“Oh my God! Are you jealous that your daughter likes him more than she likes you?” I pursed my lips to squelch my laughter. But fuck! This was adorable. Even I could acknowledge that.
This time he turned his glare at me. I nudged him with my shoulder again. “Would you relax? He’s just a boy.”
“I know what boys are like.” He caught the ball again and this time passed it over to Katie, who almost missed it but didn’t. Her whole face lit up as she looked at her crush. But he barely paid attention as he gestured for her to pass the ball.
“And what are they like?”
“Horny, arrogant, players. Every single one of them.”
I full-on laughed this time. “First, let’s acknowledge this moment for a second, because I actually agree with you there.” He shot me a disgruntled look. “And second, even though I do agree, I don’t think that boy even knows the meaning of the word horny.”
“He knows.”
“No, he doesn’t. What ten-year-old guy knows the meaning of horny? I’m sure he still eats PBJ and thinks that his thing is majorly used for peeing.”
“It is majorly used for urinating, yes. The other function is secondary.”
“Okay, I don’t want a science lesson,” I muttered as the ball flew our way and James caught it easily before passing it over. “But you’re over-reacting. It’s just a little crush.”
“I don’t trust him.” He glared at the subject, who was completely oblivious to his looks.
“You’re acting crazy.” I crossed my hands over my chest. “Okay, tell me. Did you know, when you were ten, that your thing is used for other…things?”
He remained silent, and I gasped as the realization set in. “You did know! Wow!” Not knowing what to say but wanting to say something, I repeated myself. “Wow! That’s…wow. Okay.”
“I read about it when I was eight,” he explained. “I was looking for some light reading.”
“And you picked a porno magazine?”
He shook his head, disgusted. “No, it was a sex ed book. It was lying around my mother’s desk.”
“That’s…incredible. You knew about sex when you were eight. Even I didn’t know about it when I was that age. I think I knew when I was nine or ten.”
“So? Why is that incredible?” His attention was solely on me now, the ball game forgotten.
“Well, you know, because you’re you.” I waved my hand at him. “And I’m me. I mean, I’m the bad guy, the evil queen, corrupted, selfish, a shrew, basically. God! I could go on and on. Anyway, you’re the good guy. You didn’t even know the meaning of ‘fuck’ before you met me.”
“I did know the meaning of it,” he reminded me. “I just chose not to use it.”
“See? The good guy. You don’t curse, you’re always feeling guilty for the things you do, and the things you don’t do but apparently feel responsible for. You love your daughter like crazy.” I looked up at him. “You are the good guy. In fact, too good for your own good.”
“Bad guys don’t keep reminding others that they’re bad.” He smiled.
“Well, this bad guy does.”
We stood staring at each other, dumbfounded, in our own world. I never wanted to look away from him. What was happening?
“What do we have here?”
A voice burst the bubble around us, and we both looked at the intrusion. It was Julia, smiling, watching the scene before her with caution in her eyes. That was when I realized James and I had gotten so close, closer than was necessary. Jerking away from him, I walked over to Julia, who bent and pecked me on the lips.
Remember the fear I talked about, the fear of losing myself in James? Well, I shouldn’t have worried about it at all. Because every time I’d been in danger of losing myself, Julia was there to pull me back to reality.
The first day when I’d gotten back from our rendezvous, Julia had been in the kitchen. She turned around when she heard me come inside. Her eyes swept up and down my body, noticing every cut and scrape. In my haste, I’d forgotten to clean myself up. Shit.
“What happened to you?” she asked, coming toward me.
Fucking shit.
“I fell.”
“While running?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Julia ushered me inside the kitchen, sat me down on a stool, and then proceeded to clean my wounds. The wounds I got while fucking James. My body burned with shame and guilt, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d been rubbing on my scratches. After that, I made sure to clean up at the resort’s bathroom and wear clothes that hid my scrapes.
