Most teenagers don’t realize how good they have it, but I always knew and appreciated her. She was my closest friend. Losing her was something I knew I would never recover from, and the best I could do was bury the hurt, anger, sadness, and memories so deep they almost never were able to surface and come out on their own.
But here I was, standing in a stranger’s kitchen, starting to drown in the memories prompted by the sweet woman in my midst who reminded me so much of what I’d lost. I asked for a restroom and excused myself. If I stayed any longer, the waves would overtake me and I would surely drown in front of a stranger.
* * *
I stared at myself in the mirror and tried to find my mom in my face, in the few features we shared. It got harder and harder with each year that passed. I only pulled out her photos a handful of times a year—it was all I could bear. They’d become worn with age and from my touching them for so many years. They were fading the way my memory of her face was beginning to in my mind.
I could always see the resemblance between my father and me. It was there in my nose, the darker tone of my skin, in my high cheekbones, the hazel eyes we shared. If I looked hard enough, if I focused hard enough through the hurt, I could see glimpses of my mother: the sprinkle of freckles across my cheeks, the tilt of my eyes, our same stubborn chin.
Every now and then I would meet or see someone who knew my mother while she was alive. They would say such nice things about her and tell me how much I looked like her. I know they were trying to be polite.
I always wanted to ask my dad about it, see if he saw as much of her in me as others seemed to, things I just couldn’t see myself. I wondered if perhaps that was part of why there was so much distance between us, but I knew I never would mention any of it.
Even after all these years, and a new marriage under his belt, my mother was still a sore subject for him. He was likely the only person who could give me an honest, truthful answer about it, but she was not something either of us ever found ourselves able to talk about. We always tiptoed around the subject.
I shook my head and realized I had gotten lost in my thoughts and I had no idea how much time had passed or how long I had been in here. I turned on the cold water and splashed my face with it, and looked at myself again. Nothing was going to hide the red around my eyes, a sure giveaway I had been crying. A knock rapped on the door.
“Ros, are you okay?” Marie called out.
“I’ll be out in a second.”
Thank God my voice somehow sounded steady and even. I opened the door to Marie leaning against the opposite wall. My mouth opened to give some kind of explanation for why I’d been in there so long, but she took one long, searching look at my face and pulled me into her tight embrace before I could even utter a single word.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered in my ear as I returned the hug.
Just like my mom would have, she somehow knew exactly what I needed in that moment and gave it to me without question or explanations. As I fell into the warmth and comfort of her arms, the arms of what was basically a stranger, I couldn’t help but feel grateful this woman had come into my life.
Five
“This movie again, sweetie?” Dan breathed into my ear as he pressed a soft kiss to my neck.
I groaned, turned, and stretched out, reaching up to link my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I glanced at the TV and realized I had drifted off watching Shirley MacLaine racking up dead husbands in What a Way to Go, one of my favorite movies. I had a serious addiction to classic films, something my mom had fostered in me.
“I missed you, babe, how did your first official day go?”
He leaned over, placing one knee on the bed next to me and both hands on either side of my head, caging me in.
“It went well, all things considered. I’m sorry it’s so late,” Dan murmured against my mouth.
He kissed me again lightly, sweetly, and ran his tongue along the seam of my lips. I granted him access, stroking his tongue with mine. As we continued to kiss, I shivered as desire coiled low in my belly, heat gathering between my thighs.
I moaned into his mouth, running my fingers through his hair, lightly tugging, my signal to him that I wanted to play. He groaned, lowering his body to mine, and began kissing a trail down my neck to my collarbone.
I loved this, missed this. The feel of him in my arms, the weight of his body against mine. I needed this connection with him, needed the noise of us to quiet all the thoughts in my head. While his frequent absences had created an emotional distance between us, I always knew we could connect physically, that there was a comfort found in losing ourselves in each other.
I arched my back as I ran my hands down his sides, reaching for the hem of his shirt, wanting more of his skin, to feel his warmth against me. He took the hint and sat up a bit, reached back, and tore his shirt off with one hand, a boyish grin lighting up his face.
He grabbed the hem of my shirt and said, “Off, now,” his voice rough with desire, the sound of it sending a shiver down my spine.
I sat up, crossing my arms, and pulled my shirt off. Before I could get it past my hair, Dan slipped a hand behind my back, pressing my body up toward his. His lips wrapped around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth.
I moaned again and rolled my hips up to meet his, silently begging him to cut to the chase and put us out of our misery. He laid me back down, switching his attention to my other nipple, running his tongue over it the way he knew I loved, lightly biting it in the way he knew would make me wet almost instantly.
I whimpered and moved my hips faster, trying desperately to get some friction, anything to ease the growing ache between my thighs. Or ramp it up, I wasn’t sure at this point.
I moved my hands between our bodies and ran them down his chest to his flat, ripped stomach. I reached for his belt buckle, impatiently tugging to loosen it and work his pants off, first with my hands, and then with my feet. He laughed. I returned his smile. He stood up and finished taking them off, tossing them to the side.
