CHAPTER 24
WHEN I AWOKE, I FELT the puffiness of my eyes, the unfamiliarity of the silky sheets under my skin, the raw stickiness between my legs. Hard, strong arms clutched me from behind, locking me to a strange body. Guilt flowered within as I remembered, but my muscles clenched at the memory. Before I could fully recall, David stirred behind me. His hand lifted my hair, and he touched his lips to the curve of my neck, causing my eyes to flutter shut and a moan to escape.
“Perfect,” he whispered into my skin.
My body tensed instantly and my eyes flew open. In the cruel sunlight, the darkness had lifted and all that lay there was the truth.
“Oh,” was all I could say as I lifted my body onto weak arms, carefully avoiding his stare. My eyes stung with lack of sleep, but my weariness was only physical. I looked at my watch, wondering how anything on my body could have survived the night before. Six o’clock. The shame weighed on me so heavily, that it had woken me up, not allowing me to forget for more than a few hours.
“I have to leave.” It came out coarser than I’d intended, but all I could think was that my husband would be flying back later. That, and the fact that I didn’t know how I’d be able to leave David in that moment. I was torn between this thought and wishing I had never come.
I let myself look at him then. The white sheets were pulled up to his muscled stomach, and his head rested back against his arm as he watched me. Matted hair fell over my shoulder, and I imagined that eyeliner had smeared around my eyes. He looked perfectly unaffected meanwhile.
“Stay,” he said, no pleading, just flat. I knew that if I allowed myself, my worries, my fears, my inhibitions would melt away under his gaze. I would melt away.
But I no longer felt adventurous or sexy. I just felt wrong. A dull pain began to throb behind my eyes as I looked for something to cover myself up. I heard David get up and when I turned, he had put his underwear on. His muscular body, now that I could see it in the daylight, was robust and ridged, and it took every shred of my willpower not to drag him back into the bed. He gathered up his side of the sheet and offered it to me.
Wrapping myself in it, I stood, and we stared at each other from across the bed. I might have expected that the electricity between us would diminish, even slightly, but it didn’t; if anything, it amplified as my body recalled the night before. I longed to submit myself to him again, to feel the weight of him on top of me. I knew without words that he felt the same; by the way he looked at me and by his twitching but restrained erection.
“Bathroom,” I said, shifting on my feet. He nodded. I quickly glanced around a bedroom that was all sunlight and whiteness, except for a wall of grey-shaded stone behind the bed. In the bathroom, I shut the door behind me. It was just as beautiful and immaculate as the bedroom, with more rock and a glass shower that overlooked the water.
I sat on the toilet and ran my hands over my face. I’d actually gone through with it. I’d betrayed, deceived, lied. And with someone like David, who’d probably done this a thousand times before. I wondered if he normally let women spend the night. At the thought, I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw white. It didn’t matter; he’d gotten what he wanted. And hadn’t I? It was a moment I’d furtively fantasized about, yet my daydreams were nothing compared to the reality. The reality of his skin on mine, his length stretching and filling me. The reality of him working my body as if he owned it.
I shook my head hard. No. I’d done so much more than acted out a fantasy. I had a husband, and a family, and a life to answer to. What had I done? Something profoundly wrong. Something bigger than myself. Something that could never been undone.
I stole a quick glance at my reflection as I washed my hands. I was right about my smeared make-up, red eyes and tangled hair. The bruise on my face was ripe, but it didn’t shock me anymore. Did I look different? How did adulterers look? Would a scarlet ‘A’ appear, branded into my skin somewhere?
I wet my thumb and wiped the smudges from under my eyes. I raked a hand through my hair, starting at the roots. I needed a brush, I needed my hair to cooperate. It was the only thing within my control at the moment. My fingers stuck on several tangles, and I bit my lip to keep my crying out; underneath a slight wave had developed from my sweat.
When I opened the door, David was waiting on the edge of the bed in those disarming sweatpants. I leaned against the doorway.
“I liked the bedhead,” he said, jutting his chin at me.
“Nah. Left to it’s own devices, my hair would put me in an early grave. It does not know how to cooperate,” I said, tossing it over my shoulder.
“Well I like you that way. Disheveled.”
“David, last night was . . .” I let the sentence hang, wrapping the sheet tighter under my arms.
“It was,” he said, his head bobbing slowly. And then, “I meant what I said.”
“About my hair?” I joked.
“No,” he replied seriously.
“Then what exactly?”
“Everything. That I want you in my life. That I have feelings for you. That you’re incredible,” he said, a lascivious smile forming on his lips, the perfect partner to his tousled inky hair. “I want more, Olivia.”
