by June Gray
I walked over to him, stood on my toes so that we were eye-to-eye and whispered, “Liar.”
He pulled away and maneuvered around me. “Please go,” he said, motioning to the door. “You’re just making this hard on yourself.”
I looked down at his shorts pointedly. “It looks like I’m not the only one finding this . . . hard.”
His nostrils flared as he stalked to the edge of the bed and yanked on a pair of sweat pants. “What do you want from me, Elsie? God, why can’t you leave well enough alone?”
“What do I want from you?” I asked, allowing the anger to seep into my voice. “How about some honesty? How about not making me feel like an idiot for missing you?”
It seemed Henry was angry too, though I couldn’t fathom why when I was the one being lied to. “If I said I missed you, would that make you feel better?”
“It might hurt less than your lies,” I said. “You lied to me back in high school and you’re lying to me now.”
“I’m leaving, Els. I won’t be back for a year.”
I could barely speak, but I managed to breathe out, “I know.”
“I’m trying to stay away. For your sake,” he said, but even as he spoke he began to advance toward me. He reached out and gently placed his hands on my arms.
I ignored the tingling on my skin and said, “You’re always trying to protect me from the truth. That’s not what I want.”
“Do you really want the truth, Els?”
“Yes. I want you to admit that you want me too.”
He swallowed hard. “Wanting you was never the problem,” he said. His gaze was the blue of a stormy ocean and I knew that if I looked too long I’d get caught in the undertow. I closed my eyes, hoping to avoid getting pulled under.
In the next moment, his lips touched mine and ignited something deep in my belly. I moaned and opened my mouth, drowning in the kiss. Henry didn’t hold back. He grasped the back of my head and kissed me loudly, groaning into the heart of me.
All of a sudden he jerked back. “We can’t do this.” He rubbed his head as he paced the room, then sank onto the edge of the bed. “We shouldn’t . . .”
I’d anticipated the classic Henry move of toeing in and jumping right back out. I was prepared. “Shouldn’t what?” I asked, slipping out of my jacket and letting it fall to the floor.
His head jerked up to watch me, his jaw muscles tightening.
I grasped the hem of my sweater and pulled it over my head, revealing the black lacy bra that he’d loved so much.
“Elsie . . .” he said through his unsteady breathing.
I held his eye as I unzipped my pencil skirt and slid it down my legs. “Tell me to stop,” I said, kicking the skirt aside, leaving me in my underwear and heels. My heart was thundering in my chest. I’d never done anything so bold and had never felt sexier. The wonderstruck expression on his face said as much. “I dare you.”
His nostrils flared when I sauntered closer. I grasped the sides of his head and forced him to look up at me, forced him to face the woman he’d tried to lie to repeatedly over the years. He should have learned by now that you can act the part convincingly but you can never run away from your own truth.
“Elsie . . .” he said, letting the end of my name thin out.
“Yes, Henry?”
“What are you trying to do?”
I ran my fingernails along his scalp. “Make you admit to the truth.”
He palmed my legs and slid his hands around to the back of my thighs, fingering the edge of my lace panties. “You want me to be honest?” he asked, pressing his lips to my trembling stomach. He grasped my butt and slid his fingers inside my panties. “You want me to do exactly what I want and just forget the consequences?”
I nodded, willing his fingers to move closer to my center.
“I don’t—Ah, fuck it.” He surged to his feet and took me captive with his mouth as his hands cradled my face. I reached behind him and pulled him closer to me, rocking my hips into his.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked, pressing his hard length into my stomach. Before I could answer, he flipped me around so that my back was pressed to his bare chest. His hand snaked up to my neck and forced my head to the side, his mouth devouring mine again. “I will want you always,” he rasped, pressing kisses down my neck.
I said nothing as he unsnapped my bra and let it fall to the floor. I’d said all I needed to say and had proved my point: Henry never stopped wanting me. Now my body was on autopilot, simply retracing gestures from the past. I refused to think so that I wouldn’t have to feel. Maybe then I could survive this encounter with my heart intact.
He slipped his thumbs into the waist of my panties and slid them over my butt, his rough hands caressing my skin at every juncture. Then he splayed a hand in the middle of my back. “Bend over,” he said and pushed me down onto the bed, exposing my privates.
His hands slipped between my legs and he spread me apart as easily as parting curtains. He bent over me and pressed a kiss at the base of my spine. I started when he bit one cheek. He chuckled and bit the other one.
My legs nearly buckled when his tongue slid through my folds. I gripped the sheets in my hands and smothered my moan into the covers. After all this time, he still knew how to set my body on fire.
His mouth and tongue worked me over, hard and insistent, making me almost come when he issued a rumbling groan that I felt down to my core. Then he was gone, the sudden chill a stark contrast to the warmth of his mouth a second earlier.
I heard the slide of fabric and a moment later the head of his cock pressed at my entrance. “Say it,” he rasped against my ear as he slid the tip up and down my slick folds. “Say you want me inside you.”