Dan stopped and stared at me with a look so full of lust and love, my breath caught. Before I could breathe again, his hand slid down my body, caressing as he went: the side of my breast, a whisper against my ribcage, a feathering on the curve of my stomach, a quick grip on my hip, the light pressure of fingers on the inside of my thigh. His hand then dipped between my legs, tracing my center through my thin pajama pants.
“Shit,” he groaned. “You’re already so fucking wet, I can feel you through your pants.”
Dan was normally so reserved, but I loved how filthy his mouth got when we were intimate. He slid his body down mine until I could feel his warm breath between my thighs.
“Fuck, I can even smell you. So good, baby. I’ve missed this.”
He pulled my pants and panties off with a firm tug and dropped them to the floor as I quickly wrapped my legs around his waist and tried to pull him down on top of me, wanting him inside of me, feeling like I would die if he didn’t fill me right then.
He moved down my body, spread my legs further with his wide shoulders and looked up, giving me a devilish smirk that made me even wetter, if that was possible. His head dipped down as he licked my slit with the flat of his tongue.
My back arched so hard in response, I almost screamed. He continued at a steady pace, sometimes focusing his attention firmly on my clit, lapping at my wetness, drinking my desire.
“Dan, this feels so good, but I want you inside me,” I managed to groan out through my panting.
He said nothing but gave me a look I recognized. One that said he wasn’t going to stop until he was good and ready to. Before I knew it, I arched off the bed again, back bowed, grabbing at his hair as I forced his face right up against me, exploding on his tongue as his mouth continued to devour me.
As I came down, he pulled away, smiling at me, and I couldn’t help but giggle. I loved that about us, that our lovemaking was always full o
f smiles and laughter along with the passion.
He climbed his way back up my body, kissing me roughly on the mouth and grinding his thick, hard length against my overly sensitive bundle of nerves. I could taste my arousal in his kiss, and I felt how ready he was for me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist again, crossing my ankles and resting them on his tight ass. I began to grind against him, my wetness making us both slippery.
“More. I need more. I need to feel you inside me now,” I begged, still breathless from my orgasm and his kiss.
He reached up and pulled my hair, not gently, just rough enough to send another flood of wetness to my core, and plunged inside me with one hard push.
This. This was what I missed so much all the months he was gone. Every. Single. Time.
He began thrusting into me slowly, setting his rhythm and pace, my hips matching it. I closed my eyes, my head rolling back. I could feel my muscles tightening and knew it wouldn’t be long before I shattered again. It wasn’t always like this, but things were always more intense right after a long separation.
“Fuck, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, you feel so fucking good,” he whispered harshly in my ear.
I kissed him hard, forcing my tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste him and myself mingled together. Our bodies were so in tune, years of experience guiding us to the rhythm that would guarantee our mutual release, like a dance we had done so many times it was muscle memory, despite all the time we spent apart.
Our pace increased to the music of our bodies meeting, my moans and panting, his groans. Our sounds sang out a chorus of harder, faster, more, deeper, right there.
I fell apart again, the breath I’d been holding rushing out. I contracted around his length, feeling him harden and pulse, groaning out his release moments later. He dropped his forehead to mine as I collapsed backward, spent and exhausted.
“I so needed this. I missed it. I missed you. I thought you would be around more with this project, but I’ve barely seen you over the last few weeks,” I said, laughing from the relief of release.
“I needed that too, baby. I hope after we get the new project kinks worked out that I’ll get to be home more. How was your day? What did you end up doing?” Dan rolled us onto our sides, pulling me close, throwing his leg over mine.
“It was good. I spent some time with Marie at the Madrona. It was nice to get out and actually have some human contact.”
“Who’s Marie?” he asked in a faraway voice. He was much closer to sleep than I was.
“Marie is the owner of the Madrona, the B and B we stayed at when we first got here. Sweet, older woman?”
I didn’t know why this surprised me. Dan had proven time and time again that if it wasn’t on his immediate radar, he forgot about it, including things that had just happened. This was another reason I’d spent so many birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays alone.
I turned over to continue the conversation, only to see he was already asleep. As I snuggled back into his hold, attempting to find a comfortable position so that I could fall asleep, I envied his ability to pass out at the drop of a hat.
* * *
Hours later, I was still wide awake. I disentangled myself from Dan’s embrace, grabbed the blanket from the bench in front of the bed and made my way out onto the balcony.
The air was chilly and it was lightly misting, but I could hear the crashing of the waves along the shore below and found a certain peace in that. I wrapped the blanket tightly around my shoulders and sat on the outdoor sofa, cuddling into the cushions and pillows, finally finding a comfortable position.
I tried to calm my brain down, using some of the meditation techniques Jos had tried teaching me. As I decided to try a different breathing exercise, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and it felt like someone was standing behind me.
“Dan, is that you?”
