Time and Space

by Rachel Robinson

  ****

  If my phone call with Dax is any indication as to how the rest of my day is going to play out, I should have just stayed in bed. Or perhaps locked myself in my home office and scrolled through design websites all day long. Work is always the answer. Dax is upset and rightfully so. Which in turn hurts my heart and causes my mood to plummet so low that it’s now in a dirty public toilet. He’s upset I didn’t call him last night to ask him to come back. Mostly, he’s beside himself that I’m here, standing in front of Cody’s house about to ring the doorbell. You know how women say one thing, think another, and actually do something entirely different? I feel like that’s what Dax pulled. Go ahead, Lainey. Be with Cody. Figure it out. When he really meant, go ahead, Lainey, crush my soul. When I hung up the call, he was resigned to holding up his end of the bargain that he created, and I felt like a lump of coal.

  When Mother called next, I confessed that I was seeing Cody. The other end of her phone was eerily quiet and then she said, “Be careful.” Wow. Thanks for being so ominous. That’s great advice coming from someone who raised me and always has a million unsolicited words to give. Only two when I truly need advice. She’s worried about the wedding and what everyone will think if it goes belly up. Again. Lainey Rosemont cancels another wedding! I can see the email subject lines now. My family back in Russia will flip their shit. Again. I can’t dwell without having an anxiety attack and running full speed back home, so I knock on his large, mahogany, wooden door instead. It’s the kind of door you see in movies. Like maybe a sex dungeon resides on the other side or some sort of portal to another world. Laughing to myself, I agree that it kind of is a portal. One to the past. I get to be whoever I want when I step inside.

  Cody opens the door wide. His hair is tousled, his five o’clock shadow must be like a twelve o’clock shadow, his T-shirt hugs every rippling curve, and for the love of all that is holy, he has a dish towel tossed over one shoulder. It triggers so many memories that it causes me to close my eyes and catch my breath. Definitely a portal, I decide.

  He leans against the doorjamb and makes no move to wave me in. “Are you hungry?” he asks. I remind myself of the present and all that has transpired since those memories. A lot. Too much. Not enough. Everything. Right now the only thing I can do is place Dax in a box, albeit a comfortable one, in the corner of my mind and focus on the present, which just so happens to also be my past. Go ahead and make sense of that. I take a deep breath and lock that shit tight. I’ll leave the key right here on this front porch for later.

  Cody eyes me up and down, his gaze flicking to each body part methodically. The way he looks at me is intoxicating. “Straight to the point, I see,” I reply. Peeking around his massive body, I glimpse inside his new world. It’s a beautiful, spacious home, but it looks as if he’s just moved in. The gray walls are bare, the dark polished wooden floors are pristine, unmarred even by footprints, and the furniture looks like it came directly from a European showroom. This house isn’t lived in and that’s just at first glance.

  Cody notices my appraisal. “I prefer my apartment in the city. It’s nice to have a place at home, though. Maybe you could help me spruce it up. Use your finer skills, you know?” His smile is predatory. It holds equal parts of love and destruction. I want to taste it. His NYC apartment is just as nice, but he’s right. He spends more time there. I immediately wonder why. “Come in,” he says, opening the door wider and ushering me inside. Yep, this shit is definitely expensive European. I mentally tally what this sole room alone must have cost to furnish. Walking slowly through his foyer and taking in every detail I can helps to calm my nerves. I let my purse flop down onto a gothic style bench, slide off my ballet flat shoes, and follow him into the kitchen where I smell breakfast cooking.

  The kitchen is beautiful. As my gaze flutters from one marble inlaid detail to the next, I realize why I deem it perfect. It is my perfect kitchen. The one we started planning when we got engaged; from the brand of the range right down to the length of the large island. This would be my kitchen if he didn’t take him from me. Now it’s his. There are so many complicated components that have always hovered around our relationship. We do what we’ve always done. We ignore them completely. When Cody died, I thought my secrets would be buried with him. He is the only one to know exactly how and why I came to Virginia Beach all those years ago. My life has morphed into something less sinister since those days, but the secrets I keep, and what I’ve caused, eat away at my soul. That’s another reason I refused to see him when he returned, although I could never admit it to Chloe. Guilt. It’s heavy.

