Love Me Not (16 page)

I felt…protected. I hadn’t felt that in a long time. Women wrapped themselves around me all the time, but it never felt like this.

She waited for me to talk. I knew she’d wait all night if she had to for me to be ready.

“I was married,” I said. “She’s dead now.”

Chapter 28

My Wife

Kimber’s voice was gentle. “Who was she?”

It was all going to spill out of me. I could feel it. I’d locked it all away, but somehow, Kimber had found the key. Or maybe she jimmied the lock.

“We went to high school together and got married in college,” I said. “Her name was Cassie.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“She was beautiful. Everyone in school wanted her, but she picked me.”

“She had good taste.”

“Her mother was from the Philippines, and Cassie looked just like her, same cheek bones, and her eyes curved more when she smiled.” I paused. “She was the first girl I slept with, and I was her first. I thought we would go our whole lives being only with each other.”

I stopped there. Surely, Kimber would assume I was the one who’d cheated.

“She betrayed you,” she said.

I looked down at her as she was still curled into me. The way she was looking at me, the gentleness in her eyes, like she understood how much I hurt, how Cassie’s one act had destroyed me.

“Yes,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

That was all she said, nothing else in her voice, no assumption that I’d done something to push her into doing it. It’d been my fault really, but there was nothing I could have done to change it.

“How did she die?” she said.

I turned my head to look at the floor again. “After we graduated, we moved back here. We found an apartment and started building a life. We bought a little house about a year later. She’d always wanted a family. She knew the school system she wanted our children to attend, the names she wanted to give them, that she’d teach them to play the piano. She said she wanted them to have my eyes. She’d tell me exactly what she thought our children would look like. I was excited simply because she was.”

“Did you ever have children?”

“We tried for a long time.” I laughed under my breath. “I got really good at performing on command. But even when we only had sex because we were trying to get pregnant, it was never forced. Once I kissed her, I wanted to be together.”

“You loved her.”

“She was my life. Everything I did was for her, and I wanted it that way. She was my best friend, my lover, my confidant, my everything. I would’ve done everything for her, and yet I couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted most.”

“You can’t father children,” Kimber surmised.

“Sterile. The doctors said nothing would work. Nothing was wrong with her. Only me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“All she wanted was to be a mother. She should’ve been able to depend on her husband to give that to her.”

“You couldn’t—”

“It was the only thing she wanted. She cried for days, grieving the children I couldn’t give her.” The image of her curled up in our bed, as if in physical pain, tear stains on the pillow, still haunted me. I was useless. I tried to comfort her, but there was nothing I could do.

I leaned forward, pulled my hand through my hair, and then rested my elbow on my thigh. I set my other hand on Kimber’s knee. I swore her contact was the only thing keeping me sane.

Kimber’s quiet hand touched the back of my head, and her fingers smoothed through my hair and down my neck.

“She was desperate,” Kimber said. “That was when she betrayed you.”

My voice barely made sound. “Yes.”

“Tell me,” she murmured.

I took a breath and held her knee tighter. “The guy who lived next door had a thing for her. He was always flirting. I came home, and…I almost killed him.”

“What did she do?”

“She cried. She covered herself in a sheet, locked herself in the bathroom, and cried. I couldn’t be there. I left and stayed the night with Penny.”

“You didn’t talk to her?”

“I went home in the morning. All I knew was I wanted to be with Cassie. We would figure it all out. I was willing to do whatever she wanted to have children—artificial insemination, adoption, whatever.” I stopped. No one knew this full story.

“But she hurt you.”

I lifted my head, sat straighter, still with my hand on her knee. “I loved her. I was willing to forgive her anything. She would’ve never done it if I had…”

“What happened when you got home?”

My expression contorted. “I shouldn’t have left her. I knew she wasn’t thinking straight.” I closed my eyes and ground my teeth. “I shouldn’t have left.” I squeezed Kimber’s knee, as if she could keep me from losing my mind, as if she was the key to my sanity.