“Just put it in,” I very nearly growled.
He gave a startled laugh before pushing in an inch. He withdrew then pushed back in farther, stretching me. He withdrew again and with that third stroke, slid all the way home. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned.
A sigh escaped from my lips. To feel him inside me, filling me up again like only he could was a pleasure I never thought I’d feel again.
His fingers dug into my waist as he thrust in and out at a languorous pace. I bucked against him, trying to take control and make him go faster. Anytime now I was going to wake up and realize that I’d just been dreaming; I wanted an orgasm out of the deal at the very least. “Fuck me already,” I cried.
He gripped my hips and complied, but it still didn’t feel nearly enough. I reached around and grabbed onto his muscular thigh, urging him to go faster, harder.
“So demanding,” he said through his teeth and thrust in even deeper, connecting with my core. Then he slapped my ass and made me involuntarily clench. He stilled for a moment then smacked me again, eliciting the same tightening reaction. “Fuck, Elsie,” he moaned a moment before he began to pound me again, harder and harder until I was flying, soaring toward the sky. When he reached around and massaged my clit, I shattered into a shower of white-hot sparks, the fireworks going on and on while he worked me from behind.
My convulsing took him over the edge and he crushed his body against mine as he came, his orgasm punctuated by a low, prolonged growl. Afterward we collapsed on the bed and tried to catch our breath.
I felt vindicated but the triumph didn’t last long. Even though Henry was inside me, filling me up, the gaping hole in my chest was still present because all of this was just a lie. We were just two people pretending at making love.
Henry didn’t linger for very long. After a few minutes, he pulled away from me and went to the bathroom, coming back a few seconds later with a damp towel in his hands. He rolled me over, crouched at the end of the bed and proceeded to gently wipe the inside of my thighs with the warm rag, never once meeting my eyes.
When he was done, he threw the rag aside and crawled over my p
rone body, still naked and glorious in his masculinity. He stooped over me, his hands on either side of my shoulders as his eyes raked me over.
My heart thundered in my chest at the look on his face, a heady mixture of lust and something else, maybe regret. I crawled backward on the bed, trying to find an escape route but the pillows and the headboard stopped my retreat.
“Do you need more proof that I want you?” he asked.
I nodded despite myself. I think deep down I knew that I would always need proof. He had broken me, made me question everything I ever relied on. Henry had made a cynic of a dreamer.
He sat back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs, and showed me just how much he wanted me. Again.
I gazed up at the pure beauty of him, from his broad chest and muscular arms down to the six-pack that ended with those sexy hip indentations guys have, and finally to his thick shaft that pointed straight up, ready for round two.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who’d been silently appraising because he said, “God, you’re beautiful.” He wrapped one hand around his cock and stroked himself, his dark eyebrows drawing together as his breathing deepened. His eyes roamed over my body, making my skin overheat with warring emotions of desire and discomfort.
I leaned up on my elbows. “What are you doing?”
The corner of his mouth curled up. “Admiring you,” he said. He tilted his cock forward, offering it to me. “You want to take over?”
I stifled a smile. “No. I’d rather watch you.”
His insolent smile evaporated when he returned to the task at hand, the furrows in his eyebrows deepening as he altered his grip.
My entire body tingled as I watched him, completely and hopelessly turned on. Henry had full command of his masculinity and knew the exact ways to wield it over my body.
“Touch yourself.”
His husky words shot straight to my crotch and created a pressure that needed releasing. I swiped my hand along my stomach and then down to my mound, all the while flashing him with what I hoped was a seductive look.
“Yes, right there,” he said as my middle finger flicked at my clit. “Put one inside you.”
I slipped my finger inside me, pushing it all the way in, then pulling it back out.
His gaze was steady and dark. “Now two.”
I slipped another finger in, never once losing eye contact as my other hand reached up to play with my breast, tweaking my nipple over and over.
His breathing became erratic as his hand pumped faster. I too sped up, intent on keeping the pace. He wasn’t about to cross that finish line first.
As if sensing my renewed vigor, he stroked faster, the lines on his forehead drawing deeper the more he concentrated.
I felt the pressure building inside me as I watched his face contort, sure that my own was doing the same. Our eyes were locked in a heated exchange. I didn’t need words to know what he was thinking. In that moment, as we pleasured ourselves, we were lost together in the thick fog of passion and heartache.
The intimacy was too much for Henry to bear, and he closed his eyes as he started to come.
“Look at me,” I said with a raw voice. “Henry, look at me.”
When he opened his eyes, they were filled with so much emotion I almost burst into tears. Instead I let go, my insides pulsing around my fingers as the orgasm racked my body. Amidst it all, I felt a strange sense of finality, as if releasing that orgasm somehow released my stranglehold on the memory of us.
“I’m coming,” he said, then let out a groan as he climaxed, his seed spilling onto the covers. He never looked away from me, even as he crouched over and caught his breath, or when he reached for the rag and wiped at the puddle he’d made.