  I try to make small talk about inconsequential things as Cody busies himself at the range, his wide back facing me. When I mention that I spoke with my mother he wants to know how she’s been. When we dated years ago they were close. My mother, Grace, took his death hard. I don’t think she’s accepted that he never died. Good for her. It’s easier that way. I haven’t had the gall, opportunity or the right words to ask about the time he spent in captivity. I assume he doesn’t want to divulge details about his darkest hours. If we become closer, I know he’ll open up to me. Even though I have no right to that information. Cody asks if I told her about him and I try to steer the conversation to anything that won’t remind me of my wedding to Dax or the fact that he was a prisoner for too many years to count. One thing is for certain, it didn’t seem to affect him outwardly. Sure, he has some new tattoos and a couple scars, but he holds himself well.

  “What are you cooking?” I ask in a quick lull. It’s my chance to change the subject.

  He lets me skirt around Dax without fuss. “I made breakfast—mostly everything you used to like. You’ll have to tell me if anything has changed.” He’s remembered sunny side up with crispy bacon after all this time? My heart thuds faster. This is the old Cody. My Cody: thoughtful to a fault, with a single goal to make me happy. He turns, a plate in his hand, and walks over to the table. “Sit,” he orders. What can I say? I sit, taking a chair at the head of a long rectangular table in his empty dining room. If I speak loud enough it will echo in here.

  Cody leans over and places the large plate in front of me, his lips next to my cheek. His head dips lower. I raise my chin up and close my eyes. “It’s a new perfume,” I say, explaining. I know exactly where he’s going with this. If I’m being honest, it’s why I sprayed this particular scent where I did. It’s a game we always played. Mostly it was foreplay. Hot, fucking foreplay that causes my body to instantly respond like it always used to. I shudder and cross my legs underneath the table. I know he knows. Cody always has a way to tell when I’m horny out of my damn mind. It was his gift, now it may be my curse. Warm breath tickles the side of my face, and I breathe him inside me.

  I turn to meet his smoldering gaze. I must look like an animal caught in headlights. “What’s it smell like?” he asks, quirking one side of his mouth up. I wet my lips and exhale a pent-up breath. I know what happens next. He leans down further, until the hair on the top of his head tickles my chin and his face is mere inches from my chest. His nose is right at the V in my shirt where my cleavage is exposed. I hear my heartbeat in my ears and my breathing is rapid as I push out small controlled breaths through my mouth. Cody inhales deeply, and as he does, I breathe in, forcing my chest out. I feel the stubble on his face brush against me. I hold my breath there, stilling—wanting this contact I crave so badly. Dragging his nose over the swell of my breast, across my chest, and up the side of my neck, he pauses just beneath my ear. I tilt my head back, and he grabs a handful of my hair. “It smells fucking delicious,” he whispers. I knew he’d like this one. A shiver runs down my spine and ricochets to every part of my body. Never in my wildest dream did I imagine feeling this again and it scares the shit out of me.

  I snap out of it. “What are we doing?” I ask. “This isn’t me. Oh my God, this isn’t me, Cody.” I pant, so caught up in everything. My love for Cody and Dax…my freaking wedding. I am a good person. Lainey Rosemont i
s no cheater, no matter the circumstance. Right? I don’t even recognize myself right now. Cody morphs me into the person I was three years ago. The woman I was with him, before any of this happened.

  Cody runs a hand through his hair. “I know. I know,” he says, averting his eyes. He’s a man and even he is having a hard time with this. “What do you want? Tell me.”

  I can’t tell him the truth. That I want to go against every relationship rule and moral I’ve ever respected. “I have to go,” I say, lying to him, myself, and the beautiful walls of this house. I’m an imposter. I get up and walk to the door, doing my best not to make eye contact. I’ll falter. I want Cody so badly that every fiber in my being is pulling me in the opposite direction. My purse and shoes are under my arm and I’m outside in thirty seconds flat.

  I hear him following. He sighs loudly. “Please don’t go. Stay. We can talk,” Cody says. “I made breakfast. You have to eat.”