But I shouldn’t have bothered, because every night since then, Julia had held me down and fucked me with her tongue, making me come. Every night, I chanted my denial in my head. And every night I lay there immobile as she took her revenge for cheating and made me betray James.
And if that wasn’t enough, she got the decorating bug one day and filled our once-empty fireplace mantel with my mother’s pictures. She was everywhere I looked, and it killed me every time I walked inside that home.
That home. Yeah, it didn’t feel like mine anymore.
“Hey, I was just taking a break,” I told Julia.
“It’s okay. I know you can’t sleep well these days.”
I glanced at James. He stood watching our encounter with hardened eyes, his hands inside his pockets.
“Hi, James,” Julia said, out of the blue. “Would you mind if I stole Madison for lunch?” She looked at Katie distractedly before boring her eyes into him.
He was angry. I could see it. His jaw ticked, and his posture had gone rigid. Classic sign of James’ brand of anger.
For some reason, I wanted to see what he’d say. As if there was anything to say other than, No I don’t mind. Do whatever you want with her. She’s yours. I only borrow her when everyone is asleep.
“She’s all yours,” he said, as if plucking thoughts out of my head. That…thief!
I should’ve protested. The way they talked about me as if I wasn’t even there. Hello, I wasn’t a doormat. It was the other way around usually. But all I could do was stand there with a sharp pain in my chest. Why? He didn’t do anything unexpected. He spoke the truth. No harm in telling the truth, right?
****
That night I set out for my run earlier than usual. Julia was still sleeping, and as I was getting out of bed, I wondered what I’d tell her if she woke up right now. Maybe I’d finally confess the truth just to get it over with. But she didn’t wake up and I was free to roam the streets in the dark.
I reached the lake fifteen minutes later, and walking up to the edge, I glanced over the water. I was going to expose James’ skinny-dipping tonight. Don’t ask me why. It was just something I had to do. But right now, my idea seemed stupid. I didn’t even know if he’d be here tonight. Besides, the lake was miles long. How would I know where to look? But look I would.
I ran my gaze all over, looking for any signs of movement and listening for splashes. But so far it was dead, the crunch of my sneakers was the only sound.
Then I heard a sudden splash up ahead, followed by heavy pants. It was James. He’d just come out of the lake, running his fingers through his hair, blinking water out of his eyes. The droplets over his chest shone under the moonlight. He looked like a silver ghost, a handsome, enchanting ghost. I stared at him like my life depended on it. Maybe it did. He didn’t know I was there, watching him. The stalkee had become the stalker.
He swam to the edge and got out of the water, baring every glorious inch of his body to my eyes. I wished the sun to come out early so I could study his body, but I’d take what I could get. The water ran down the valleys of his chest and stomach in rivulets. He was panting, his stomach hollowing in with his every breath, highlighting the leanness of his muscles. His long-ish hair brushed against the curves of his shoulders. It hit me again how tall he was, how lean, how beautiful. His biceps bulged as he pushed his hair back from his face, and his thighs flexed as he bent down to pick up
his discarded clothes.
“Don’t,” I shouted and ran toward him.
He snapped his head to look at me. His eyes widened in shock, and his clothes hung limply in his hands. I think I’d struck him speechless. I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t so aroused and bursting with questions. Coming to a halt in front of him, I snatched his clothes from his hands.
“What the…?” he sputtered. “Give it back.”
I raked my eyes over his body. He had little springy hair on his chest that trailed down to his stomach and his cock. He wasn’t overly muscular, just the right amount that made me want to curl my fingers along the ridges.
I brought my gaze back to him and pouted. “What happened to your promise of going skinny-dipping with me? I feel left out.”
“Just give me back my clothes.”
I hid his clothes behind my back. “Nuh-uh. I like you this way. You know, if you’re so fond of swimming, we do have a swimming pool at the gym. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from here.”
Shaking his head, he asked, “What are you doing here, Madison?”
