Come Undone (22 page)

As
I pulled the bow taut, my fingers stilled and lingered; I could no longer avoid
his penetrating gaze. I watched the rise and fall of his chest until my eyes
traveled up his exposed neck. His Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed. The ends
of his hair looked damp. Creases around his lax mouth remained, though his
smile did not. Finally, our eyes locked.

In
one slow, measured movement, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to
him. His other hand rose and raked through my hair, tilting my mouth upward. Instinctively,
I pulled away as he closed the space between us, but his hold was firm. My eyes
unwittingly fluttered shut as his lips touched mine, testing the new territory.
Warmth pulsed through me with the rise and fall of my chest, reacting to the
disparateness of his purposeful but tender touch. My mouth parted imperceptibly
and he answered with a harder kiss, opening me with his lips. An ache blossomed
between my legs, responding to the hot breath and heady taste of another man.

Without
direction, my body molded to his, and my mouth gave way. He cupped my face and backed
me against the mirror as the kiss became needier. His hands moved down my neck,
over my collarbone and covered my shoulders, where he pressed me into the glass.
That ache grew painfully, eager for satisfaction. I yearned to reach up and
touch him but his unyielding grasp immobilized me.

An
impassioned moan escaped my lips, and he tore away, leaving me gasping for air.
He released my shoulders abruptly and stepped back.

“What
are you
doing
?” he asked so softly
that I was sure he hadn’t meant for me to hear. “Fuck.” He turned away from me
and ran both hands through his styled hair. “Fuck!” he yelled and pounded his
fist against the wall. He whipped the door open and stalked out.

Slowly,
I covered my tingling mouth as shame seeped over me. I methodically picked up the
office with trembling hands. I folded the clothes he’d left behind and set them
in the bag. Twice, because of my shaky hand, I wrote a note to Lucy explaining
that David had left in a hurry without his things.

This can’t
happen,
I told myself.
Put it
away, Olivia. This has to
stop
.

~

I felt
physically and emotionally drained when I returned home. The idea of a weekend
sojourn, beginning with an hour car drive felt impossible. When I entered the
apartment, I heard noises coming from the bedroom.

“Livs?”
Bill called.

“Yep.”

“We
should probably eat before we pick them up.”

I
walked by the pile of fishing equipment at the door and into the bedroom, where
Bill was folding clothes into an open suitcase. “You should start packing,
too.”

The
urge to turn and run overcame me. I didn’t want to face him, so I looked away.
“I already did.” I pointed to my suitcase in the corner. “I’ll make something
to eat.”

“K.
Hey, wait,” he said, reaching out and pulling me over. I tensed under his touch
but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He kissed the top of my head and
tucked some hair behind my ear. “How was your day? Work late?”

“It
was good,” I said, curling my lips into what I hoped was a smile. I discreetly
wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to erase traces of David. “I’m
not feeling well though, would you mind soup for dinner?”

He
crinkled his nose in response. “I hate soup.”

“Please,”
I said. “I’m not up for making anything.”

“It’s
fine, I’ll get something on the way. What’s wrong?”

“Probably
nothing, I just need a good night’s sleep.”

“And
you’re going to get one. Soon we’ll be under the stars, away from all the
noise. Doesn’t get much more peaceful than a cabin in the woods,” he said
excitedly. “I can’t wait.”

Life
in Chicago had taught me to not only appreciate but to love the fast pace of a
city. For me, the best lullaby was the telltale sounds of a sleeping city. But
Bill saw things differently. He longed for the sort of tranquility that only
nature could provide. “Me neither,” I agreed, trying to remain positive. “I
could use some fresh air.”

After
a can of chicken soup, I didn’t feel any better. I needed to cleanse, not
consume. Despite Bill’s protests, I flipped the shower on, promising him it
would be quick.

“Quick?”
he called through the door. “Sure, then you have to do your hair and make-up,
Liv, I’m almost done – can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“No,”
I snapped. “The steam will help my head.” I peeled my dress off, letting it
fall on the floor as Bill opened the door and stuck his head in.

“Babe,
I’m not going to do my hair or make-up,” I said, exasperated.

“Damn
right,” he said. “We don’t have time for that.”

“I
get it. I’ll be fast. There’s a twenty in my purse – take the bags
downstairs, and get yourself food from the corner. I’ll meet you down there in
fifteen minutes.”

He
grunted in response and turned away.

“Honey,
the door! You’re letting all the steam out.”

He
pulled the door shut as I stepped under the showerhead. I dumped too much body
wash in my hand and smoothed it over my skin where the water burned.
Oh God, oh God. What have I done? And what
do I do now?

I
forced David’s face from my mind. His lusty eyes tormented me, reeling me in
before his body had cast me aside. I imagined my hands were his and squeezed my
shoulders as he had, but my grip was pitiful in comparison. I ran his hands
over my breasts, caressing taut nipples.

I
opened my eyes and shook my head.
Stop!
I begged myself.
This is wrong. This is
so wrong.
I twisted the dial closer toward the red, forcing myself in the
water’s punishing path. The ache from earlier gnawed at me, dragging my hands
downward. My chest heaved as I gave in to the memory, gave in to the feel of
David’s lips against mine just moments before.

My
palm pushed against the mound between my legs, slippery from the soap, and my
fingers circled my opening, massaging the skin as my arousal mounted.
David,
I thought, slipping two fingers
inside myself and moving into them.
Firm,
strong hands . . . holding me still . . . on my skin . . . .
I shot my
other fist against the wall across from me, pressing into it as I began to lose
myself in the thought of him. With my back flush against the slick tile, I
lifted one leg onto the opposite wall, continuing to pump and rub with my other
hand. I gasped for air as my imagination took over, as David pulled open my
blouse, hiked up my skirt and rubbed against me. I ripped the nozzle from its
place in a fury and fixed it against myself, letting the scalding water beat
against my clit.
Oh god, oh
god. I
writhed against it as David threw me on the desk, opening me with his fingers
and shoving inside of me mercilessly. With all my strength, I pushed my foot
into the tile as the waves crested, throwing me into a fierce, blinding orgasm
that continued longer than I was used to.