  “Right. Talk. Eat breakfast. And then I’ll leave,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from my words. “Just shut the door, please. Shut it.” I’m on this front porch with my back facing the door. “Don’t talk. Just shut the door. That’s what I want.” He does. The heavy wood slides closed and I slump to the floor, sitting with my feet out in front of me. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Cody’s still on my skin and controlling my senses. I run my hands down my face and let myself cry. Just a little. And only because I know I can’t control this. Cody and I have a love that overrules everything, including my petty morals. He didn’t lock the door.

  Standing, I turn and put my forehead against the cool wood. “If I do this there is no going back. I’m that woman. That type of person. Can I live with myself?” I ask myself aloud. The answer is a resounding yes. I’ve done worse—lived through things more horrible. I need him. Opening the door, I push my way in, leaving my things on his porch to find Cody waiting for me. His hands are by his sides and his knowing eyes size me up. We stare at each other, able to have a silent conversation. It requires a certain degree of closeness for that to happen. I’m not sure I have that with Dax and I’m supposed to marry him. Can we have a conversation with just a glance? That answer is a no. This is what I have with Cody and Cody alone. A ghost of a smile crosses Cody’s face. He knew I wasn’t truly leaving—expected that I’d barge back in.

  “This,” he says, pointing between us. “Doesn’t make you a bad person, Lainey. It makes you human. With a pumping heart full of love for a man. Don’t read into any more than that. Okay? It’s not easy for me either. Dax is a brother. He rescued me, for crying out loud. What we have is more. You can’t bottle electricity. It’s impossible. So how about we don’t think about anything else and we let go? No sex.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He wants to, but thinks we shouldn’t. Noted.

  I don’t need to be told twice. The decision was made when I walked back into his world. I leap into his waiting arms and lock my lips with his. He carries me back over to the dining room table and sets me down. His gaze is focused, intent, and concerned.

  “I want you and this, Cody.” His white teeth peek out from behind his wet, pink lips. He’s edible. Leaning down, Cody licks under my ear and then kisses my neck, his hot lips imprinting on my skin. I’ll feel that kiss, that real kiss, on my neck forever. With my hands I reach up and grab his wrists. I have no control over them. I pull myself to stand, and taking that fucking hot dish towel from his shoulder, I wrap it around the back of his neck. With one hand on each end I have full control of his head. I hop up to sit on the table behind me and get on my knees so my gaze is level with his face.

  Cody’s eyes flare with interest, delight, with desire. “I’d rather have you for breakfast anyways,” he says, letting me pull his head toward my own. The kiss on my neck burns with loneliness. I want more. “My turn,” I say, not breaking eye contact. He smiles and that’s the only approval I need. Tugging each end of the towel, I bring his neck to my face and watch his pulse flutter. I’m making him nervous. So far he’s kept his hands down by his sides. Always the gentleman. Gently I press my lips to the exact spot his pulse hammers. I can feel it against my mouth, throbbing.

  He smells like soap and like Cody. I inhale greedily, wanting more. Opening my mouth and placing my hands on the sides of his rough cheeks, I lick up his neck and under his chin and stop when my lips are a breath away from his. Cody opens his eyes and watches me for any clue of what I want to happen next. “You smell fucking delicious, too,” I say, making sure my mouth brushes his as I speak. “I miss you, Cody.” Once his name leaves my mouth, I lean my forehead against his. He bites his lip to keep from closing the distance between our lips. “I want you.” The confession isn’t as hard to make as I thought it would be. I said it out loud. I drop the towel and run my hands through his hair. It causes a riot of emotions. I need to be connected to him.

  “You still the easy trigger, I see?” he growls, grabbing my hips, which I’ve worked overtime in the gym for, in his large hands. The grip is firm, sure. It tells me he not only remembers how to fix my breakfast, but also how to fuck me right into oblivion. I sigh at the heat of his fingers that wrap so perfectly around my body.

  Looking directly into his clear, blue eyes, I confess, “Only for you.” This is another forever moment. Like the time I said yes on top of a mountain and the first time he kissed me senseless after a Christmas party at my house, or the time we made love under the stars at an abandoned baseball field at night because we couldn’t wait to get home—this is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve been home since he died.

