Time's Forbidden Flower (14 page)

Jitters set in as Christopher’s Mini pulls into the driveway. I step into the smattering of light that beams from the candles lining the stairwell as he enters the house and closes the front door. “The children are with the nanny until ten.” I sound like a phone sex operator. “I hope you are not too disappointed.”

His keys and jaw drop in tandem along with my knees. Gliding to him, my hand slides up his jeans and stops at the perfect spot to tell me this outfit is appreciated. Kissing my way up his body, I slink the whip around his neck and playfully tug. With frigid eyes he obeys, as he is lead up the stairs and into the candlelit bedroom. The whip is nudged in the gentle suggestion he lie with me. A speck of fear lights his eyes.

Straddling over him, I glide the whip away from his neck. My words sound like a gentle ultimatum. “Put your hands through the bars on the headboard.” He swallows with force as he obeys. After the whip laces in capture of his hands, I yank down his pants and savor the taste of the creamy skin that trails to his groin. His uncharacteristic silence is replaced by gentle moans of pleasure.

With a maniacal grin I scale him and flick one of the buttons on his shirt with my finger. My eyebrow cocks in self-righteousness before ripping his shirt open with a force that sends the buttons flying across the room and pinging off the walls. I grab a bottle of cinnamon Emotion Lotion from my new arsenal of toys inside the nightstand and rub it over his lean muscles while blowing sensual warmth. Massaging it onto Christopher’s inner thigh, I mercilessly take him higher and higher, my lips eventually sucking him deep into the void, my tongue toying with little flicks, followed by clamping lips and pulses of suction, only to pop away and cruelly leave him wanting more.

As his tension begins to dissipate I throw myself on him, slide him inside, and roll my hips into his, pressing down so deep that he has me completely filled. My grind is slow, yet unrestrained, and I savor every drop of pleasure it brings while I again take him to the edge, then pull off before he reaches the point of no return. With a weakened disposition, he turns his beautiful blue gaze to me as if begging for mercy. Not only have I been rather unpitying, I’m more than ready for the grand finale myself.
 

I glide onto him, nuzzling my head into his neck with a purr. “I’ll release you, but on one condition.” Pausing long enough to slowly build a distressing smile, my fingers toy with his baited lips. “You must promise that once released, you won’t cower. I’ve unleashed the panther in me, now it’s time to expose the tiger in you.”
 

Christopher loses his face of submission and growls at me, bearing his teeth like he wants to go for my throat while tugging violently at the whip. The bed bounces with the force of a California tremor. The moment the whip is loosened he springs on me, pinning me to the bed as he goes down for the kill, his teeth ripping at my neck like an enraged animal. His touch is perfect—violent enough to thrill, yet soft enough to feel safe. He has me enraptured, and I am utterly vulnerable to his every whim.

He jams himself into me with a guttural sound, and I clamp like heated shrink-wrap. Nothing is held back as he pounds into me. My body responds with a hot, liquid ache. I throw my head back with a muted scream as he shudders into me with a fanatical release, causing me to seize with pleasure in a violent rage.
 

Christopher draws me next to him in an embrace so gentle it’s like the stroke of a feather. It brings me the kind of warmth and love in the afterglow that only he can—my heart and body completely satisfied.

Yet my soul sheds a tear.

Smack!

“Shit!” I scream after sliding with the grace of a hippo on ice skates and falling on my bum. “What the crap is on the floor?”

Jenny dashes in from the front of the store as Robert and Cindy bolt through the back door. “Oh my God! Lily, what happened?” Jenny shrieks. “You’re bleeding all over the place! I’ll call 911.”
 

Splattered everywhere is the contents of a cake pan that was headed for the oven. Since it was Red Velvet, I look a gory mess. “Jenny, I’m fine. It’s batter, not blood.” My fingers glide across the floor like a bowling ball down a lane. “Is this buttercream?”

Cindy smacks Robert on the arm. “Damn it, Robert! I thought you cleaned that!”

“I did!” he loudly whines. I’m disappointed that he omitted a foot stomp.

Cindy lets him have it. “Obviously not very well. I swear Robert, one of these days your laziness is going to kill someone. That big red smear could be Lily’s blood.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert says to Cindy. “I wiped it up, but I must have missed some.”

“Wiped it up?” Cindy asserts matter-of-factly. “That was six kilos of meringue buttercream! You have to mop it with detergent and extra hot water.”

“But that damages my delicate skin. I don’t want scaly man hands like others around here have.”

