Dirty Little Secrets

by Kierney Scott

  “You are, Megan. The picture you gave me was the most considerate gift anyone has ever given me.”

  Megan eyed him suspiciously. He was being serious.

  “And all the pills and potions you bought me. That was a seriously nice thing to do. You could have just left me.”

  “I nearly blinded you,” Megan protested. It was hardly sweet, it was damage limitation.

  “We won’t dwell on that part. And don’t forget about the first night. We would not be together now if you hadn’t waited for me for hours at the hospital. The sex on the counter didn’t hurt either. Here’s to sex on the kitchen counter.” James held up his plastic glass to toast.

  Megan clinked her glass against his. “To kitchen sex and nice guys who think I am sweet when I clearly am anything but.”

  “Why don’t you want me to think you are nice? You are. When you’re not running scared, you are lovely.”

  Megan shrugged her shoulders. She turned away and looked down into the white foam of the river. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Just like you’re honest, I like to be honest about who I am. I know I’m messed up. You should know that better than anyone else. I can’t do normal relationships. I can’t enjoy sex without alcohol. I find it easier to have sex with a man than have a proper conversation. The idea of being anyone’s girlfriend again scares the hell out of me. I can’t do it.”

  “Are you done?”

  Megan shook her head. “Isn’t that enough?”

  James smiled. “It would be if it wasn’t all bullshit. You have been telling yourself you can’t do stuff so long, you have started to believe it. Megan you graduated first in your class. You can do anything you want to. You’re already a girlfriend, so that one is bullshit. You’re my girlfriend and you have been for a while, I just didn’t tell you. And the first night in the hotel we had sex and then talked. You say you can’t do that, but clearly you can. Again I didn’t point it out because of your propensity to run, but you did it. You’re not fooling me, woman.”

  Megan bit her lip as she remembered their first night in the hotel. He was right, they did talk. “But I had been drinking,” she protested.

  James nodded. “Yep, you were drunk enough to forget to pretend to be a bitch. That was a good night.” A wicked smile pulled on the corner of his mouth.

  Megan took another bite of her sandwich as she considered his logic. “Or I am just a bitch and alcohol masks it.”

  James put down his glass. “Why do you want me to see you as a bitch? I see your flaws. Trust me, sweetheart, even a myopic octogenarian wouldn’t struggle to see them. But you’re not a bitch and you don’t have any of the limitations you think you do. Those are all in your mind.”

  James brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

  Megan bit her lip. “James…” she started but she did not know how to finish. She wanted to tell him that she only knew two roles for women, victim or heartless bitch. Women that were better than her, stronger, than her could strive to be something else, but she couldn’t. She would never risk going back to what she was before she met Ben. “I will only disappoint you.”

  James shook his head. “You won’t disappoint me, Megan. I know you. Stop putting limits on yourself. Stop telling yourself what you can’t do. You’re already doing half of them. And if you stick with me, wombat, we will cross off everything else on your list. If I push you too hard, tell me you don’t want to, or tell me to fuck off, but don’t tell me you can’t.”

  Megan took a deep breath. She did not answer right away; she let his words wash over her. “OK.” Megan hit his arm playfully. “Look at you, a smart and honest journalist. Will wonders never cease?”

  James encircled her hand and brought it to his lips, placing the faintest kiss on her wrist. Her pulse rewarded the small action with a hurried cadence. “Still hate all journalists. We will have to work on crossing that one off the list soon.”

  Megan laughed, remembering the advice he had just given her. “Fuck off,” she said sweetly before she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Really, Megan? I give you an out and you use it on the journalist issue?”

  “Do I only get to use it once? Well, that changes things.” She stopped speaking to pretend she was reflecting on the matter. “No wait, it wouldn’t. I would still use it on the journalist issue.”

  “Honestly, woman, you are difficult.”

  Megan made a sound of exasperation. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” She cut off a piece of cheese and squished it as artfully as she could on a grape before she gave up and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

  “Am I at least an exception to the all-journalists-are-scum rule?”

  Megan sighed. He was pushing the issue. She supposed he was right in doing so. She wouldn’t be happy for someone to denigrate her profession. “It’s not fair for me to say all journalists are scum. I only personally know one journalist and he is the most moral person I have ever met. I hate journalists in the same way I hated Lauren Grant in fifth grade for telling everyone the reason I always wore long-sleeved shirts was because I had bruises from my stepdad, and the same way I hated Francesca Dickens at Columbia for telling everyone I slept around. Both of those things were true by the way, but they are nobody’s business. So much of the press is cattiness and gossip. People are entitled to their secrets. Being married to Ben means opening up the papers every morning and being scared about reading something about myself. I have things I want to keep private like anyone else, but because I’m in the public eye people think they are entitled to know everything about me, to judge me. I hate that. I hate being judged. I judge myself enough; I don’t need anyone else to help.”

  James covered her hand with his and squeezed with the lightest of pressures. “You’re right. I hate that part too.”

  Megan turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his. “But you still print it.”