  He swallows and sucks in a deep breath. “You want me to fuck you right here on this table?”

  Chapter Eight

  Cody

  I want to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her until my dick falls off and I know she’s mine forever. Right now. Right here on this table I paid way too much money for. I will think of it as the ‘got lucky’ table from this day forth…a treasure to keep in the family for generations to come. Lainey has this incredibly petite body, all toned, tight and ready to rock. Time has treated her well. With my hands on her hips, I can feel her shiver each time I dig my fingers into her pale skin. Her long blonde hair falls in a particular way over her shoulders and down her back. Not quite wavy, not quite curly or straight, either—just perfectly so. Her parted lips are pink and full and glistening wet in invitation. When I first met her I assumed she was one of those women who know exactly how attractive they are. Upon further investigation, I realized she has no clue how her wide blue eyes make men crazy, all doe like and innocent with a razor’s edge of sex. Sex. She’s looking at me with those black-fringed sex eyes right now, begging for it—wanting me. She puts her small hands on the back of my head and runs her fingers through my hair. I groan.

  Lainey finally responds to my question about fucking on the table. “Kiss me,” she whispers, the sweet air from her mouth invading my space. Yes. A million times yes. I’ve waited years for this moment—dreamed about it when I was chained to a wall in a dank room with nothing to live for. I lived for her lips, knowing full well I’d probably never feel them again. She takes on a dreamlike quality. If I snap my fingers, will she disappear? Cradling her head in both of my hands, I lean down and bring my lips to hers. She moans into my mouth and responds right away by tilting her neck and sliding her hands down my chest, and down to the top of my jeans. I still, just a second, because I haven’t been touched intimately in a long time and my senses are all over the fucking place. This is really happening. I have my Lainey again. She pauses, and I don’t want that, so I put more force into the kiss, twining my tongue with hers, letting her know I’m okay. It’s a familiar dance we both know well. She responds by leaning into me and pulling the top of my jeans toward her. I bring her back against the table, capturing her lips as she clings to me, pulling my weight on top of her.

  Leaning back, I break the kiss and look at her. Stroking a piece of her blonde hair out of her face, I say, “This is real.” Earlier she wanted to ask
me about V and my time away. I could tell. She didn’t. Lainey showing restraint is a bad work of art.

  She looks just as mystified and excited. “This is so real,” she replies, her eyes sparkling. “You should probably move my breakfast,” she says quickly, keeping her hands wrapped around my neck. I need to catch my breath, so I take this opportunity to extricate myself and move the plate. The second I release her, she slides her shorts and panties off. I must look like a feral dog that has gone weeks without food as I stare at her. She smiles a knowing smile. “It’s okay, I won’t bite. We should probably take it slow.” Quirking her head to the side, she bites her lip. Quite the opposite of what she just said, she peels her shirt and bra off and tosses them to the opposite end of the long table.

  My jeans are already unbuttoned due to her handiwork, so I make light work of pulling my shirt off and approach her slowly—very slowly. I want to see every square inch of her to know if she still looks the same. The freckle by her belly button is still there, the scar on her ankle from ankle surgery is lighter, her tits—her gloriously natural tits—are pert and the perfect size. They fit in my hands like they were made for me. Lainey leans back and gives me this perfect bird’s-eye view and then she lets her knees fall apart. My cock is straining against my jeans, and now that her shaved pussy is on full display I’m wasted with desire.

  This may seem like an odd time to think about another man, but Dax slips in nonetheless. I can remind myself a million times that Lainey is mine, that she’s always been mine, that we would be living happily ever after right now if not for V and his vindictive ways, and I’d still feel a twinge of guilt. She’s been his for the stolen years. I called Dax. We spoke of Lainey and how he wants her to know she has options. He wants to win her fair and square. I didn’t have the heart to tell him fair and square loses every single time. The option that Lainey is exercising at the moment has my mouth watering and my dick rapt at attention. A stronger man, a man with more integrity, would resist. I was stripped of everything, integrity included. I just want back what is rightfully mine.