by Kris Calvert
The wrap around porch was stately and reminded me of a ski lodge—the whole outside of the house was rustic and I understood the man reference. It was the most secluded place I’d ever been outside of summer camp in rural Maine when I was a kid. There wasn’t a street lamp or a sound of civilization for miles.
King used a computer key code to open the door and waited for me to enter.
Stepping from the entrance hall and into a sunken great room, the walls were wooden and the décor early American testosterone. All leather and wood, there were big screen televisions on the walls. King wasn’t joking. “You’re right. This is nothing like your home in Shadeland.”
King looked around the big room and smiled as if he were getting acquainted with an old friend once again. “Would you like a glass of wine?
“That would be nice.” I walked around the space filled with plush sectional couches, heavy wooden end tables and antlers on the walls.
“Dinner should be just about ready,” he said as he pulled a bottle from a wine shelf and inspected it carefully.
“Really?” I looked around the empty room. “Where?”
King held out his hand, leading me to the back of the house. The entire western facing front was made of glass and I could see the sun starting to set over the marsh and lake. On the back deck was a traditionally set table with a mound of red roses, candles and torches lighting the serene dinner scene. “How did you manage all of this on such short notice?”
“I have talented and willing friends,” he replied as he held out his hand for me to walk ahead. “Shall we?”
Opening the door onto the deck, the breeze caught me off guard and I caught my breath as King sat the wine bottle on the table and came up behind me. Wrapping his strong arms around my waist he held me tightly, nestling his chin into my neck. The sun was just about to dip into the horizon and like the fleeting light, I felt myself going to a dark place. I felt lost in my future, lost in tonight and lost in King’s charms.
“You know,” he began as he swayed our bodies back and forth in the gentle breeze. “There’s a legend about the lights on the swamp when the sun goes to bed in the Bayou. Feu Follet—foolish fire.”
“Really?”
“It’s a luminous, ghostly light that magically appears in the swamps. Legend says if you try to follow it, the light will retreat, leading you deeper into the swamps until you are hopelessly lost.”
“It’s a trap.” I thought of how I was blindly following King as he led me deeper and deeper into a world I had no control over.
“What?” he asked turning me to face him. “No.”
“Then what?”
“Many think if you can reach the light you’ll find a great treasure.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think it’s a gift to be appreciated,” he said pulling me close to him by my elbows. “If it felt right, I would follow it. I would follow it even if I got hopelessly lost.”
“Why?”
“Because even the hope of something amazing is better than nothing at all.”
I nodded and hugged him tightly. Was the hope of a relationship with King better than nothing at all? Was letting him into my heart not knowing the consequences, real? Or was it merely like the light over the swamp, foolish fire.
I rolled the past three days over in my head and felt a pit grow in my stomach. “I’m not very hungry,” I confessed, whispering into his ear. “Are you?”
“I can have Aurelia bring our dinner inside and keep it warm. What did you have in mind?”
I ran my hands down his lapels, his bulky muscles flinching under his shirt and sport coat. “Why don’t you show me the rest of the house?”
“With pleasure.”
23
KING
Taking Reagan by the hand, I led her up the staircase and to the master suite. My bedroom at the lake house wasn’t all that different from the one at Rose Hill. I liked my sleeping and love making quarters to be minimalistic. The king sized bed sat alone in the center of the room—the Tantra chair in the corner. I knew Reagan would have something to say about it, but I hoped that the ambiance I’d requested would quell any notion she had that my bedroom was only for sex.
Opening the door, the light from hundreds of candles lit the dark room. When I heard Reagan gasp, I knew I’d hit a homerun.
“What? How the?” she asked turning around to look at me.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m full of surprises.”
“Yes, you are.”
Closing the door behind us, I followed her to the bank of windows that overlooked the now dark purple sky. She placed her hand on the window and leaned into it—the fading light casting a shadow across her body that gave me chills. Laying my hand on top of hers, I matched her stance, caressing her hip and perfect bottom as I breathed into her open back.
“I’m nervous.” Her voice trembled and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was anxious too. So much had transpired in the last few days and the whirlwind of activity was enough to make any man go mad. Instead, it had caused me to fall in love.
There it was. I admitted it to myself. It wasn’t that I feared death in the next couple of days—although I did. But I had a certain amount of command over that emotion—I’d been trained to. What I feared was not seeing Reagan again. And that was something I had no control over.
She whispered, refusing to look me in the face. “So how do we do this?”
“How do we do what?” I ran my hands along her muscular backside, and longed to have her in my arms.
“C’mon King. This is your area of expertise. I’m fine with being your willing student, but don’t patronize me. We both know what we’re up here to do.”
Taking her by the shoulders, I turned her around to face me. “We’re here to find each other Reagan. We’re not here for any other reason. I’m searching for you,” I murmured as I touched her face. “I want into Reagan’s mind—into her soul.”
“And what should she want?”
