by Portia Moore
“This isn’t about Melissa or your mom. If this is something you want to do, you do it.”
“I know,” I whisper, and I do. He’s right. It feels good to curl into the circle of his arms and feel safe. I have someone who understands why I feel the way I do, who will help me through the worst and hardest parts of my life. And I want to do the same for him.
In this second, I know if he asks me to marry him I’ll say yes. I kind of want to roll over and look at him, and ask him myself. I’ve never felt so secure with anyone. Everything else seems very far away, including Jackson, and the secret that I’m keeping. Nothing else seems to matter except Alex and I.
We’re going to my dad’s house. It’s six, so more than enough time for him to be home. Alex is driving because I’m too nervous to even think about driving. My hands tremble as I stare out the window and try to think of what I’m going to say. My mind feels like a blur, my brain foggy. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, what I’m going to do. I’ve been restless since the moment I found out he was alive and well and lived within a forty-minute drive of where I grew up. I feel stuck, unable to move any which way. Alex has been quiet during the ride, holding my hand and stroking it in a way that’s mildly calming, but the moment he parks in the gravel driveway and we walk up to the front door I know I’m going to lose it. For a second I consider telling him to turn around and get us out of here. I actually consider Melissa’s advice of just letting this go. But I’ve come too far, and I know it. I need to get my answers so I can move on.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his tone composed but the energy in the car is heightened. We both know what’s about to take place. After this there’s no turning back. I nod and he brings his palm to my cheek, those magnetizing eyes locking on mine.
“I know you were set to come and do this but if you aren’t ready it doesn’t have to be now. We can come back when you’re ready. We can come back as many times as you want,” he assures me. He cups my face in his palms and I close my eyes for a few seconds, which gives me all the strength I need.
“I’m ready babe,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady, and he nods. We both get out of the car and he allows me to walk ahead of him. I let out a deep breath before I ring the doorbell. I do it twice quickly before I can change my mind. It’s quiet for a moment, and I wonder if maybe they’re not home, despite the red SUV parked in the driveway. They have one of those visual doorbells and I wonder if they’ll just ignore us since to them—even the man who brought me into this world, whose blood runs through my veins—I’m a stranger.
I hear someone approach the door. Alex squeezes my shoulder and I prepare myself to face him but the door opens, and I feel my mouth drop open with shock.
It’s fucking Kristen.
Kristen who acts like I put a stick up her ass back in New York. Kristen who flirts shamelessly with my boyfriend and either annoys me or ignores me every time we’re around each other. What the hell is she doing here? She looks as confused and shocked as I am.
“What are you doing at my house?” she asks snidely, glaring at me.
“Your house?” It sounds stupid, but I can’t think of what else to say. What on earth is she doing here?
“Yes, my house.” Kristen rolls her eyes. “So again, what are you doing here?”
I glance at Alex whose own eyes are as wide as saucers.
“Do you know Robert James?” I push the words out of my throat and it sounds like a frog came up with them. Her face bunches up and she turns her attention to Alex, ignoring me as she always does.
“Of course I do, he’s my dad. What the hell is going on Alex?” she asks looking past me at him.
She’s my sister.
It seems like the most ridiculous twist of fate, that this girl who hates me, who made my life so difficult at work, who wants my boyfriend, is my sister. Is there no end to this? She’s staring at me like I’m some piece of garbage the cat dragged in, her arms crossed. She glances over her shoulder at her—our—dad.
“What’s going on?” he asks, appearing behind her. I take everything in. The three of us have sheer dark hair, my dad’s eyes are lighter than both of ours. I remember back when Casey said we looked alike, and I want to vomit.
“Dad this is Alex my manager and…his…someone I used to work with…” She trails off, disdain floating through her words. She looks at Alex curiously but when her expression lands on me she gives me a frown that demands answers.
“Is this a work thing? How did you even know where my parents lived?” I feel Alex’s hand graze my waist and I know he’s urging me to do something but I’m not sure what. Do I stay? Do I talk to my dad before we proceed further? Kristen being here changes things but thinking of this girl with the fucked up attitude, who treats anyone she’s not interested in or can’t get something from like shit, makes me have difficulty thinking straight.
“He’s my dad,” I blurt out, looking at him over her shoulder. I expect her to start yelling and telling us to leave but she only smirks and rolls her eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is a crappy joke. I’m going to call Veronica…” she says, exasperated, and begins to shut the door but him…Robert…my dad stops her and she looks back at him confused.
“Kristen,” my dad cuts in again, and he looks at me as if trying to decipher something. His eyes lock on mine as he takes in my whole face, and I feel anger, sadness, and excitement start to boil up.
“Madison? Or Melissa?”
The world freezes for a moment. There’s a ringing in my ears, coming from somewhere far away, as all of the blood rushes to my head. I feel my face flush red and hot, all of the anger and sadness of the past years flooding through me at once.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream. “It’s so fucked up that you don’t know which one of your daughters I am. How could you even ask me that?” I shake my head, trembling from head to toe.
“Do you have any idea what you did to us? How you made us feel?” I’m crying, hot tears spilling from my eyes and down my heated cheeks. “I wish I’d found out you were dead! Something—anything—would be better than this!”
