by Brenda Novak
Sophia was tired of the facade, tired of the pretense. Their relationship had deteriorated so quickly, she longed to walk out on it all. To admit she’d made a mistake when she married the high school senior voted Most Likely to Succeed in the class six years ahead of hers. He’d grown verbally abusive as soon as she’d conceived Alexa, and physically abusive after that, too full of his own power, but she’d never really loved him in the first place.
There were moments, moments like now, when she wanted to tell him so, wanted to watch the truth register on his pale, bespectacled face.
Except she could do nothing of the sort. If she did, she’d never see her daughter again. Skip would take Alexa away, even if it meant he had to steal her and go into hiding in some foreign country.
Skip was nothing if not vengeful.
Knocking followed the sound of the doorbell and still she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Skip had blackened her eye this morning before he left for Houston. With her eleven-year-old daughter at cheer camp he hadn’t needed to worry that she might overhear, hadn’t needed to worry that this time Alexa might not believe she’d run into another door. So he’d let himself get more carried away than usual. She’d have to stay inside the house for several days this time, probably for as long as Alexa would be gone.
Maybe that was the real reason he’d done what he’d done and not the fact that she’d argued with him, again, over having another child, something she definitely didn’t want to do. He liked knowing she’d be a prisoner inside their house while he had all the freedom he could desire.
Whoever was at her door wasn’t giving up. The gongs of the doorbell repeated themselves, sounding deep and hollow in the expansive house.
Resting her head against the supple leather of her chair, Sophia let the book she’d selected from her own shelves fall into her lap. “Go away,” she murmured. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but it doesn’t matter.”
It was most likely a friend of Alexa’s. Few people came to the door for Sophia. Skip insisted that she appear at every community event and make a big deal of the contributions they made, but the person she had to be when she was with him didn’t attract friends. She’d thought the real her—the woman she was when he was out of town—had been making some inroads with Gail DeMarco’s circle. Sophia had wanted to belong to that group for years, had always felt that they had something special, and she envied their closeness.
But last Friday at the coffee shop showed her just how ineffective she’d been. They didn’t give a damn about her, either.
When the doorbell rang for the third time, she shoved the ice pack she’d set on the side table to the ground with an irritated curse. Why wouldn’t whoever it was just leave her in peace? It was getting too late for company, anyway.
She wished she had a housekeeper who could tell the person to go. Skip had once suggested hiring someone—no one in town had that kind of help, so it would make quite a statement—but she’d rejected the idea. If he took the housework away from her she’d have nothing to do, since he wouldn’t let her get a job.
Fortunately, he hadn’t pushed the idea. No doubt he’d had second thoughts. He wanted the people of Whiskey Creek to think he was perfect, admirable in every regard. He couldn’t risk destroying his carefully built image by letting what went on behind closed doors go public.
“Sophia! Answer the damn door!”
Hearing her name made her curious enough to overcome the lethargy that had kept her pinned to the chair for hours. Who would be that insistent?
She stood and steadied herself with a hand to the wall before moving gingerly, in deference to her pounding head, out of the room and down the long, winding staircase to the marble entry. There, she peered through the peephole in the massive door Skip had had shipped over from Indonesia.
With a gasp, she covered her mouth. Ted Dixon, her old flame, stood beneath her porch light. She’d never dreamed she’d see the day when he showed up on her doorstep. He hated her.
And he had every right.
“Sophia, I know you’re in there,” he called. “Let me talk to you!”
No way. She couldn’t. Her eye was so swollen she could barely open it and what makeup she’d put on before Skip got up she’d long since cried off. When Alexa was here, she didn’t mind sequestering herself inside her husband’s mansion. At least with her daughter around she had some company. Alexa meant more to her than anything in the world. But when her daughter was gone, the emptiness overwhelmed her, and she started thinking about the bottle of sleeping pills in their medicine cabinet....
“Sophia? Come on. I’m sorry about how I behaved at the coffee shop. I don’t blame you for Scott. He’s—he’s the one who chose to get behind the wheel.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes as she pressed her cheek to the carved wood. She couldn’t think of Scott. Not now. And even if she hadn’t been wearing proof of her husband’s abuse, she couldn’t answer Ted, couldn’t be alone with him. She was too afraid of what she might say. Her emotions, where he was concerned, remained poignant, despite all the years they’d been apart.
With a final bang on the door to show his frustration, he turned and headed down the walkway to the circular drive where he’d left his Lexus. Craving his forgiveness as she did, she found it difficult not to go after him. She thought since he’d come to her somewhat penitent, she might have a chance to achieve what he’d denied her from the moment she’d broken up with him.
But she couldn’t go after him. It wouldn’t lead anywhere good, even if he did forgive her, even if she could believe he didn’t hate her quite as much as before. There could be no closure. A half measure would just increase her desire for what she couldn’t have, make her want to draw him inside, so this night wouldn’t have to be as lonely as all the others. Already, she pretended it was him and not Skip whenever Skip wanted to make love. That was the only way she could tolerate her husband’s touch.