  “I do. My dad picked and chose, buried stories to protect people or to hurt them. And then there is the phone hacking and the witness intimidation. Those were some good times.” James winced as he seemed to remember the scandal. His gaze left hers and travelled to the horizon. “I know what it feels like to be judged. To know that whenever you meet people they will already think they know you. They have made up their minds. Everywhere you go, it follows you. Trust me. I know what it feels like.” His stare was vacant, a million miles away. A sadness clung to him, cloaked him in a fragility so completely out of place on him. James was as physically strong as any man she had ever met, but he was brought to his knees by a memory.

  The same way she was.

  She pressed her lips to his cheek. She wanted to hold him, say something that would make him feel better, but she didn’t know what to say because she had been one of those people. She had judged him and insulted him. A tightness closed around her throat as the shame of her hypocrisy dawned on her. “I’m sorry.”

  James sighed and turned back to her. “Thank you, Megan. Now do you see why I have to be scrupulously honest? The world already thinks I’m like my father. I’m going to make damn sure that I know I am nothing like him, even if that means printing hurtful or inane stories. I run what comes across my desk. I have to.”

  Megan nodded. She understood. He had tried to explain once before, but she did not know him well enough, or she was being too egocentric to really hear him. His career was vital to him, he had something to prove to the world the same way she did. Different points, but with the same heavy weight chained to them, dragging them to places they did not want to go.

  Megan ran her fingers through his thick hair. “Do you ever visit your father?”

  James’ gaze lowered to her mouth like he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. “No, the last time I saw him was during the hearings. If you watched I’m sure you will remember him trying to blame everything on me. Just shows what an idiot he is. I wasn’t even in the country. It took all of ten minutes to verify my story. It would have b
een physically impossible for me to do any of the shit he was shovelling in my direction.”

  Megan pulled his head down and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “I’m sorry, James. Nothing hurts more than being betrayed by someone who is supposed to love you.”

  “Like when Ben made you take the blame for his boyfriend? Your face was on the cover of every newspaper in the country. He betrayed you as badly as my father betrayed me. How did you forgive him?”

  Megan sat back, resting her palms on the warm rock. She closed her eyes and listened to the river raging past, such a cleansing, comforting sound, it was easy to forget there was a whole world just beyond the trees. “I’m not sure I have,” she admitted. Things had not been the same between them since it happened. Ben had stopped being her person, her soft place to fall. “I’m not even sure I ever will completely. But I owe Ben my life. He has given me everything I have. He saw potential in me when no one else did. He put me through school, he believed in me. And he cares about me, in his own uniquely damaged way. I will always owe Ben my love and loyalty. Nothing will ever change that. I will always fight to protect him, even when he can’t do the same for me.”

  James shook his head. “Can’t? That’s bullshit. He could protect you and he chose not to. You are his responsibility and he failed you. If a man fails to protect his woman, he is just a failure.” His jaw clenched together, a tight mass of taut muscle appearing, a telltale sign of his simmering emotion. He controlled his anger so well, but his body betrayed him with small signs.

  “That’s easy for you to say because you’ve never been in that position. You’ve said yourself youve never been in love so this is all hypothetical. You don’t know how you would react until you’re in a situation that tests your loyalties, that pits your values against each other, and you have to make a choice. Ben had to make a choice people should not have to make.”

  “There was no choice to be made. When you marry someone, you sign on for making their wellbeing as important as your own. And Ben didn’t do that, he fucked you over.”

  Megan sat up. “You’re very judgemental for someone who has absolutely no experience in serious long-term committed relationships. Get back to me when you are challenged to compromise your integrity for someone. I’m not saying Ben made the right or wrong choice.”

  James shook his head. “He made the wrong choice.”

  Megan let out a stream of air. This was why she did not deal in hypothetical, it was impossible to know what was real and what was wishful thinking. If it was easy to be selfless, everyone would be noble and no one would appear in her office with yellow faded bruises hidden under fresh purple ones. But life wasn’t like that, people were broken and damaged and they did the best they could. She turned to James, so confident, but he could be because he had never really been challenged. “Would you have made a different choice?”

  “Absolutely” James said adamantly, and she had no doubt, he meant what he said.

  “You didn’t let me finish. Take the value you hold most dear. Your integrity, your honesty?” she asked. She waited for him to nod his head to confirm before she continued. “Would you put your wife’s feelings above your integrity?”

  James stared at her for a long time before he turned his gaze to the sky. Eventually he turned back to her. “I will never let a woman think that I put her above the truth. I cannot and will not make that sacrifice. That is why I will never marry; it wouldn’t be fair on either party. But I stand by my words, if a man loves a woman, he has to protect her. If he can’t he should not have a wife. I can’t.”

  Megan took a moment to process his words. A strange heaviness tugged at her heart, a sadness for him. James deserved happiness and contentment more than anyone she had ever known. He deserved to have a woman he loved without limits, a woman who would in return hold him above all else. “Now who is putting limits on themselves? You, more than any man I know, need to be someone’s husband. You need to have an Adelaide who you teach to expect nothing but the best from the men in her life. You have so much to give, James.” Megan ignored the stab of pain she felt when she thought of James with someone else, but she was right, James deserved someone worthy of his love. He had so much to give.