I
waited until my heartbeat slowed before gently placing the nozzle back into its
holder. Below, I was red and raw from the force of the water. I continued to
wash my skin, carefully avoiding the painful area with my hands. I’d wanted to
cleanse myself of him, of his presence, of the ache he had inspired. Instead I
felt filthier than ever.

CHAPTER 1
5

THE DRIVE TURNED OUT TO BE
a welcome
distraction from my thoughts. Only once, while Bill and Andrew excitedly
planned their morning on the lake, did I look out the window into the darkness
and remember David’s unrelenting clasp on my shoulders, or the way his surprisingly
tender lips claimed mine. The memory was made of details, unlike the furious
sensations of the fantasy I’d given in to before.

“Enough,”
Lucy said in exasperation, tearing me from my reverie. She hadn’t asked me much
once I’d told her David had been impressed. I imagined her rolling her eyes in
the backseat as she scolded Bill and Andrew. “No more fishing talk ‘til I’m out
of earshot or extremely drunk.”

“Then
the same goes for wedding talk,” Bill countered.

“Bill,”
I admonished.

“No
way. You girls can talk cake and centerpieces ‘til you’re blue in the face once
Andrew and I have left in the morning.”

Lucy
made a noise. “I don’t talk about the wedding that much.”

“You
don’t, Luce. He’s just being mean,” I said. I swallowed, wincing at the early
sting of a sore throat. “How many bridal mags did you bring? Be honest.”

“Well,
nine, but it’s because I’m so behind, and I need your help. Like, what about
shoes? White shoes are just so . . . yuck.”

“Tsk,
tsk,” Bill said, shaking his head. “Tomorrow.”

“Fine,”
I said. “What would you like to talk about? Sweetie?” I added as an
afterthought.

“Basketball.
Andrew, what’s the score now?”

Lucy
and I groaned in unison.

“Actually
man, there is something I want to ask you,” Andrew said, clearing his throat.
“Since Liv’s going to be in the bridal party, I thought you might want to also.
If you want. Like, my brothers are going to be in it, but I need one more guy.”

I
stifled a laugh. It was really sweet of Andrew to think of Bill, but I knew
he’d be pissed. “Andrew, that’s so nice,” I said. “Of course he wants to.”

      
“Yeah, of
course, man, thanks for thinking of me,” Bill agreed. I reached over and rubbed
his knee.

~

We arrived
at the cabin late, and after unloading the car, headed straight for our
respective bedrooms. I fell into bed, welcoming the warmth of the flannel
sheets. Thankfully, the cabin was well-stocked with tissue boxes since I felt
something coming on.

“Night,”
I said with a sniffle.

Bill
closed his book and leaned over to kiss my neck.
Oh my God
, I thought, panicked.
This
can’t happen. I’ve barely recovered from my shower.

“Bill,”
I objected, and he slid his hand under the covers and over my backside.

“Come
on, Liv,” he whispered. “We’re all alone in the woods. It’s so romantic here.” I
thought better than to point out that Lucy and Andrew were steps away.

“I’m
definitely coming down with something. You might catch it. What if you can’t go
tomorrow?”

He
relented, somewhat dejectedly, and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.
“Okay. Goodnight.”

I
exhaled my immense relief. I fell into sleep quickly, but thought I heard, ‘I
love you.’

~

The
next morning, I toweled off from a quick rinse, threw on a robe and met Bill in
the kitchen. He handed me a big mug. I held it close to my face and sniffed,
letting the steam clear my nose. “Mmm, peppermint tea. Thank you honey.”

“How
are you feeling?”

“Miserable,”
I said with a frown.

“Oh,
no.” He leaned in. I offered my cheek, but he dodged it and planted a chaste
kiss on my lips.

“Bill,”
I whined, crinkling my nose. “I’m gross.”

He
smoothed his hand over my wet hair. “Take this,” - he handed me a bottle of
Nyquil - “and go back to sleep.” I’d been up all night with a runny nose and
had a trashcan full of snotty tissues to prove it.

“Where
did you find this?” I asked warily, checking for an expiration date.

“Medicine
cabinet in the bathroom. No clue how old it is.”

Andrew
waltzed in then, his spirits much too high for five in the morning.

“Have
fun today,” I said to them nasally.

“What’s
wrong, Liv, not feeling well?”

“No,
I’m going to try and sleep it off though.” I poured the green liquid down my
throat and, cupping my tea, plodded back into the bedroom.

As
I lay my head on the pillow and waited for the elixir to kick in, I was alone
with my thoughts again. Only now, they went in a different direction. I’d
betrayed Bill. By giving in to my impulses and by not stopping the kiss. Why
hadn’t I? And why had David pulled away?

Glancing
around the cozy cabin at Bill’s things and the mussed up sheets from where he
had just been, I desperately hoped I wouldn’t see David again. Things felt dangerously
easy with him, and I’d proven myself as weak as any of his girls.

But
I had the memory, and it was unshakable. I began to drift amongst thoughts of
arms and fingers, lips and eyes, skin, tuxedos, cufflinks . . . .

~

I threw my
hair back and dabbed a bit of make-up on my sallow skin. Unrelenting shadows
circled my eyes, and I gave up trying to cover them. I wandered out into the
living room, feeling relaxed and a bit wobbly. I’d slept a good six hours, but
the effects of the Nyquil remained.