand in the middle of the room staring at the closed door. So much for thinking the awkwardness would go away. I’m more affected now with him seeing my breasts in the full light of the day sober than I was last night drunken in the dark. Combine that with the bulge that couldn’t be denied in the front of his pants when he turned sideways to leave the room and my head is all mixed up again.

  Sighing, I lock the bedroom door, preventing any further surprises, grab my suitcase and roll it into the bathroom. I’ll keep everything in here until I leave to avoid another ambush by my host.

  With nothing else to do I stay in the room and fix, to the best of my ability, my toenail polish. I wish I could say I just didn’t pack all of my things but hot pink nail polish is all that I own. So that’s what my toes got. Unable to charge my now dead phone since I left the charger in the car, I stand in the bathroom and tap my foot, trying to figure out something else to occupy my time.

  Over the next couple of hours, I’ve painted my toes and fingernails, straightened and then curled my hair, and I’ve even put on a light layer of makeup, which I promptly take back off. Well, mostly. All I had was waterproof mascara, and it’d take an hour to clean my lashes of that mess.

  Just as I climb on the bed to take a nap, my stomach growls reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything all day. As much as I’d love to avoid Kadin, I’m not going to sit in here and starve. I’ll have to make sure to leave him some cash when I leave, repayment for his hospitality and use of his amenities.

  Once in the kitchen, I notice a small note on the counter written in an apparent male hand. Sandwich in the fridge.

  Shocked, I look in the fridge and, sure enough, there’s a sub sandwich on a plate with
chips. I slide the plate off the shelf and look around, thinking he’s lurking in the shadows somewhere watching me take his offering, all the while I’m wondering why he bothered.

  I sit gingerly at the breakfast bar with my prepared meal and eat as slowly as possible, hoping he will show so I can thank him. Honestly, I’d like to have some form of human interaction. I know being around him is asking for trouble, but I’m lonely and not used to spending time with only myself. I need a distraction from my thoughts.

  With a full stomach, thanks to Kadin’s thoughtfulness, I carry the plate to the sink, wash it, and return it to the cabinet with other plates of its kind. He still hasn’t shown. The house is completely silent, and I can’t tell if he’s even inside the house.

  I make my way to the den, stopping by the open door of the mudroom. His boots are in there, but the pile of clothes he discarded earlier is nowhere to be seen. I shrug my shoulders and continue my journey to the den.

  I’ve spent enough time in the room upstairs and can’t stand the thought of going back up there with nothing to do so I park it on the sofa and stare into the fire. The flames are small, and it’s clear that he's not been down here recently to feed it.

  I lay on my side watching the flames and listening to the crackling and popping, doing my best not to think of all the coulda’s, shoulda’s, and woulda’s that are racing through my head. It’s almost an impossible task since the sight of Trent plowing into my best friend from behind is all I see when I close my eyes.

  Her breasts last night in the light of the fire, while she was lying down, were incredible. Standing, in full unobstructed view with the lights on? Without a doubt, no contest, the best set of tits I’ve ever seen: in person, on TV, or in a movie.

  I could tell I shocked her when she came out of the bathroom. Hell, it shocked me that she was topless. I stood there like a statue and just gawked at her perky, pink buds, taking notice that they tightened further under my scrutiny.

  My cock seems to have a mind of its own around her and my attempts to control it have gone unnoticed. I’m sure she noticed my lack of discipline in regards to him. I was in full tent mode by the time I closed her bedroom door behind me, spontaneous erections being a recent rediscovery of my body.

  Did I know she was in the shower? Yes. Did I know she was out of the shower? Yes. Did I slowly go about my business in hopes that I’d see her if even for a brief moment before leaving her room again? Yes. Did I ever, even for a minute, consider the possibility that she’d step out of there without clothes on? Never in a million years. One of her suitcases was gone, and I figured she’d grab clothes out of it already, a happy misconception on my part.

  Then I think about the words she muttered to herself as I left the room earlier. You’re the one with a fucking wife.

  This is coming right on the heels of her shutting down any notion that I might have had about a repeat performance. I can accept that she feels like last night was a mistake. Hell, I felt exactly the same way when I climbed out from under her just a few short hours ago. Hearing it from a mouth surrounded by completely fuckable lips? Depressing.

  What else besides fucking like rabbits is there to do for the next couple of days? You could take a long hike outside without any desire to make it back alive.

  When she told me it couldn’t happen again, all I could do was stand there and look past her. It was the only way to keep myself from arguing with her and citing all the reasons why I think sex would be the perfect way to pass the time until I can get her out of here and follow through with my other plans for this trip.

  I have to tuck my erection behind the waistband of my sweats as I make my way down the stairs. Maybe her staying away from me and locked in her room is for the best. My constant state of arousal has me concerned about blood flow and circulation problems.

  Since I’m not much of a cook, I decide on sandwiches for what would be considered brunch since it’s later than breakfast and too early for lunch. My mother raised me with manners, so I make her a sandwich also, placing it at a setting across the dining room table from mine.