She set her hand on mine and rubbed her other hand across my back. “What happened?” she murmured.

“She was dead. She…killed herself. Because of me.”

I took several breaths, forced them down as if swallowing acid. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Kimber kept her hands on me, as if keeping me in reality with her.

“She left a note,” I said, “begging me to forgive her.” I looked at Kimber, begging her to make it stop hurting. She was the only one who could. “I’d already forgiven her.”

She pulled me closer. Her hand on my hair, she pressed her cheek to mine. We stayed there for a long time.

I couldn’t believe I’d told her. I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud.

The pain of the memories still hurt—they were like barbed wire in my head. But Kimber was right. I could almost feel as the barbs contracted a little. I wasn’t sure if it was talking about it that made the difference, or if it was simply having Kimber here with me. I swore if I ever let myself fully relive that day, I’d go insane, literally, but with Kimber here, holding me, caring for me, I felt like maybe I could survive.

I held her tighter.

She squeezed me back. “I’m here.”

We were quiet for a few more minutes.

I murmured against her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

She sat straight and rested her hand on my cheek. Then she leaned closer and touched my lips with hers.

The kiss was slow. At first, it was sweet, my lips lightly caressing hers and then my tongue.

Then it deepened, still slow, sensuous.

I wanted to be closer to her. I wanted to be with her, a part of her. I wanted her to accept me into her, more than I’d ever wanted it. I held her tighter and smoothed my hand up her thigh. My thumb brushed her inseam, all the way up to her…

She sighed.

I stopped.

Eyes closed, I panted. “I’m sorry.” My other hand on her cheek, I started to pull it away. It felt impossible. I needed to touch her.

She held my hand to her skin, and I opened my eyes.

I saw what she wanted, exactly what she wanted. To be with me, to give herself.

“Please,” she whispered.

I couldn’t. It would be too hard when she left, when I pushed her away. I had to do it. She deserved to be with someone who could take care of her, who loved her.

Then it hit me, the truth behind why I’d been so crazy lately, why I was miserable, why I couldn’t seem to push her away. She was what I wanted, the only thing I wanted.

All of a sudden everything was simple. I’d stop sleeping with other women, and only be with Kimber. She wanted me to be with her, to welcome me into her. She was the last woman I’d sleep with, the only one for the rest of my life.

I wasn’t giving anything up, not my freedom, not my protection from the same pain I’d already dealt with. I was gaining her.

Everything was clear in my head, more even than I could tell her, at least not yet. I wanted to marry her, give her the life she deserved. I could offer security, and I could give her the relationship Daniel should’ve given her. I’d adore her, do everything I could to make her happy.

I’d find a place to live and start doing freelance work again. I’d make myself into the kind of man she deserved. And when she was ready, I’d give her a ring. Then I’d marry her as quickly as I could.

She could go to whatever church she wanted, and I’d even go with her if she wanted. She’d be free to do and think as she wished. I’d make sure no one suppressed her spirit again. I’d enjoy when she yelled at me sometimes and never tell her how cute she was when she yelled.

All of a sudden everything made sense.

My hand on her cheek, I brushed my thumb over her lips. The words came easily. They were honest.

“I love you.”

She watched me, and then she began to part her lips. I held my thumb on them. She didn’t have to say anything, didn’t have to feel obligated to say it back.

I leaned closer and resumed our kiss, deeply, the first truly honest kiss I’d shared in a very long time.

Her hand travelled from my shoulder down my chest, and she sat up on her knees.

The kiss was unhindered. We were both giving up to it, letting everything go.

Her hand fell lower, and I mentally travelled with it. She grabbed the bottom of my shirt and lifted. It fell to the floor somewhere. She touched my skin as if fascinated, as if she’d never been with a man she was attracted to before.

I stood and picked her up to lay her down on the bed. She held onto me. I unbuttoned her white blouse and opened it. My hand slid down between her perfect breasts. I wanted to memorize this, my last first time.