“Madison. Stop!” Alex is grabbing me by the waist, pulling me back against him and out of my father’s face. He wraps his arms around me, and my tears turn into sobs. Through the haze of tears I can see my father’s stunned face and Kristen’s shocked expression. As Alex leads me down the stairs of their porch I see her turn towards my father, and I can hear her starting to ask him questions.
“Is this real? Is she your daughter? You have another family?”
I don’t hear any more, and I don’t hear his response. Alex bundles me into the car, and without a word starts driving. I vaguely hear him call Alyssa and ask if she can find somewhere to be for a little while, but it hardly registers. I stare out the window, my pulse slowly returning to normal as I silently cry.
By the time we reach the apartment, I’ve recovered enough to start to feel embarrassed about what just happened. I don’t say anything until we’re up in the room, which is mercifully empty, and then I turn to Alex. “I’m sorry.” I’m flushing red all over again, and I hate it. “I’m so embarrassed, you must have been so humiliated. And you’re going to see Kristen at work…”
“Madison, shh.” He reaches for my hand and leads me to the bed. “It’s going to be okay, we’ll figure it out.”
I stare at him. “I don’t deserve you,” I mutter.
He snorts. “You’re right, I’m really slumming it with you, woman,” he teases me before pressing his lips gently against my forehead. His embrace is protective, almost primal in a way, and I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with shame or anger this time, but something altogether different.
“I’ll be right back.”
I hear him turn on the taps in the adjoining bathroom, and when he opens the door and motions me in, I see that not only is he filling the garden-sized tub with hot water, but he’s poured a generous amount of the rose
and vanilla-scented bubble bath into it, leaving mounds of fluffy, fragrant bubbles. I’ve never been much of a bath person, preferring showers, but the gesture is so sweet and it looks heavenly. I certainly need a little bit of heaven after the hell I went through earlier.
“Get comfortable and I’ll be right back,” he directs.
I just nod and start to undress. My head is starting to ache from all of the crying, and I’m so thankful that Alex is here, how he’s never made me feel suffocated or stifled.
I toss my clothes into a pile and step into the steaming bath, sighing with relief as my achy body sinks into the hot water. I feel like I’ve run for miles, all of the tension and anger knotting up my muscles, and I feel them undo themselves one by one as the water flows over my skin, the bubbles piling over me like a blanket.
When Alex returns, he has a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other. “Riesling—your favorite,” he says wearing a smile. He pours a glass and hands it to me, then sinks down on the floor next to the tub. “Do you want some time alone?”
“No,” I say. I’m overwhelmed by how thoughtful he is, this beautiful man catering to my every whim.
Holly was an idiot. “I want to be with you right now.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” He glances up at me. “Or if you want, we can just sit here.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I push at a mound of bubbles with one finger and sigh. “But I can’t think about anything else right now.”
“You don’t have to see him again. I feel like I may have pushed you into this,” he says, his eyes full of sorrow. I immediately take his hands.
“You didn’t,” I tell him, giving him a soft smile.
“You’re not under any obligation to have him in your life. I just thought… My relationship with my dads have always been a great part of my life. I just wanted the same for you.”
I sink myself deeper into the bubble bath at that statement and file it away for tomorrow to feel guilty about.
“I just want to understand. And I thought going there would make it better, that…I don’t know…he’d be happy to see me and we’d talk and maybe he’d explain. I didn’t think that he wouldn’t even know which kid I was, and that I’d have a sister that I know and work with and is a freaking bitch, and…” I let out a long, shaky sigh. “And I’ve just made everything worse. I’m so embarrassed, I made such a fool out of myself! He probably thought I was insane. It probably made him relieved he left, that he got away from the insane daughter.”
“Hey.” Alex leans forward. “You’re not insane, more like extremely passionate most times, with a dash of crazy,” he teases, and I swat him with water. His expression grows serious. “He missed out. You and Melissa are amazing women, and I’m sure leaving you both is one of his biggest regrets.” I shrug and he frowns and pulls me to face him.
“You’re my favorite part about my life right now. I love you, Madison James. I love all of you, even the girl who lost her mind this morning. All of the good parts and the bad. I’m not afraid of dealing with anything that’s ever happened to you. Because all of the experiences you’ve gone through have made you the woman you are, that I love.”
He moves closer, and leans over the edge of the tub, kissing me softly. His tongue traces the edge of my bottom lip, licking off a drop of wine clinging to it, and I moan softly.
It seems like something out of a fantasy: the bath, the wine, the steamy room, the sexy ass man leaning across the tub to kiss me gently. I’m melting into him, and suddenly I want him more than anything else in the world in that moment.
“Come in here with me,” I whisper, and I feel his quick, indrawn breath against my lips. Without a word he stands up, looking down at me with those intense, bright eyes as he strips his shirt off, muscles flexing as he reveals each inch of smooth, lightly tanned skin. Sometimes I can’t believe how gorgeous he is, and that he’s as good in bed as he looks.