“Stalking you; you should be familiar with the act. So what is it that you like about the lake so much, huh? You keep staring at it, and now you’re all naked and—” I looked down his panting chest and twirled my finger over the head of his semi-erect cock. It sprang all the way up. “—hard.”
He stepped back, splattering droplets all over my hand. “Stop. Touching me. Not here.”
“Why not here?” I lowered my voice to a whisper and widened my eyes in mock horror. “What’s here?”
He looked away from me, uncomfortable. Stroking his hand over his hair, he said in a surly tone. “It’s not your business. Just hand over my clothes.”
I had a strange feeling I knew the reason behind his discomfort. “Is it about your elusive wife? The one I’m not allowed to think about?”
“Don’t…don’t talk about her,” he growled.
His voice shot heat straight to my core. “It is about her, isn’t it? What, she had a water fetish or something?”
In all his naked glory, he charged forward, but as usual, his voice was soft in a menacing way. “Stop talking. Just stop talking and give me back my clothes.”
The reddish tinge of a blush coated his glass-sharp cheekbones. I suppressed a smile at his uncharacteristic but obvious boyishness. “No. You’ve seen me naked. You’ve seen every part of me. It’s only fair that I get to see you, too.” I touched his chest then, hot and wet, and whispered, “It’s only fair that I get to touch every part of you.”
His muscles jumped. I tracked my fingers over his wet, slippery chest, touching his coarse hair, the veins snaking over his collarbone. It felt divine. I felt my skin coming alive over his bare skin.
He tried to move away, but I stepped closer. “Why won’t you let me see you? What is it that you’re hiding?”
He clenched his jaw, and his eyes moved away from me. I trailed my fingers down and found his ribs. His skin was hot silk. He drew in a breath and stopped my roving hands. I got even closer to him. The air around his wet body was misty, and it made me want to take my clothes off, too.
“Let me touch you.” Then I said the magic word, “Please.”
He didn’t let go of my hand, but his grip loosened enough that I could massage his body. My fingers moved as I watched him, his reactions. They became panicky the lower I went, confusing me. Why was he…?
I came across a tiny bump on his skin, then another and another. What was that? I broke his stare and looked at where my hands were touching. I was at his hip, and on looking closer I found white scars around the area. They were only on the right side, but there were so many, must be hundreds or more. Tiny cuts. The skin was puckered, folded on itself. Now that I knew they were there, they jutted out from his skin, appearing silver.
“What…” I stared hard at those marks. “Are these cuts?”
Shame colored his gray eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.
“Do you…do you do that on purpose?”
He swallowed in discomfort, fisting his hands over mine again, pressing them closer to his stomach. His silence was plenty informative.
Holy shit!
I breathed as the realization stamped on my brain. “You’re a cutter.”
Chapter Nineteen
Madison
James was a cutter.
My James. The superhero. The monster with a moral compass. He cut himself.
His silence smothered me, smothered my lungs, my heart. My very soul.
Oh God! Why would he do that to himself?
“Why? Why would you do that?” I repeated my thought out loud.
Where there was no sound before, the thunder of my heart and the sound of his sketchy breaths echoed.
“It makes it easier.”
“Makes what easier?”
“Everything. Lying. Being with you.”
“You cut yourself because you’re with me?” My voice, high and bordering on hysteria, shocked both of us. It was rare for me to lose control, and this was one of those moments.
His jaw ticked in anger. He should have looked ridiculous, standing naked and angry, water dripping off his body. But somehow he looked menacing, looming over me.
“I cut myself because that’s the only way I know how to deal. This makes up for it. This makes up for everything.”
Oh James! I was…well, I was speechless. Was this the big secret? Was that why he wouldn’t let me touch him?
“Don’t you see it by now, Madison? I’m fucked up. There’s something wrong with me.” He raked his hand over his face “I don’t…I’m not normal.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Isn’t it? You, of all people, should know how fucked up I am. I like your tears. I like to make you hurt.” He clawed at his hair as he added, “My blood is tainted, Madison. There’s a disease in me. And I wish with everything I am that my Katie doesn’t catch it.”
