by Serena Grey
“I wouldn’t say anything about confidence” He chuckles. “But I certainly hoped you would come.”
I swallow and keep silent as I pick up a menu from the table, gazing halfheartedly at the options available. From under my lashes, I can see David doing the same. Finally, he presses a button on the table, and immediately a door opens and a waiter comes in to take our order.
We’re both silent. The wine arrives, but I only take a sip of the mellow liquid, intent on keeping my senses about me while I’m in the same room with David. He looks relaxed, as if he has no care in the world. I’m far from relaxed, being so close to him is making me nervous.
“You said you wanted to talk.” I say finally, breaking the silence.
“Yes.” He nods. “But that can wait.” He smiles at me, but I’m not deceived by the appearance of friendliness. He is dangerous to me, and I should be on my guard. “Tell me about you,” he urges good-naturedly. “What you’ve been doing… work and all.”
“You already know everything that’s been going on in my life.” I say, “You knew where I worked without asking me, you know where I live, and I’ll bet you know everything I’ve done in the past two months.”
He shrugs carelessly, and I know I’m right.
I sigh. “I really don’t want the money David.”
“We’ll talk about that.” He says firmly. There’s a small hesitation before he speaks again. “There’ll have to be at least some sort of settlement you’re comfortable with.”
Settlement. That word again.
I study his face, trying to read his expression, but as usual, there’s nothing there. A knot of dread forms in my stomach. He wants to talk about a settlement, a permanent arrangement that will signify the reality of our separation and the beginning of a divorce.
I should welcome it, I think. The money aside, I should welcome a divorce, a chance to start again, but the idea fills me with anguish. I won’t be able to bear it.
Get a hold of yourself Sophie, I tell myself as I take another sip of my wine. A divorce will hurt. It will break my heart all over again, but pain does not kill, and it won’t kill me.
Pain does not kill.
Our food arrives, but I can hardly eat. My stomach is in knots as I wait for David to say something. Finally, he summons a waiter to clear the dishes and then it’s just both of us again.
I close my eyes, waiting.
“Sophie.” He starts, saying my name softly, almost as if he’s not actually calling me, but saying it just to feel it on his lips, like a prayer. I force myself to look up at him.
“You said something about a settlement,” I say, the words thick in my throat. “If you want a divorce, just give me the papers.” I force my voice to be steady. “I’ll sign them.”
He looks taken aback, almost shaken, as his brow creases in a frown. For a long moment, he is silent. I realize that I’m gripping the edge of the table.
When he speaks, there’s an edge to his voice. “Is that what you want?” He mutters, “A divorce?”
I should say yes. How can I let go of the past if I don’t break the only thing still holding me captive to it? Yet I know that being married to David is not the only thing holding me captive to the past. A thousand divorces won’t change the way I feel about him.
I look away from him, avoiding his question and the intensity of his gaze. I don’t want to see the desire in his eyes. I don’t want to hope, when hope will only lead to pain. “Isn’t that what you want?” I whisper.
I feel, rather than see him lean forward. “No.” He says intently. I look up at him, and the earnest expression on his face almost kills me. “I don’t want a divorce, Sophie. I want you.”
My heart starts to pound again. I close my eyes and let the words wash over me, letting out a shaky breath as I try to control the emotions rioting in my blood. How is it possible to feel such joy and such pain at the same time? All the feelings I’ve managed to keep at bay for months rise swiftly to the surface.
“I’ve tried to give you some space,” He continues, his eyes on my face burning and almost wild, “I was still trying this morning, Sophie, because I thought that was what you wanted… needed.” He lets out a breath. “Well I’m done trying.” He says, his voice firm and determined as those blue eyes burn a hole through me. “I want you Sophie, and I want you back.”
Please don’t do this, I say silently, opening my eyes. He’s still looking at me, waiting for me to say something. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him. I want to tell him how thinking of him keeps me awake at night, how he haunts all my thoughts and my dreams. I want to tell him that I love him.