He reaches down to undo his jeans, making a show of it as he slides them and his boxers over his hips, and I can see that he’s already half aroused as he steps out of them, walking purposefully towards the tub with his eyes fixed on me.
He slides into the bath, and as he sits down he reaches for me, pulling me backwards onto his lap so that I’m facing away from him. I can feel him pressing between my legs, thick and hard now, but he makes no move to slide into me or touch himself. Instead he reaches up, running his fingers into my hair, his fingertips pressing into my scalp as he gently massages it, his thumbs sweeping gently down the back of my neck. I feel his hands move down, over my shoulders, down my back, alternating pressure and gently trailing his fingers over my skin, and I feel all the tension leaching out of my body, the hot water and steam and feeling of his hands all mingling together.
He pulls me backwards then so that I’m lying back against his chest, between his legs. He’s hard against my spine, but it’s as if he hardly notices, or doesn’t care. His attention is entirely focused on me, his own arousal forgotten as his hands trace the length of my neck, over my collarbone. I close my eyes as I feel his fingers brush over my damp, soap-slicked nipples.
The slight roughness of his fingertips send shocks of sensation through my body as he brushes them again and again, rubbing gently and then pinching, until they’re stiff. He sweeps the bubbles aside and moves his hands down to cup my breasts, gently massaging and squeezing them until my back arches, pressing them into his hands as I writhe against him. The stressful tension has been replaced with another kind of tension altogether, an aching need that spreads through my body, my skin more sensitive with every touch. He brings his lips to my ear as one hand moves down my stomach, disappearing beneath the soapy water as he gently licks the shell of my ear. His fingers move downwards inch by inch until I’m on the verge of begging, my legs spreading wider with anticipation. I know where his hands are going, and I can feel myself throbbing, aching for him to touch me there.
He groans when his fingers part me. His teeth sink gently onto the lobe of my ear as he starts to rub my clit, gently at first and then harder, moving in slow circles as I arch against him. I can feel him throbbing against my spine, and I start to turn, but the hand still fondling my breast tightens, holding me against him.
“Not yet,” he whispers. “I’m going to make you come first. This is all about you babe.”
I close my eyes again, letting myself sink against him, the warmth of his breath against my cheek, the soft touch of his tongue against my ear, sending sparks of sensation across my nerves. I feel the solidness of his body behind me, the thickness of his arousal. It’s a reminder of how much I turn him on, what this is doing for him. He said to forget about him, but I can’t—it turns me on too to know that he wants me, that he’s ignoring his own desires to make sure I’m fulfilled. I feel the pressure of his fingers between my legs, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and then as my hips start to rock against his hand in a steady rhythm, my orgasm building bit by bit with each motion, he moves his hand down, two fingers sliding into me and curling upwards, the heel of his hand still rubbing against my clit as he finds that spot inside of me, the one he knows will send me over the edge.
I feel breathless, panting between moans as I arch upwards, wanting more, wanting the release that’s inches away, and I hear him whisper in my ear as the water splashes around us.
I clench around him, my body tensing as I feel myself on the verge of climax, and his voice is in my ear, telling me to come for him.
And then all I feel is pleasure, waves of it, crashing over my body as I cry out and arch up into his hand, seeking out more of it, more, and he holds me tightly against him as it peaks. While I’m still trembling, still coming down, he turns me in his arms so that I’m straddling him, grasping my hips and pulling me down onto his rigid cock so that he can feel the last bits of my orgasm as he sinks into me.
I cry out again, the sensation of him filling me reigniting every nerve, and I lean forward, bracing my hands
on the side of the tub as I bend down to kiss him, rocking my hips down onto him as he thrusts upwards into me. The water sloshes around us, some spilling onto the floor, but I hardly notice.
“I could be like this forever with you,” he whispers against my mouth, one arm around my back so that he’s holding me against him, my soapy breasts pressing into his chest as he looks at me, pushing my hair away from my face with one damp hand.
“Me too,” I whisper back, the sweetness of it flooding me. I can’t remember anyone ever having said that to me during sex before. For a little while I don’t think about secrets, or losing him, or anything else but the sweet pressure of his body inside of me and the warmth of him clasped against me, the touch of his lips against my mouth and jaw and neck as I hear him gasp, feel his body shudder as he approaches his own climax.
I’m nearly there, too, each roll of my hips bringing me closer, and I press one hand to the side of his face, bringing his mouth back to mine as my thighs tighten around him. He kisses me, long and deep, his tongue sliding against mine as he groans, and I feel his hands grasp my hips, pulling me down on him hard as he shudders. He’s rock hard inside of me, thick and solid, and I hear him moan, “Fuck, Madison!” He breaks the kiss for a moment then drags my mouth back down to his, and I know he’s coming. His whole body is shaking with the force of it, and it sends me over the edge too. I grip the side of the tub, my back arching, body pressed against his as it washes over me, and for a moment we’re entirely lost in each other.
For several moments I just lie against him, our skin damp and heated, and I can feel the rise and fall of his chest underneath me as he tries to catch his breath.
I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.
And he loves me.
I repeat this to myself over and over, as I lie there covered in steam and sweat. I know all over again that I can’t lose this.
Not for anything.