She’d made a mistake when she chose Skip.
And now she had to live with it.
* * *
Callie thought she heard a knock at the bathroom door but it was hard to tell. She’d been trying to use the force and noise of the water to block out what she was feeling, wasn’t particularly interested in returning her attention to anything going on outside the bathroom. Especially if it involved Levi. He was the reason she’d wanted to escape in the first place.
Was he now at the door?
Holding still, she listened more carefully and, sure enough, the tap, tap, tap sounded again. But this time it was followed by Levi’s deep voice.
“Callie? Can I come in?”
She grappled for the best way to respond. “Um, I’m in the shower. I’ll be out in a few minutes. You can use the bathroom then.”
“I don’t need to use the bathroom.”
Of course he didn’t. She’d just thought that purposely misunderstanding might be enough to send him back to the living room. “What do you want, then?”
“I’m looking for a second chance. Can you give me that?”
No, she couldn’t—for several reasons, not the least of which was what he’d told her yesterday. His feelings for the woman who’d come to such a heartbreaking end could not have changed so soon. She didn’t want to make love with him feeling he’d only regret it later.
“I don’t think you’re ready. But that’s okay. There’s no rush. There’ll be other women.” When you’ve healed and I’m gone.... Not that she wanted to imagine him with anyone else....
“Other women,” he repeated flatly.
She had to clear her throat in order to continue speaking. “When the time is right.”
“The hell with that,” he snapped. “I want you.”
Callie felt her nipples tighten at the need in his voice. She was searching her brain for a response she could live with when she heard the doorknob rattle. She’d locked it, but in this old house, that wasn’t much of a deterrent. If he jiggled the handle long enough, it’d open.
He knew that as well as she did, since he’d been using her bathroom, too.
It only took a second. Then he was coming in. If she really wanted to stop him, she had to be more decisive, more forceful. Let him know that “no” really meant no.
But she couldn’t drag a single word to her lips. She stood under the spray, scarcely feeling the water on her skin as she waited to see what he’d do next.
When the shower curtain slid open and she saw him standing there, fully clothed, she covered herself as best she could with her hands.
“Look at you,” he said.
The appreciation on his face made the breath catch in her throat, but she shook her head. “Levi, don’t start this again....”
“Shh,” he said. “Let me see you.”
He wanted her to drop her arms. But she was too frightened of what she was feeling. At the hunger in his eyes, she found it difficult to think, to remember why she couldn’t be with him, even temporarily.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “It’s okay.”
She couldn’t uncover herself. She didn’t have the trust that it required, not with him dressed and in love with a memory.
He seemed to understand she wouldn’t be able to act on her own. After kicking off his shoes, he stepped into the tub, completely unconcerned that he’d soak his clothes.
“Let me help,” he said, and gently pulled her hands away.
Goose bumps jumped out on her skin as he gazed down at her.
“You’re beautiful. But that’s no surprise.”
“Beauty doesn’t matter if—”
He cut her off before she could finish. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”
She was shaking. She wasn’t sure why. She just felt so vulnerable, so torn between what she was dying to have and what she knew she should refuse. “I don’t have any birth control.”
He pulled a condom out of his back pocket. “I do. Funny thing. I happened to find some brand-new Trojans in the trash.”
She gave him a guilty smile. “I wonder who could’ve put them there.”
He chuckled at her facetious tone. “I think it was someone who wants to get laid.”
If that was all she wanted, she could’ve continued sleeping with Kyle. But she didn’t point that out. She’d rather he didn’t realize that he was somehow special.
“Glad you completed the rescue mission.” She doubted she could conceive in her condition, anyway. Liver failure eventually caused the failure of other organs. Not only that, but she was on so much medication. Still, she figured it was better to be safe than sorry. She was already facing an epic battle. She didn’t need to make another life dependent on her own.
He set the package in the soap dispenser. Then he stripped off his wet T-shirt, tossed it behind him and, with one finger, followed a drop of water between her breasts. “I can hardly stay on my feet,” he admitted.
“You said it’s been a long time.”
When he finally pulled her to him, she could tell that he was shaking, too.
“It has been a long time. In fact, it feels like an eternity. I’m afraid I might disappoint you in round one.”
“That’s okay. Maybe it is better if you—you use me for this round. Then it’ll be easier with the next woman.”
Lifting his head, he scowled. “Why are we talking about other women again?”
He sounded annoyed, but she was trying to let him know not to invest too much in what was about to occur. It was the only way her conscience could allow her to continue. “I’m just saying.”
“Stop saying. That’s not what I want to hear right now.”
She blinked the water out of her eyelashes. “What would you like to hear?”
His hands came up to cup her breasts and his thumbs flicked lightly over the tips. “How much you want me would be nice.”
The world seemed to shift beneath her feet. She drew a deep breath, hoping to steady herself. “If I tell you how much I want you, you might not realize you can stop, if—if you need to.”
“I’m not planning on turning back.”