But what would be the point?
“You want me back in your bed,” I say softly, “That’s the only place where I ever meant anything to you.”
His jaw clenches visibly. “You’re wrong.” He says.
“Am I?” I counter, “I don’t think so. You spent our marriage living a life you never shared with me, flirting with you ex-girlfriend….” My voice catches in my throat as the memory of him and Carole kissing on the hotel terrace tears at my heart. “You never shared anything about yourself, your work… What we have isn’t a marriage, it’s a one night stand gone on too long.”
He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “And what would you know about one night stands Sophie?” he says, his voice a sardonic lash. “You want to know about me? Maybe I should write a damn autobiography starting from the day I was born. Would that make you happy?” He doesn’t wait for a response before going on. “You want to know about what I do? Maybe you’d like to join me at the office every day, or would weekly reports be fine for you?”
I recoil from the sting of his words. “It wouldn’t.” I say frankly, “Nothing you do would make me happy.”
He swallows, then leans back and runs a hand through his hair, messing his already tousled locks. “That’s not true.” He says.
I stare at him. My eyes going from his beautiful face to the powerful body barely curbed in his tailored suit. No, it’s not true, I admit to myself. He could make me happy. He could make me happy if he loved me.
“You don’t love me.” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything, confirming the truth of my words by his silence.
I draw in a sharp breath. Of course, he doesn’t love me. What did I expect? That he came to find me because he’d realized in my absence that he couldn’t live without me?
“Isn’t enough that I can’t stop thinking about you Sophie?” he says, his voice low and persuasive. “What else do you want from me?”
Love, but that’s always been too much.
“Nothing, David. I don’t want anything from you.” I get up and pick up my bag, making for the door, and my escape from the temptation that he is.
He springs up after me, his movements fast, yet undeniably graceful. “Sophie.” He says, making me stop. “Please wait.”
What’s the distance between wanting and love? I think as I turn around. How can he claim to want me so much and yet find it so impossible to love me?
He was standing right behind me, so that when I turn, I’m directly facing him, and our bodies are only inches apart. I look up at his face. Somehow, I know he won’t move closer unless I ask him to, even though the desire I can see in his eyes is so intense, I can feel it burning through my skin, heating my blood.
Suddenly, I know I don’t want to go. I know I’ll succumb to the desire that’s been building up since I laid my eyes on him. I barely notice as my bag hits the floor. The only thing that matters is the anticipation coursing through me as I reach up and pull his face towards mine.
Chapter Four
I’M ON FIRE, FALLING APART, trembling, and so hungry for him. His lips move over mine, and I moan softly, inviting his tongue to delve deeper into my mouth. He groans, and his arms encircle me, so strong and muscular as they pull me to him, molding my body tightly against his. He feels so familiar, and yet so different, hungrier, his body claiming contr
ol of mine with more urgency than I remember.
I press my aching body tighter against him, losing the last remnants of my self-control and offering myself to him. I pull at his clothes, all the while moaning my wild and uncontrollable need. I’m helpless against the longing, the desire, the feeling of exultation that fills my chest as his warm body presses against mine, the hard evidence of his arousal stiff against my thighs.
I don’t care where we are. I don’t care about the voice of reason in my head, telling me I’ll regret this. All I care about is being closer to his raw heat. I want him to give my body the satisfaction only he knows how to give me. I don’t care about what comes after. All that matters is now, the heat in my belly, the fire in my blood, the warm pool of desire gathering between my legs.
His hands are under my t-shirt, moving slowly over my heated skin. I groan as they move up to cup my breasts, finding my aching nipples through my bra.
“Do you know how much I’ve missed this?” He whispers huskily. “Do you have any idea how crazy you’ve been driving me?”
I can’t find the words to tell him how much I’ve missed his touch. My eyes find his, and I beg him silently not to stop. As if he can hear my thoughts, he starts to knead my breasts while teasing my nipples with his thumbs. Desire throbs insistently between my legs. I’ve wanted him for too long. I want him now.