“Is…Is that why you wouldn’t tell her? About…your wife?”
I thought I’d seen the extent of James’ sadness. But I was wrong. My words had turned him into sadness itself. In this moment, with his shuttered eyes and defeated face, he was grief personified.
“I know I can’t hide it forever. I wish I could. But the moment I tell her, what if she becomes like me? What if the news breaks her so much that she turns into a monster like me?”
Oh James!
He was going to kill me.
He was going to make me cry.
I stepped closer to him with my eyes burning. The telltale prickling and heaviness bore down on my throat and nose.
His fingers touched under my eyes as his body loosened. “Are they…for me?”
I sniffled, not saying anything. He knew the answer, anyway. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but…I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
The tears came and ran down my cheeks, hot and fierce. “And I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re flirting.”
“I have my moments.”
Smiling, he bent down and caught my salty tears on his tongue, drinking them. He pressed his forehead to mine and whispered against my wet cheeks, “Every day I fight with myself to stop seeing you. I tell myself that I can end it, that I don’t need to see you to feel something. But every day I fail.” He breathed against my lips. “All night, I can’t sleep. I count seconds until I’ll see you again. Touch you, fuck you, make you cry.” His eyes roved over my blubbering face. “Fuck! You’re so beautiful when you cry for me. It scares me.”
I gasped and then moaned as he gripped my hair harder.
His voice grew grittier, agitated. “I hate that I need you so much. I hate this connection we have. I wish I…I could hold it and crush it with my bare hands so I don’t need you anymore.”
His confession was costing him. In front of my eyes, he seemed to have shrunk a little. There was devastation on his face, ashen and pale. I shoul
d’ve been happy, right? Feminine vanity that I denied I had should be jumping with joy. All this desire for me. But my chest constricted, imagining the drops of blood he’d shed because he wanted me. I didn’t want him to hurt himself.
Okay, so now would be the time to run away, but instead, I began tracing his rough skin again, and said something totally weird, “Do it to me. Cut me.”
He drew back in confusion. Yeah, I was confused too. But I didn’t let him get away. I wanted to feel it, feel the sharp sting, the ooze of blood, and I wanted him to do it to me. I…craved it. I asked him if he could do it here, and he nodded.
I lifted my top over my mid-riff and pointed below the swell of my breasts. “Cut me here then. I want to feel it.”
“But—”
I put my finger on his lips. “I feel like dying tonight.” I held up my fingers an inch apart. “A little bit.”
He gulped. I could smell the musk of his arousal, begging me to stroke his cock. Just one stroke, and then I moved away and took my top off.
In the back of my mind, I thought, What the hell am I doing?
At the bench, we were hidden by thick trees and shrubs. From years of experience, I knew no one would come out there. But this was a clearing and even though no one would be up and about at this time, I still felt shy. Even from James.
He’d put his clothes on, though his pants were unzipped and his shirt hung open, sticking to his wet body in places. James stared at me as I took my bra off, too, and let it fall on the ground. His eyes followed me when I went to my knees, then lay down at his feet. He looked into my eyes, but then his gaze slipped, and he stood mesmerized by the sight of my breasts. I realized he always did that. He’d always stare at them before taking his first bite. I shivered.
He took something out of his pocket. It was a thin blade. Goose bumps sprouted on my skin as he kneeled down beside me. He was still wet, and his movements rained his water down on me, hitching my breath.
“Are you sure?”
Uh, no.
But still, I nodded.
He bent over me and breathed in my skin, making me gasp. He flicked his tongue over my nipple before taking it into his mouth. I fisted the grass and arched up my back. He licked the underside of my breast once, then lifted his eyes to look at me. There was no hesitation in them. They glimmered with a strange light, as if his gray irises were two tiny moons.
A War Like Ours Page 22