My mind raced. Our connection only intensified once we’d given into it. For the first time, a question I had been battling broke through: does he actually care for me?
“And I meant what I said.” I needed to cut off the flow at the source. The conversation could not continue; too much damage was already done. “I’m not good for you. I’m, I don’t know . . . broken and - and married. Trust me when I tell you, there is no other way.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then whipped them open. “You’re broken?” he asked with a look of disgust. “And you say you have nothing to give? How the fuck can you say that to me after last night?”
“I understand. Being with you last night was,” my voice hitched as I tried to find the words. “A release, and I don’t just mean sexually. But that doesn’t change the fact that I belong to someone else.”
He stood from the bed.
“Don’t.” I held up my hands, stepping back instinctively. His eyes narrowed into a closed face, and my heart tightened in response. He took a measured pace. “This isn’t how this goes,” I explained. “It can’t happen again.”
“Olivia.” It was a command; he must have known what it did to me. He reached for me confidently, gone was his moment of hesitation. He gathered me in his arms and kissed my wounded cheek, my neck, my shoulder. I cherished the feel of his lips on my skin, knowing it would be the last time. With that, I began to weep silently in his arms. This time I cried for what I was losing, not from guilt or regret. He held me closer and let me cry into his chest, his large hands caressing my back as the sheet fell to my hips. My nipples tightened against him, and I felt his equal desire hard against my stomach.
“Shh,” he whispered in my ear. He bent and kissed me full on the lips, pressing my wet face against his and sharing the tears. The slow and sensual tempo of his kiss turned urgent and deep. His hand slid down my back and under the sheet, massaging my ass and inspiring the fervor again. My legs quivered instinctively.
I’d been with boys before; I’d been with boys I’d thought were men. But this was different. David kissed like a man. He tasted, he smelled and he fucked like a man. It would take all the strength I had and then some. I understood now that I was the one who would have to be strong for everyone; for David, for Bill, for myself. It had been unfair to ask him to be. It was all on my shoulders.
“No,” I said resolutely and pulled away, drawing the sheet over my shoulders, hiding in it. I felt so small, looking up at him from under wet lashes.
“Olivia.” His tone was softer, and I could see the struggle within him. “I’ve waited . . . It’s not . . . I don’t want to lose you,” he declared, running a hand through his hair. I stared at him, momentarily speechless.
“We have to forget about this,” I implored finally. “We barely even know each other.”
“You keep saying that, but I know it’s not how you feel.” He waited, his brown eyes searching mine. It was true, but it was an argument I couldn’t afford to lose, so I didn’t say anything.
After a few moments of silence, he looked at me calmly and asked, “Is this really what you want?” I looked back at him, urging myself to speak, urging myself to put an end to it once and for all. Just one word. His expression changed as he waited, and I recoiled into my sheet. “Is this really what you want?” he intoned with increasing volume. I knew he was demanding an answer.
I nodded, and he grasped my blanketed arms forcefully. “Tell me, then. Tell me you want this!” I opened my mouth but the words failed me. He shook me once, pressing his fingers into me. “Look me in the eye, and tell me you can forget,” he hissed. “And . . . and if you can tell me that, I promise, we’re through.”
I felt my knees, and my resolve, begin to buckle beneath me. I reached deep inside for a modicum of strength. Any woman would be lucky to have this man standing in front of her, asking her to stay. Any woman would be horrified to know that I would be willing to give up my life for someone I’d met only months before.
I squared my shoulders, still firm under his grip, and tried unsuccessfully to look him in the eye. “I - I . . .”
“I can’t hear you,” he said, backing me into the doorjamb.
“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered.
“Say it,” he commanded. “Say it, Olivia! Say it!”
“This is what I want!” I yelled at him, wriggling to get free. “It’s over!”
He released me, and I hastily grabbed my belongings from the floor, running out of the bedroom. He didn’t come after me this time, and I was grateful. I didn’t think I could ever look into those eyes again without remembering the look I’d just seen. I ran into the foyer, hit the ‘Down’ button, and, dropping the sheet, dressed speedily as the elevator ascended.
Once inside, I bit my lip to hold back the tears. I tried, in desperation, to push David’s expression from my mind. The doors parted to the regal, eerily quiet lobby that echoed with the click of my heels as I raced through. I sensed eyes on me, but I fixed my gaze on the revolving door ahead as though it would get me there faster. When I pushed through to the other side, I was forced to shield my eyes from an unrelenting sun. Stumbling down the block, I stopped to lean my back against a cool, scratchy brick wall to catch my breath. It was then that I sank down to the ground, put my head in my hands, and sobbed.