“Damn it, Robert! I swear—”

“Hey! Mr. and Mrs. Bickerson!” I interrupt while waving a hand in the air. “Would one of you please give me a hand?” Apologies are yammered as the three help me to my feet. My right ankle throbs, so I hop on my left foot, forgetting about the buttercream that still covers the floor. My arms flail like a pinwheel as I start going down again.

“You okay?” Jenny asks after Larry, Curly, and Moan catch me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Or so I genuinely think until I put weight on my right foot. The bolting pain causes me to jump, and the jump causes me to slide again. The Powerpuff Girls catch me just as I start to go down.

I lean on Cindy while Jenny and Robert dash off for ice and a chair. When Robert returns, he bounds with the attitude of a hero. “Here you go beautiful boss.” He helps me sit as my eyes spin to heaven, then he berates a returning Jenny. “Nice of you to join us. Where’s the ice?”

“Lily, you need to take this call,” Jenny frets, handing me the phone. “Antonia fell off a swing and hit her head. An ambulance is taking her to UCLA Medical Center.”

The beeping of the heart monitor tethered to the person in the bed next to Antonia thumps in my head like cotton swabs being jammed into my eardrums. Where the hell is the damn doctor? Doesn’t he know there’s a parent totally freaking out?

“Your daughter’s in room six,” a woman outside states. Thank God. Someone needs to stay strong and assure me Antonia is going to be all right, but at least Christopher will cry with me.

“Why didn’t you call?” Donovan accosts as he bolts to the other side of the bed and kisses Antonia on the forehead. “Hey Scrappy,” he says with a sympathetic tone while taking her other hand. “Sounds like you took a pretty bad fall.”

My head shakes to clear it. “Wait. What are you doing here? Did you tell them you’re my husband?”

Donovan stares at me like I should know the answer. “Jenny called to say you hurt your ankle because Robert is a klutz and that he was taking you to the hospital because you couldn’t drive, and she couldn’t reach Christopher. You had to change first because you were covered in red batter that wasn’t blood. Oh, and an ambulance came because Antonia hit her head and blacked out. Geez, Lil, what is it with you and whacky counter girls named Jennifer? What did the doctor say?”

“Nothing yet. By the time I arrived one had already ordered a CT scan, then went home at the end of her shift. We’re awaiting test results.”

Antonia releases her grip on my hand, and then curls to face Donovan, wrapping herself around his forearm like it’s a huge teddy bear that brings forth security. “Uncle Scooby, you’ll make sure I’m okay, right?”

“Of course.” Donovan’s words sound barricaded in his throat as his free hand glides across Antonia’s brow, caressing the hair out of her eyes. “With me around, you will always be fine.”

The image of a paternal Donovan with his mini-twin brings a gallop into my veins.

Donovan, something may have happened with her.

“Huh? Lily, are you okay? You look hazy.”

Footsteps thunder in my head as our tender moment is interrupted by the whip of the privacy curtain. My eyes jerk to the beautiful giant before us in shock. “Julian!”

“Lily!” Julian’s eyes jet across the bed. “Donovan?” They then glide to Antonia and grow firm, as if the room is a confessional informing Julian his theories about Donovan's intentions were correct.

“Julian, thank God,” I say in relief. “Do you have Antonia’s test results?”

With the cock of an eyebrow he twists his head to bring his attention to the chart in his hands. “Um, yeah,” he hesitates, his eyes scrutinizing the papers. “
Eccles
, right?”

“Yes. I’m Lilyanna Eccles now.” It’s not a statement to Julian, it’s a reminder to my compartmentalized self.

“She has a very mild concussion. You’ll have to watch her for the next twenty-four hours.”

I exhale in relief, my eyes drifting back to the still lovely, albeit disrupted, sight of Donovan and his twin. “See, you’re going to be just fine.” Donovan assures Antonia. His focus on her remains beautiful and, unlike his mind, unfazed by the presence of Julian.

Relief veils me as Christopher runs in and heads straight to my side, putting his hand over mine on Antonia’s shoulder. “I got here as fast as I could. I’ve been out of me mind with worry.”

“Everyone’s fine,” I assure. “Julian—I mean, Dr. Sandowski just gave us the news.”

Disappointment clouds Donovan’s face at the arrival of Antonia’s father. Releasing her hand with a little squeeze and a kiss, Donovan departs, cupping Julian’s arm as he goes. “Thanks, Julian. By the way, Lily messed up her ankle at work today. Will you please take a look at it?” A quick smirk at me is his only goodbye.