Nothing. He was still in bed and I was completely alone out here, though it didn’t feel that way. I turned back around, figuring it was paranoia getting to me.
Then it happened again, the sensation that someone else was here. I looked around, got up and walked the entire length of the balcony and back. No one was there, but I couldn’t shake it.
Probably an animal or something.
Settling back into the chair, I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm down. Rationally, logically, I knew I was alone. I had to be imagining things because it was more remote out here than I was used to. I’d gone from having neighbors shouting distance away to having to drive a couple of minutes to reach the closest.
I finally calmed down when a breeze started to stir. It was almost like a caress on my neck, as though someone gently ran their fingertips along the nape.
As the sensation warmed my body and sent a shiver down my spine at the same time, I got the scent of something warm and masculine and divine. There was no other way to describe it. My eyes fluttered closed as the scent of sandalwood, something sweet like tobacco, musk, and salty ocean enveloped me.
It was quite possibly the best thing I’d ever smelled. Comforting, slightly arousing, a heady combination. As the scent and the caress of the wind faded, I opened my eyes and looked around one more time, hoping to find the source of the airy touch and intoxicating scent. I came up empty.
I went inside after and tried to watch TV and then read, all in an attempt to distract myself from what had happened on the balcony. It sat there in the back of my mind, needling at me, like a puzzle my subconscious was trying to solve. I tried to brush it off to some lingering discomfort in a new house, but I knew it wasn’t true. This place already felt like home.
I couldn’t forget that scent, or the sense of someone being out there with me, the caress. It brought back the dream from last night. What had happened out on the balcony brought out the same emotions the dream had. The windblown touch elicited the same excitement as when the man had touched me in my sleep. It made absolutely no sense and I realized the only thing I could do was try to ignore it all, push it out of my mind.
Six
The sensation of being watched never went away. A month had passed since it first started, and I should have been used to the feeling of featherlight caresses on my neck and hands, as often as it happened.
Every single time I would look around the property, inspect every room of the house, and double-check the security system, but I was always alone. It should have creeped me out or scared me—that would have been the reasonable reaction to what was going on—but it never did.
I hadn’t mentioned it to Dan, because what was I going to say? “Hey, honey, it feels like someone is watching me or stalking me, even though I don’t know anyone here, and our closest neighbor is at least a mile away, and it makes no logical sense.”
I decided at least that could be a safe topic to broach with Dan. One that wouldn’t make me seem so crazy. The last thing I wanted was for Dan to start worrying about me while he was in the midst of what could be the most important project of his life.
Nearly two months here on the island and three weeks into the new job, and Dan was already working crazy hours. He often wasn’t home before midnight and was gone most mornings before the sun had fully risen.
Toward the end of the week, he had finally made it home in time for dinner, so I decided to broach the topic. I just wasn’t sure how to insert it into our conversation.
Did I just throw it out there? Get it on the table and out of the way? I nibbled on my nail, considering the best way to do this without looking like I had lost my mind. Because really, it felt like I was losing my mind.
“Hello? Hello? Anybody in there?” Dan waved his hands in front of my face.
I shook my head to regain focus and looked up at him. “Huh?”
He laughed, shaking his head at me. “You were on another planet, babe. I must have asked you the same question a few times. You were staring off into space. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just
thinking about stuff and guess I got a little caught up in my thoughts. Sorry. What were you asking?”
“I was asking how your day was. I know I’ve been working crazy hours and we haven’t been able to talk, let alone spend any time together.”
“Things are okay. I haven’t explored as much as I would like yet, but now that we have a pretty good idea of what your schedule’s like, I will.”
“Sounds like a good plan. I know you’re not used to being cooped up in the house.”
“I’m not, but the little break was nice. And yeah, I’m not crazy about all the hours you’ve been working, but it’s nice not having to go to bed alone every night,” I said before taking a bite of my food.
I leaned my head to the side, my thoughts returning to what I wanted to ask him. I decided to just go for it. He already knew my style of crazy, why not add a little more to the mix?
After another couple bites, I launched into it. “So, this may sound kinda funny, but do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”
“Yep. Every single morning.” He tried to hide the smirk but failed miserably.
“Ugh, you’re the worst! You know exactly what I mean. I know you haven’t spent much time in the house, but when you’re alone, do you ever get the feeling like you aren’t alone?”
He sat for a minute, chewing his food and considering my question. He swallowed and took a drink of his water.
“No. But like you said, I haven’t been here much. Maybe it’s an animal? Or maybe it’s just living in a new place and the fact this house is a little more isolated than you’re used to? I don’t know, babe. But I haven’t felt it.”
“Yeah, maybe. Have you ever suddenly smelled something? Like a sudden strong smell of sandalwood and tobacco?”
“No, are you sure it’s not my shower wash?”
“No, this doesn’t smell like you. This is a very distinct scent. I smell it when I get that feeling someone might be nearby or watching me.” I whispered the last thing, moving the remaining food around my plate with the fork before looking up at him.
Through the Mist Page 3