Her chest expanded as she breathed and filled her bra to overflowing. Her skin was clear white, like the perfect smooth surface of ice, and a few tiny stray freckles dotted her skin as if calling for me to play connect the dots with my tongue.

I pressed my lips to her cleavage, and she held me to her. With one hand around her back, I unhooked her bra. Then her shirt and bra were on the floor, and I was caressing her breasts with both my hand and my mouth.

She sighed.

I moved closer and touched my lips to hers again.

Then she pushed my shoulders and I was on my back. I laughed. I felt like I hadn’t laughed properly in years.

On her knees, she leaned over me. Her auburn hair fell across her breasts, and the look in her eyes…passion, desire. I swore I’d never been this hard, not in all my years of screwing women daily.

Her hands smoothed down my chest. I watched her look at me. I saw in her eyes that she yearned for me, that she always had. I wondered if she’d fantasized like I had about being together. That thought made me even harder. I imagined her lying in her bed, thinking of me, of us. Perhaps she’d even given herself pleasure while wishing it was me.

My erection was on the verge of being painful, that ambiguous spot between pain and pleasure.

Then her hand moved lower, the bulge at the front of my pants. She pressed slightly, and I groaned.

Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned my pants.

I lifted off the mattress so she could help pull off the rest of my clothes. I tossed my pants on the floor. My penis felt better not being cramped.

She was looking at me, at my bare skin. Surely, she’d never seen another man other than her skinny ex. I sat up on an elbow and took her hand to rest it on my penis.

Her touch made me breathe faster.

Gently, she caressed the shaft and then the head.

My breathing turned to panting.

Then I grabbed her by the waist, lay her down, and leaned over her. I maintained intense eye contact as my hand moved lower and then slipped into her pants. She stopped breathing and then gasped as I slid my finger along her enflamed vulva. She was already wet, so I pressed my finger in a little farther and caressed her clit.

She moaned.

I doubted her ex had ever made the effort to give her pleasure, to find out what she liked, how to make her go out of her mind. Tonight her pleasure would be my masterpiece.

She helped me pull off her pants and panties, and I brought the covers over us as I lay against her.

I touched her face with my fingertips. “Are you warm enough?”

She smiled a little. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“I’ve never,” she said, “not with anyone else.”

“I know.” I had the feeling she said it simply to make sure I knew she didn’t sleep around, that she wasn’t a whore. I already knew she was an innocent, all but untouched.

The kiss was light, and then I paused. “Stop me,” I said, “if I hurt you.”

“I’m okay. I—”

I touched her lips with my finger. “Please.” Then I kissed her again. We kissed and caressed for a long time.

Then she smoothed her thigh over my hip, a clear signal that she wanted me to start. I paused and saw the red climbing up her chest and onto her cheeks. She was ready. I realized from the look in her eyes that she was desperate for me to start.

I adjusted my hips, brushing against her.

So slowly, I pressed my penis through her moisture.

I only made it in a few inches when her head rolled back and her fingers dug into my back. I stopped.

As soon as I was sure her reaction was from pleasure, not pain, I pressed a little more.

My God, she was tight.

Slowly, and with only a few inches of motion, I moved in and out of her. She panted in my ear. Surely, time was passing, but I couldn’t be aware of it, only Kimber, only the fact that I was finally with her, finally close.

I enjoyed the soft sounds of making love, moisture and flesh, the shifting of the silk sheets, the sound her hair made against the pillow as her head rolled back. Everything was warm, the room, the bed, inside of her. She clung to me, and I held her. I loved the way she fit into me, and the way I fit into her. We were both the lock and the key.

Inside of her started contracting.

I continued moving the same way. She held me even more tightly, and then she moaned, “Heath.”

Somehow, I managed not to come.

My movement slowed and then stopped. I could still feel her spasming inside, and I was still only partially in her.

She took a few seconds to catch her breath.

“I want you to…finish,” she said.

I combed my fingers through her hair. “I will.”

After I gave her a few more seconds to breathe, I began moving, gently humping.