He claims my lips again, his tongue teasing mine boldly. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him, stroking his rigid arousal through the fabric of his trousers. I hear him groan harshly as he grows even harder against my fingers.
Suddenly his hands leave my breasts and find the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I help him, eager to return to touching him. He undoes my jeans and pulls them down, going down on his knees to pull them off totally. Once they’re gone, his hands cup my butt and pull me close to him while he’s still on his knees. I gasp when I feel his lips on me, warm through the lace of my panties, nuzzling and kissing me. It’s so blatantly erotic my knees buckle, and only his firm hands keep me upright. I push closer to his delicious lips, grinding against him as warm, pulsing heat floods between my legs.
Impatiently, I reach for my panties and pull them down, baring myself to him. With a soft groan, he reaches for me again, pulling my hips closer to his face, and his tongue plunges between my legs.
My fingers are digging into his shoulders. I hear myself groaning, crying, and begging, as he teases me until I’m delirious with pleasure. His tongue moves expertly over the center of my arousal, licking and sucking me until my body is pulsing so madly I feel as if I’ll explode. Then he stops and rises slowly back up on his feet, his lips trailing kisses up my body, and his hands supporting me so I don’t collapse.
He unhooks my bra and pulls it off. I hear his sharp intake of breath as my breasts are bared to his eyes.
“You’re so perfect.” He says tenderly, his thumbs finding the erect tips and squeezing each nipple gently, with just enough force to make me want more. “Did you miss this Sophie?” he asks.
“Yes.” I whisper.
Then I’m moaning again as he bends his head to tongue each erect nipple, one, and then the other, until they’re both swollen and aching sweetly.
He moves away from my breasts, and his lips find mine, hot and demanding. I dig my fingers unto his hair and pull him closer, feeling his hands enclose my thighs as he lifts me easily, pressing me against his straining arousal. I moan and wrap my legs around his waist, rubbing myself against him, eager to feel him deep inside me.
Still carrying me, he moves until I can feel the wall at my back, then his fingers find me, slipping into my wet core, rubbing and stroking the most sensitive part of me. I strain against him, my back arching as his fingers move slowly in and out of me.
I can’t take it anymore. “David,” I moan, reaching for his zipper, but he’s there before me. I feel his trousers fall, and then his hands are around my waist, holding me still as he positions himself so I can feel the tip of his arousal pressing lusciously against me, then he grinds his hips forward, plunging inside me.
I gasp for breath, my body tightening as he goes so deep inside. He’s so hard, and so incredibly sweet I feel as if I’m losing my mind. My hips move, urging his hot length deeper inside me as my hands roam under his shirt, over the hard, sweat-slicked surface of his chest.
“David.” I moan urgently.
He is shaking, his jaw clenched, and his body tense. His eyes meet mine, and they’re dark and smoky with desire. He looks totally aroused, and incredibly beautiful.
“Please.” I hear myself say.
Slowly he starts to move, stroking sweetly in and out of me, until my legs feel weak and boneless, until I can’t feel anything, only him, only his slow, sweet, tortuous movements inside me.
I lose myself to the pleasure, pulsing and needy, moaning and panting as my body tightens around him. He groans, leaning his hands on the wall, as he starts to move faster, thrusting with sure, slick movements of his hips. I’m going to explode, I realize as my body bows and arches off the wall. I clutch his shoulders, my voice rising as my breath comes out in a long high moan. His lips cover mine, swallowing my scream as my body explodes around him, the same moment, I feel him stiffen and thrust hard one last time, his body shuddering fiercely as he groans out my name.
We stay there for a while, him still inside me, both of us breathing deeply as we lean on the wall. He’s still almost fully dressed, while I’m completely naked, my legs shaking and wrapped around his waist.
“Come home,” He whispers against my ear, his voice rough.
Oh, I want to. I’d like to follow him wherever he goes. I want to give him anything he wants, and why wouldn’t I, when he’s just made me feel so good. He’s still inside me, and where we’re joined, I can still feel a sweet pulsing ache.