“Julian?” Christopher asks. “You all know one another?”

For the first time, the music from the two-years-apart dance calls. “Christopher, this is Dr. Julian Sandowski. Dr. Sandowski, my husband, Christopher.”

Christopher staggers with a hint of uncertainty to greet Julian. “A pleasure.”

When Christopher kisses Antonia’s head and she calls him daddy, a ton of bricks falls from the sky. Julian’s head dips back, spouting a gusher of words. “Oh! This is the guy from Manchester!”

“All right. I’m up a gum tree. Someone want to fill me in?” Christopher asks rather impatiently.

“Julian and I dated when I was at the Culinary Institute. He was a lifesaver when my father took ill. Donovan and I owe him big time for that.”

“You owe me nothing,” Julian says as he rolls over a stool and motions for me to put my ankle in his lap. “The crazy tension gave me good training in bedside manner. How is your mom?”

“Not well. She’s suffering from advanced Cirrhosis.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How’s Donovan doing?” he measuredly asks while removing my sneaker.

“He’s good—really good. He’s a psychologist, married to a”—gorgeous, totally unfair looking—“nurse. Ouch!” I flinch at Julian’s touch to my ankle.

“Psychologist? Really? Wow! That’s disturb—that’s great. How did you do this?” Julian asks, examining the ankle.

“Fleeing the bank. I never should have gone back for my Tommy Gun.” Dr. Dreamy chuckles at my jest. “I slid on some buttercream at work.”

“Slid, huh? Did you hear any kind of pop when it happened?” Julian asks.

“No, but I’m going to pop Robert for being a klutz and then not cleaning his mess.”

“Can you walk on it?” Julian asks.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay, let’s watch.” Smugly, Julian crosses his arms.

My shoulders sag. “Fine! You win.”

“Not even going to try to humor me, huh? Must be pretty bad,” he concludes while rising. “We’ll get it x-rayed. Can you take a few days off?”

Christopher chimes in so fast he almost interrupts. “She certainly can. Owning your own shop has to be good for something.”

“You did it?” Julian asks, his hazel orbs hopeful.

“Yep! Pâtisserie de l’Amour in Westwood.”

“Westwood! That’s impressive.” Crouching over Antonia, he gives her hand a little squeeze. “We’ll get you home soon. Be nice to your mom. She’s going to have a hard time walking for a few days.” Julian then shakes Christopher hand as he towers over him. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Christopher says, still looking bewildered. After Julian departs Christopher’s jaw starts to flap, then quickly halts. Conversations regarding our two years apart are still off limits.
 

“Go ahead,” I say, welcoming his questions with a gesture of openness. “You have carte blanche, but only for this one thing.”

Christopher looks gobsmacked—like God came down and thwaped him one on the face. His eyes search the room as his head bounces like a marionette seeking thought. “Bloody hell! Is that what you did when we were apart?”

I nearly choke on his phrasing. A nurse comes in to wheel me off to x-ray, and the temptation to leave Christopher with a parting zinger is too great. “No, Christopher, that is what I did for seven months while we were apart. The rest is an even bigger secret.”

Christopher’s coloring switches from pasty to green as I ride out of the room. I’m totally going to pay for this.

Being stuck on a sofa on Halloween sucks, especially after already suffering two days of imprisonment. Once Christopher leaves I’m defying the law and doing something he deems crazy—cleaning the house.

“There. Now you look the perfect lout,” Christopher proclaims upon placing an eye patch on Graham. “Bugger, I left your sword in the boot of the people mover.”

“When were you in Disneyland?” I wonder aloud. “I thought that died along with Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.” Christopher’s bloodshot eyes look at me like I’ve lost all touch with reality before his meaning sinks in. “Ah, the trunk of the mini-van.” Dear God, where does he get this stuff? If nothing else, my husband is unique.

When Christopher returns from the garage, Graham claims his weapon with over-enthusiasm, his eyes nearly incandescent. Antonia hops in wearing a Bugs Bunny suit. Could it be any clearer how she spends her time with her uncle?

“Thank you,” I say as Christopher slowly bends to kiss me before leaving. His droopy face shows he’s sleep-deprived. “You’ve done an amazing job while working your butt off at your job and with the band.” My lips surrender a long, luscious kiss in appreciation before I murmur into his ear. “How about I make it up to you with another special night?” He salivates so much drool may soon slide down his chin.