  I tinker around in the kitchen washing the coffee pot from earlier, wiping down the already clean counter. After thirty minutes of her not showing her beautiful face, I sit down and eat, slowly. After I finish, I put her food in the fridge and leave a note so she can find it. She has to be hungry; she’s not eaten all day.

  Twenty minutes later I’m in a full speed run on the treadmill. The oversized home gym attached to my master suite was a must when building this house. At the time, I had every intention of moving here and becoming a hermit, however; these days I don’t even like my own company. A number one complaint from family and friends back home, seems I’m hard to be around. Running outside is not the safest around here and a complete impossibility at the moment. An hour and seven miles later I hit the shower. Surely she’s out of her room and bored out of her mind by now.

  Maybe she’d be interested in a board game or something. Hopefully, the decorator stocked some. Wouldn’t be a proper cabin near the mountains if there aren’t any. Remembering the tiny size of the firewood holders makes me begin to doubt there are any here. It’s becoming apparent the decorator was only going for looks and not practicality. She must not be from around here, an area where it is not uncommon to be trapped inside for days at a time during the winter.

  I head straight downstairs after my shower. Her door is shut, so I keep my distance. The sandwich from the fridge is gone, and I notice that the plate is not in the sink. She must have washed it and put it away. Clean. I like that.

  Hoping she’s in the den, I head that direction. I find her curled up on the sofa facing the fire. Her gorgeous light brown hair is all over the place, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch the soft, graceful curls I never noticed until now. Her breaths come out softly over hands that are clasped under her chin. Thick eyelashes rest delicately on the pale pink of her cheeks.

  Thankful I’m still tucked in the waist of my pants, I turn and leave her to nap. She didn’t go into detail last night about the man problems she’s having, and I didn’t ask, but she whimpered several times in her sleep last night, so I imagine her dreams didn’t allow for a very restful sleep.

  I head back upstairs. The last thing she needs is to wake up and see me staring at her even though I’d love nothing more than to sit on the floor in front of the recliner and watch her sleep. I already ran my ass ragged on the treadmill so it looks like weights will be the way to go this time. At least if I exhaust myself, I’ll sleep well tonight. You’d sleep well if you curl in behind London.

  I slide my ear buds in and crank up the music, maybe the loudness of the death metal will keep thoughts of her away. It doesn’t. My mind wanders back to last night. My mind wanders back to Spokane and the fucked up mess I’ve created there. My mind wanders back to my beautiful wife and a pair of soul-searching blue eyes I’ll never have the chance to look into again.

  I push my body and exert myself until I hit muscle fatigue and I practically have to crawl back into the bathroom for yet another shower.

  I’m beating myself up over this whole situation, but it’s not the way I’ve come to expect from having sex with a woman. My issue is stemming from not really having an issue with it other than her being upset that it happened. My concern is that I enjoyed it on more than a physical level. It was primal and instinctive. Raw and real, and even drunk it was the first time the guilt didn’t slam into my stomach the second I pulled out.

  My shower is slow and thorough. My body’s exhausted, but my cock apparently didn’t get the memo. I have every intention of hunting her down if only for companionship when I get out and this guy popping up every ten seconds will only make matters worse.

  I lean my head against the tile in the shower and allow the water to rush off my back as I palm my erection. I sigh heavily and for the first time since high school I picture someone else other than my wife as I grip and stroke my length.

  “Lo
ndon,” I whisper as I explode against the shower wall. I continue to stroke until the surfeit of sensation is so overwhelming my hips jerks back of their own accord.

  It’s only a temporary fix. That’s what comes to mind as I towel off and throw on some clothes.

  I stop by her room and knock on the door. She doesn’t answer, and there’s no chance I’m going to open the door and walk in again without permission. Hoping to find her in the den I make my way downstairs.

  At the landing, the smell of rich, decadent spices fills my nostrils. I breathe deep and moan as I head into the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the stove stirring something in a saucepan. To her left I can see water boiling in another.

  I stand in the doorway and just watch her. My grin grows larger as I hear her humming and occasionally belting out song lyrics. She doesn’t have headphones in so she’s singing from memory; poorly I might add. It’s endearing and a happy change from her mood last night and again this morning.

  I clear my throat, and she turns abruptly, dragging the spoon from the sauce in front of her. The movement causes some to dribble on the floor.

  We both look down at the mess on the floor.

  “Shit,” she mutters, replacing the spoon back into the sauce. She grabs a paper towel and bends down just as I take steps further in the room.

  “I’ll get it,” I tell her a second too late, as she drops to the floor quickly to clean up the sauce.

  I look down at her and get the full effect of her on her knees. She looks up at me innocently, and I groan as my dick once again takes notice and twitches in my jeans. That’s right I put on jeans, this time, knowing I’d grow hard at some point around her. The denim will be slightly more restrictive than the sweats I had on earlier. My self-love session in the shower didn’t help one damn bit.

  Once the sauce is cleared from the floor, I reach my hand down to help her up. She looks at it and back at me like she has to decide if it’s a good idea or not. Reluctantly she takes it and stands. I take a few steps back, releasing her hand. I miss it immediately.