“But the regret might not be worth it for you—”
“I can see I’m going to have to shut you up my own way.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
She didn’t get the rest out because he covered her mouth with his and kissed her until she could no longer remember what she wanted to get across.
“We’re going to set down a few rules,” he murmured against her lips when they stopped to gasp for breath. “You understand?”
“Rules?” she repeated numbly. “What rules?”
He kissed her again, immediately and deeply, adding more tongue and more urgency as his hands slid down her body. “Let’s go over them.”
Her skin was so sensitive she could hardly focus. All she wanted was for him to go on touching her. “Later.”
“That’s better,” he said, accurately reading her impatience to forget any kind of conversation. “But just in case, this is what you can say.”
His finger was running down the crevice of her behind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re going over approved content for when we’re making love.”
She smiled at his playful expression. “I see. How about ‘just shut up and kiss me’?”
“Not bad. I’ve used that one myself,” he said, his mouth so close to hers they exchanged breath.
“Do you have a list?” she asked.
“Just some suggestions.”
“Like...”
“‘Give me more’ is fine. ‘God, that feels good’ is even better. And ‘Ah, yes, fuck me’ in broken gasps is pretty much my favorite. But I’m in a precarious state when it comes to control, so you might not want to use that one too soon.”
She laughed; she’d never seen this side of him. He’d always been so serious. “What about ‘nice ass’?”
He nipped at her lips. “I give you ‘fuck’ and you give me ‘ass’? That’s grade school stuff.”
“I’m not too good at being crude.”
“Try again. This is the one time crude works.”
“Um...” She felt herself blush, but she liked this. “‘Don’t come yet’?”
“I’ll admit that’s useful but I’m hoping I’ll be able to tell where you’re at in the process. I’m also hoping I can last until I get you there. We may have some difficulty in that regard.”
“That’s the second time you’ve warned me. Are you telling me you have a problem with premature ejaculation?”
“Not usually. But—” When his mouth closed over one nipple, she groaned and he grew too distracted to continue.
She let her head fall back as darts of pleasure shot through her. Still, she was curious enough that she managed to hang on to the thread of the conversation. “But...”
He lifted his head. “You should know I’m about to come just looking at you.”
The levity of a moment before disappeared. “You are better at bedroom talk than I am,” she whispered.
“We’ll practice together.” His hand found the sensitive spot it’d been seeking, but she stopped him almost as soon as he touched her there.
“I’ve dreamed of having you inside me from the moment you first staggered out of my bedroom on Tuesday morning,” she said.
He moved a hank of wet hair off her forehead. “See? It’s not that difficult.”
Again, she held him off. “Take off your pants.”
“Wow! You really got it.” His smile slanted to one side as he unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them off—not an easy feat given that the denim was heavy from the water.
She made a point of dropping her gaze to his erection. “Impressive. You’re bigger than a horse!”
“Okay, okay, you should quit while you’re ahead,” he said, and they both laughed as he found her mouth again. Then there wasn’t any more talking at all.
* * *
Callie wasn’t like Behrukh. Levi couldn’t help noticing that—again. But this time
he didn’t find it so hard to cope with. He wasn’t sure what had changed from yesterday, except that he was more prepared to kiss a woman who didn’t taste like Behrukh, more prepared to touch a woman who didn’t feel like her. Maybe it helped that he’d had over twenty-four hours to recognize how unrealistic he’d been when he thought he could resist Callie.
He could even appreciate some of what made Callie unique to him. Behrukh had been so literal. She would not have understood all of the conversation they’d just had. Too much would’ve been lost in translation. With the vast differences between his culture and hers, they sometimes had difficulty communicating about basic things. Callie was as American as he was. That made certain nuances accessible to both of them from the start.
He also liked how transparent she was. Her obvious enthusiasm for what they were doing added a level of eroticism he hadn’t yet experienced. It didn’t hurt that, with her, there was no need to fear a backlash, no need to keep glancing over his shoulder as if he was taking something he had no right to take.
“This isn’t comfortable. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, and scooped her into his arms. They’d already tried making love in the shower but this one was too old and small. So far he’d succeeded only in donning a rubber and pulling down the damn shower rod he’d just fixed.
He wanted Callie in bed. Now.
They were wet, and he didn’t stop so they could dry off. He hoped she wouldn’t care. He couldn’t wait another second to feel her close around him.
If she minded, she didn’t complain. She stared up at him, her eyes finally saying far more than her lips.
“What you lack in bedroom talk, you make up for in other areas,” he said as he pushed inside her.
She raked her fingernails down his back and arched into him. “I meant that horse comment.”
He flashed her a smile. He appreciated the joke, but they were both too wound up to laugh. The compulsion to thrust overtook him, and she responded with a guttural moan that said she liked it.
He loved the feel of Callie, but he also liked watching her as they moved together. She looked up at him as if...as if this was somehow momentous, which was oddly gratifying. But he’d been right to issue a warning. He had no stamina. It’d been too long since he’d had any kind of sexual release. The sudden rush of climax hit him almost instantly.