“Come home Sophie.” He says again.
My eyes focus. My fingers are threaded in his hair, my breasts pressed against his chest. Right in front of me, I can see the door the waiters have been coming through. I know no one will come in while we’re like this. No one will come in unless we ring the bell.
But still, we’ve just had sex in public, in a restaurant.
I pull back from him, pulling my fingers from his hair, and pushing against him until he lets me go. I ignore the aftershocks of pleasure that run through me as he slips out of me, trying to stop my trembling as he sets me on my feet.
Why does this feel so familiar?
It’s hard, but not impossible to find the answer buried somewhere under the lingering cloud of arousal in my brain. This is David, and sex is his weapon.
He’s standing in front of me, towering over me. I stare at his shirt, noticing that I pulled off at least three buttons. “I have to go.” The words come out in a whisper.
“No, you don’t.”
I move away from him and start to dress, hurriedly pulling on my clothes. “I think I do.” I hiss angrily. “You’re obviously not…” I pause and take a deep breath. “You said you wanted to talk David,” I accuse him, “but of course it’s much easier for you to make me want you, and then make your demands when the last thing on my mind is saying no.”
His face hardens. I watch as he starts to adjust his clothes, his movements swift and mechanical, but still so mouthwateringly graceful.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask, as the silence stretches, “Aren’t you going to at least try to explain why you brought me here telling me that you wanted to talk while all you wanted was to break me down the best way you know how?”
“What would you like me to say?” he mutters. “You think what just happened here was about me trying to coerce you into doing something you don’t want? Well I wanted you, Sophie. I wanted you so much I wouldn’t have cared if the whole restaurant could see us. How about considering that for a change? That all night I’ve wanted you, that I’d have eagerly taken you on the table, on the chair, anywhere in this room.” He glares at me. “
You want me to apologize for that? Well I’m not sorry.”
Why am I suddenly trembling and needy, wanting him again? I take a deep, shuddering breath. “And it’s always about what you want, isn’t it?” I say, fighting to control my desires, “Well this is what I want David, I want you to leave me alone.”
He doesn’t say anything. He watches me silently as I pick up my bag and leave. Outside, the wind is strong and salty, mingling with the salt of the tears I’m trying, and failing to keep from falling as I hurry along the sidewalk.
Chapter Five
“AH! HERE’S YOUR CUTE FRIEND AGAIN.” Bea says with a wink as she hands me my coffee. I’ve been silent all morning, though she doesn’t let that bother her. Probably, as far as she’s concerned it’s just another dimension to my constant melancholy. I wonder what she would say if I told her about David, about last night.
I turn around, following the direction of her gaze. Sure enough, Eddie is walking into the café, coming towards us with a smile on his face. “Sophie.” He greets cheerfully.
“Hey Eddie.”
“Hey Eddie.” Bea chips in with a sly wink in my direction.
I roll my eyes at her, but she ignores me, taking Eddie’s order, while smiling cheerily at him. From the other end of the counter, I notice Luke looking from Bea to Eddie with a curious expression.
Eddie turns to me, and his eyes fall on the front of my t-shirt, another variation of the ‘Welcome to Empathy Zone’ theme. “You work there?” he asks, gesturing towards the words on my chest.
I nod.
“Oh.” He looks pleased, “It’s right on my way,” he says with a smile. “If you’re on your way there right now, we can walk together,”
“I’m not ready to leave yet.” I tell him, ignoring the obvious, fake choking sound Bea makes as she hands him his coffee.
Eddie looks hurt. “Okay.” He turns to leave, then pauses. “I just hoped we could have a drink sometime.” He says with a boyish, hopeful smile. “That’s if you don’t mind.”
I start to tell him that I’d rather not, but I catch myself. Is this what I’ll do for the rest of my life? Push people away because of David? After last night, I don’t know where we stand, but I know all my efforts to get over him have been set back years, if not decades.