When he was done, he collapsed beside me with a sigh. He grasped my wrist and brought my hand up to his lips, but before he could say anything that would make me start to care for him again, I rolled away and climbed off the bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked as I pulled on my underwear.
“Leaving,” I said matter-of-fact.
“You’re not going to stay?”
“Why?” I turned to him. “You know I don’t like long good-byes.”
His dark eyebrows drew together.
I swallowed hard, then shook my head. “Henry, we’re not . . .” I wanted to say we weren’t the same people as before, but some things didn’t need to be said in order to be heard.
“I know, but I thought we could talk.” He sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, quietly watching me as I finished getting dressed.
“There’s not much left to say, Henry.”
He caught my hand as I turned away. “Just . . . stay,” he said, his face open and imploring.
“I can’t,” I said. “There’s no point. You’re leaving.”
He nodded and let me go. I didn’t even kiss him good-bye. I just walked to the door with my purse clutched tightly to my side like a life preserver.
“Bye, Henry,” I said as I opened the door. “I hope you find yourself in Korea.”
3
RETURN TO BASE
Henry was gone again. Story of my life.
The shell I’d created around my heart had not been enough to keep me from feeling something for Henry again. I thought my heart could be detached from my body, but it seemed I was wrong.
And so the process of surviving a breakup began once more.
I had to keep reminding myself to move on. People lost the love of their lives every day, sometimes to things more permanent. I was no different from, no more special than those countless others nursing broken hearts, and wallowing in my grief was not the way I wanted my story told. So I tried to find pleasure in the small things, like the aroma of a fresh bag of coffee beans or the slide of silk on my legs after shaving. I wasn’t anywhere near happy yet, but I was nearing content.
When you’ve resigned yourself to your fate, when you’ve really decided to move on, time passes in the blink of an eye.
* * *
I started to date again. One of my coworkers set me up on a blind date with a single friend and I had agreed out of curiosity. The guy was named Seth and he had short blond hair, green eyes, and a dimpled smile. For our first date, he took me to Dave & Buster’s, a restaurant and game arcade, and after dinner we took our alcoholic beverages and walked around, playing the games together.
Being with Seth was easy. He gave me plenty of space, laughed a lot, and didn’t ask too many personal questions. He liked to play the shootout basketball games and didn’t let me win even one, always nudging me at the end and saying, “Good effort.”
At the end of the night he walked me to my doorstep and managed to appear both bashful and incredibly sexy as he looked at me, no doubt trying to gauge his chances at a kiss.
It had been ten months since Henry left for Korea; it was about damn time I finally allowed someone else into my heart. So I decided to give him a chance to kiss me.
He touched the side of my face and bent his head, bringing his mouth to mine, gently exploring before I parted my lips and allowed him inside. The kiss was gentle and sweet and held promise, everything that a first kiss ought to be.
Afterward, he ran a hand through his hair and said, “I really like you, Elsie.”
I looked at his earnest face and decided that he could very well be the guy to help me get over Henry. “I like you too, Seth,” I told him, which was the truth.
He smiled, revealing his dimples. “Do you want to do something tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” I said as he began to walk away backward.
“I’ll call you later.” And he did. He called exactly one hour and fifteen minutes later.
* * *
Seth became my boyfriend a few weeks after that date. He called me nearly every night and we talked for hours about everything. In the interest o
f full disclosure, I told him about Henry, and Seth, in turn, told me about his past relationships. Our conversations flowed easily, and he was just so funny. The humor was what drew me to him, how he could make me laugh and forget about the past.
He worked at Dell as a software engineer. The fact that he also worked with computers, albeit in a slightly different manner from me, was one thing we bonded over. I liked to think we were geek kindred spirits.
Still, every time he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me I felt disconnected, as if I were just an observer instead of an active participant. I remained hopeful. I clutched him tighter, kissed him deeper, sure that, given some time, I would finally feel for him what he felt about me.
* * *
To celebrate our third month together, Seth took me to Chili’s, of all places. It wasn’t my first choice for a date but I didn’t want to have to talk about Henry on a night when we were celebrating our relationship, so I just shut up and grinned.
“I’m not a cheapskate, promise,” he said as he pushed in my chair. He sat down across the table from me and flashed that dimpled grin again. “I just really like their ribs.”
My heart ached at the memories brought on by those damn baby-back ribs, but I’d gotten good at ignoring it by then.
I sat across from Seth, stealing little looks over our drinks. He was very handsome tonight in a light blue button-down shirt, the sleeves folded up to his elbows, and gray slacks, his hair slightly tousled. But as attractive as he was, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that he would make a wonderful husband for a lucky woman someday.
“Here’s to us,” he said, lifting his pint glass.
I clinked my iced tea with his beer and smiled.
He set down his drink, his face taking on a serious expression. He leaned across the table and held my hands. “Elsie, there’s something I have to tell you,” he said. “I’ve felt this way for a long time now, but I’ve been too afraid to say it because of . . . you know, your past.”