“Whatever she feels. There’s no right or wrong here. No black or white. This,” I said. “We are a blank canvas and whatever art we make tonight we will have for the rest of our lives. No matter what happens, we will always have this moment together. Nothing can alter that, nothing can spoil it.”
“I don’t know what I feel,” Reagan said looking to the floor.
Taking her hand once again, I led her to the bed and sat her down. “Then let’s talk.”
Her hands trembled in mine and I realized what a precious gift Reagan was—what a gift she was giving to me. “I’m going to tell you all the things I love about Reagan Weatherford.”
She let out a tiny nervous laugh and looked away for a moment before bringing her gaze back to me. The tears in her eyes touched my heart. “I love that you are tough—like the tight bud of a rose. You can withstand a lot of rain, a lot of storms. But when you let your guard down and allow yourself to be taken care of, even the slightest bit, you blossom into an even more glorious version of yourself.”
She didn’t say anything, but nodded, her eyes glistening.
“I love that you’re honest—with yourself and with me. You’re not afraid to take chances, to take risks.”
“Like wearing vibrating panties while on assignment?”
I couldn’t contain my smile. “Exactly like that. You’re kind and considerate. You love your job and…and…”
“What?” she whispered. “Have you run out of things to say?”
I shook my head. “No. I just don’t want to frighten you.”
“Frighten me how?”
“By telling you how I really feel.”
Reagan shifted her weight on the goose down bed to face me and I sat down beside her. “King, I know after tonight, you may never want to see me again. You’ve even said that you haven’t had relationships—that you have partners who follow certain rules with you. But I’m not like that.”
“I know.” I brushed her warm
cheek with the back of my fingers.
“So I’m fully prepared to be with you tonight and never see you again. So don’t think you will scare me. You won’t. I get it, King. I’m letting you off the hook.”
“No, Reagan. You don’t understand.” I begged her to stand with me. If I was going to tell her the truth, I wanted to look her in the eye. I wanted to hold her in my arms. I wanted to be connected to her in every way I could be.
“What don’t I understand King?”
“That I’m falling—” I hesitated for only a moment as the words caught in my throat. “In love. With you.”
The expression on her face changed from self-assured to confused, “What did you just say?”
“I said, I’m falling in love with you.”
“Why?”
It wasn’t the response I expected. I’d waited most of my life to say those words to the woman of my dreams. “Why?” I repeated. “I don’t know why. Because I am. Because I’ve thought of nothing but you since the moment I met you. Because you drive me crazy wild and we’ve not even had sex—which I’m very happy about because now we can make love.”
“I’m so confused.” She walked away from me, pacing the room. “I thought you only wanted to be with me like …you know…your other girls.”
I shook my head. I’d laid my heart out on the line and now Reagan was making me feel like a prize idiot. “You’re too good for that, Reagan.”
“King.” She said my name as if it was a dirty word that needed to be whispered in mixed company. It was the perfect blend of shock and aversion. “In the past forty-eight hours two dead women have shown up with your stink all over them. Not to mention the fact that every time it happens, I get orders to ignore it after someone way higher than me in Washington makes it all go away.”
I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her everything, but I couldn’t. It was my duty. It was my job. It was my curse. “I had nothing to do with Tina or Joy dying. I didn’t kill them.”
“Then why does someone want me to think you did?”
“It’s a tactic to get me out of the way. If I’m tied up being questioned as a murder suspect, I can’t do my job.”
“What?” she said throwing her hands in the air. “You can’t prescribe medicine to ailing little old ladies?”
I didn’t say a word. I stood silent, staring at her. Hoping with all my heart she would figure it out on her own.
“Unless…”
She stopped her mindless pacing and turned to me. “Unless you’re not who you say you are, King Giles.”
I stared at her stone faced. I couldn’t say a word—nor would I. I couldn’t jeopardize the years of work I’d put in, not to mention the mission I was leaving for in thirty-six hours.
“Are you really a doctor?” she asked, taking off her stilettos and tossing them to the corner.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you have more than one job?” she asked, now circling my body like a predator.
“Yes.”
“Ha! I knew it.”
“I have my private practice and I have my position at Autumn Valley—the retirement home.”
“Oh.” Her brief moment of omnipotence was over. “That’s not what I meant.”
I stopped her from walking in a circle and pulled her to me. Gently tugging at her hair, I tilted her head back and began to kiss her. Softly at first, but then passionately. With each stroke of my tongue against her willing mouth, I felt her relinquish the fight.
Picking her up and laying her on the bed, I took off my sport coat and tossed it in the corner with her heels before climbing on top of her. “You know what?”
“What?” she asked.
“I love that you’re so smart, but you talk way too much and don’t listen enough.”
I kissed her hard, feeding from the sweetness of her mouth as I moved my hand across her body in a fluid motion.
“I know,” she said coming up for air. “I’m sorry. I just need to know. You know?”
I nodded, sitting back on my heels as I straddled her tiny body. Taking her hands I placed them on my shirt, silently begging her to unbutton me.