  James shook his head and smiled “Woman, what is it about you? You make me tell you things I don’t even admit to myself. It’s a bit spooky.”

  Megan’s eyes widened. “That is exactly how I feel about you! You come around being all sweet and sexy and I start blabbing. I don’t even realise I’m doing it. And I can’t even blame it on the sex because it started way before that. As soon as I met you I started coughing up privileged information. It’s like we vibrate at the same frequency.”

  James’ dark brow shot up in question.

  “You know how everything has a natural frequency?” Megan asked, trying to explain her admittedly obscure analogy.

  James nodded.

  “Well, it’s like ours is the same, that’s why my barriers break down when I’m with you. You know how soldiers have to break their march then they cross a bridge because if their frequency matches the frequency of the bridge, it might collapse? You, just by being you and having your natural frequency, threaten the structural integrity of my defences.” God, she sounded stupid. It made no sense to anyone outside her mind. Why was she babbling? She only babbled with James, which sort of proved her point…

  In an instant James was above her, his mouth separated from hers by a whisper. “Christ, you are smart. Did I ever tell you how sexy smart is?” When he spoke his lips caressed hers with each syllable. When she did not respond he added, “Very sexy.”

  Megan’s response was a soft groan as James captured her mouth in a fervent kiss. He pulled back his head just enough to say. “Christ, it’s been a long time. Far too long.”

  Megan laughed, “What is it about men? Years is a long time, weeks isn’t even a lull.”

  “Woman, that’s just crazy talk.” James lowered her down and the heat from his body radiated through her, settling deep in her core. “But don’t worry. I won’t take you here. I know your rules. We talked and you’re sober. We could never have that. But a bit of kissing would beOK. There is not a no kissing policy I haven’t heard about?” He didn’t wait for a response. His head lowered over hers but instead of kissing her, his mouth found the delicate hollow of her neck. He licked and kissed at the delicate pressure point until her breath came in shallow pants. His lips followed the contours up the column of her throat, pressing feather-light kisses along the way. Gently his lips brushed hers but he did not kiss her, instead he whispered, “Limits are important to you.” There was a flash of defiance in his mossy green eyes, followed by a wicked smile that went a jolt of electric pleasure straight to her core.

  Leisurely James’ hand caressed the soft expanse of her hip. His long fingers tickled her sides as he moved his hand higher, finding the heavy weight of her breast. Through the soft satin material he rubbed her, rhythmically stroking her until her nipples were taut peaks straining against her bra. On reflex her back arched, asking him to apply more pressure, but he wouldn’t. He knew what she was asking for and he would not give it to her, instead his hand found her other breast and began the sweet torture again. Her breath hitched in her throat. She relaxed against the hard surface of the rock and allowed James to carry her higher. Her hands fisted as he rubbed her through her bra. His movements were slow and deliberate. “James, please,” she moaned, wantonly pulling up her shirt. James’ weight kept her from reaching behind her to unfasten her bra, so she pulled at the cup until her breast spilled over the top exposing a hard nipple.

  “Please what?” James asked. His voice was laced with wicked desire. His lips brushed the taut peak as he spoke, every syllable caressing her, but he refused to take it in his mouth and ease the tight need.

  “Please,” she heard a voice beg and only part of her recognised it as her own.

  James brought his head back so he could stare her straight in the eye. “Th
ey’re your rules. I wouldn’t be the nice guy you keep saying I am if I don’t respect them.” He lowered his head again and kissed her. His hand found her breast, rolling her nipple slowly between his fingers. He tugged gently and a flash ofwhite desire appeared behind her eyes, hot and needing. He captured her moan in his mouth. Gently his hands kneaded her breasts and then again a gentle tug, sending a wave of pleasure down through her, settling between her thighs. Her back arched harder against him, searching.

  James left her mouth again and traced a path along her jaw. She forced herself to take a deep breath and pleaded with her body to slow her pulse, to stop the coiling need deep within her, but then his tongue flicked her nipple and all she could focus on was the hunger roiling through her. She could not see beyond his mouth on her. Everything in her mind was lost to a single small point. His teeth sank gently into her, merging pleasure and pain in a searing current that shot through her, blocking out all coherent thought. She heard a moan which sounded foreign to her, primal.

  His hand slid between them, coaxing her knees apart; it took only the slightest of pressure, she had no will, her driving force was the need she had tried so hard to forget. The moment he touched her, she was lost to it. He traced a path up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher still until it was pooled around her waist. He rubbed her through soft cotton, his thumb stroking her with skilled precision.

  She pulled his head down to hers. She needed to kiss him, to taste him. His head lowered but she thrashed under the rhythmic assault on her senses. “James,” she moaned again.

  “Shall I stop, Megan?”

  Megan closed her eyes. She should say yes. That was who she was, she shouldn’t be enjoying this. At some point she would realise what she was doing, and her body would shut down, all the pleasure would be drowned out by anxiety. But…right now it felt so good. She was lost to it, lost to James. Her only response was the buck of her hips against his hand. It felt so good, so right, nothing mattered past that.