Without another word, she obliged me. With painstaking care, she opened each button completely before moving on to the next.
Reagan made it to the bottom button pulling my shirttail from my jeans.
“Do you know what I love about you, King?”
“What?”
“Your ability to keep a secret.”
24
REAGAN
I gazed up at the devilishly handsome man astride my body. King Giles was an undercover government operative. I was unsure of which branch he was working for—it could be CIA, it could be deep cover FBI. King Giles could even be on the NOC list—the jobs so deep under cover no one ever knows who they are. It was all so clear to me now. It was a clear as the sky above my head in the windows that served as the ceiling of King’s bedroom.
“Wow.” It was all I could say as I gazed at the early stars that had punched a hole in the evening sky. The interesting view from his bed reminded me that he had a different idea of what sex was all about, but he wasn’t a murderer. I’d been crazy for him since the moment I laid eyes on him. The idea that he was clean, honest and a good man suddenly put him on a pedestal for me and I wasted no time doing what I wanted to do—make love to King Giles.
Pushing his shirt over his muscled shoulders, I watched his arms twitch with each subtle movement of his body.
Taking my hands, King lifted me off the bed, asking me to stand. When I placed my hands on his belt buckle, he stopped me.
“It’s my turn.” His deep voice was dry and full of intent.
I nodded and took one step away from him. The red dress was tight against my body and I’d not worn a bra. I’d barely worn panties.
He quickly sized me up, taking my arms and placing them over my head. Leaning down, he grabbed the hem of my bandage dress and pulled it over my head, leaving me naked except for a pair of white lace thong underwear. They didn’t have King’s monogram, but they were still all his tonight.
Playing this moment over and over in my head for the last few years, I always imagined I would feel exposed—naked—like I did as a young girl on that dingy bed. But I didn’t. I stared into King’s eyes and saw only respect, dignity and love. It was comforting and yet fulfilling.
He stroked my arms from the shoulders down to my hands. “You’re exquisite. I want to make love to your mind, body and soul, Reagan.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only nod in agreement.
King unbuckled his belt and pulled the black leather through the pants loops of his dark jeans. When he went for the top button, I placed my hands on top of his, tacitly asking to repeat our shared experience.
Dropping his hands to his side, I unbuttoned the top of his jeans, unzipping him without reservation and in one motion. As I suspected, he was commando.
“Underwear?”
“Never cared for it.”
With slow and casual indifference I shrugged my shoulders. “Who needs it anyway?”
“Not us,” he whispered as he took me in his arms and I pushed his jeans over his hips and to the ground.
Stroking my breast with his open hand, King paused at my hardened nipples and teased my body into a frenzied bundle of nerves. I released my head in sublime submission. Then, taking me by the wrist, he placed my hand on his hot distended flesh. and I felt him respond to the coolness of my fingertips as his body flinched, and a soft moan to escaped his mouth.
I whispered one word. “Yes.”
Falling to his knees, I watched his sex bob under the weight of his thick erection and looked away when I felt myself staring. I stroked the softness of his tightly shaven beard as he lifted his face to gaze up at me.
“It’s all for you, love,” King drawled, kissing my stomach. “There’s nothing wrong with you staring at your own handiwork. This is what you do to me.”
I nodded and swa
llowed hard. I’d done the work necessary to make myself mentally ready for this moment most of my adult life, but as it was happening, I realized it was impossible to prepare for the metaphysical act of intimacy that is making love. It was the kind of magic that only feelings could describe—feelings you couldn’t name in any human language. It just was.
Hooking his capable hands inside the lace of my panties, he slid them to the ground, taking in every inch of my body as he exposed it.
Lifting each of my feet one by one, I stepped out of my last line of defense against the gallant King Giles and into a sacred space where everything I did with my body, every desire I acted upon, was my own doing—my own decision. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship with King, but even more importantly, with myself and my own womanhood.
Taking his time, he stood to meet my face and without touching any other part of my body, placed his wet lips sweetly on my open mouth.
“I’m going to carry you to the bed, Reagan, then I’m going to shower your body with kisses. This is for you and only you. There’s no need to touch me—not yet.”
“But,” I protested in a soft whimper.
“No buts.”
Picking me up off the floor he carried me back to the tall and fluffy bed. There were only sheets and pillows and it was clear to me the bed was love-making ready as he placed my head on a pillow with care, straightening out my legs and arms.
A wave of excitement rolled through my core. I felt my body vibrate as if in tune with the hum of the earth itself as he pressed his muscular body against me—parting my legs with his own. “I want to taste you,” he growled.
I moaned in agreement, bringing my hands to his shoulders, only to have him remove them. “Not yet,” he said placing them one by one above my head.
He settled between my legs and I closed my eyes and opened them again only to find the glass windows above the bed were now mirrors. “Oh my God. Wait.”
King kissed the inside of my thighs and looked up at me with an innocent smile before whispering a promise. “I’ll go slow. We can stop anytime you’d like. Tonight, this is all about you.”
