Come Undone (35 page)

“David!”
I squealed. He laughed, and it was such a playfully uncharacteristic comment
that I couldn’t help but join him.

“I
mean it. You are such a fox. If you were my girl, I’d have you coming every
chance I got.” My laugh melted and my mouth watered at his words. He slid down
my body and nuzzled my breasts, sighing into them and scraping his facial hair
against my skin. “Did I tell you you’re incredible?”

“I’m
thoroughly worked over, is what I am,” I responded.

“You
know, when I looked into your eyes at the theater, I was stunned. Nothing like
that has ever happened to me. And when I saw you in that gold dress, at the
restaurant, I knew you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. You were
glowing. But right now, in my bed, naked and undone,” he paused, leaning forward
to kiss me softly on the lips. “You are perfect. I never want you any other
way.”

I
ran my hand over his cheek and through his hair. It hurt me that I couldn’t
respond the way I wanted, so I just touched, memorizing him with my hands.

His
gigantic hands splayed over my ribcage. “So smooth,” he commented, moving his
fingers over my skin.
Everything is
smooth in the dark
, I thought.

My
body jolted when his index finger ran over my scar, causing the muscles
underneath it to contract. “Except for this. What is it?” he asked. I gulped and
squeezed my eyes shut, thankful for the night to hide whatever nuances might
give me away.
Why is he asking me this?
Who
cares what it is?
I balled
the sheets in my fist and willed that he would leave it alone. Instead, he
leaned closer and examined it. “What’s it from?”

“Wasn’t
that enough for one night?” I asked, half-joking. His silence was response
enough. I sighed and pushed his hand away. “It’s ugly, and I don’t like talking
about. Let’s not.”

“What
happened?” he persisted.

“I
don’t want . . . to lie to you. So please don’t make me.”

He
laughed softly and buried his nose in my chest, placing a feather light kiss
between my breasts. “Don’t lie. I’m not easily scared.” Suddenly his body
against mine began to feel heavy, and his breath on my skin was grating, as
though it hit a nerve with every exhale. I must have moved, because suddenly he
insisted, “Stop. Don’t pull away. Tell me what happened.”

I
was quiet for a moment, debating. “My mother accidentally stabbed me when I was
a teenager.” It felt ridiculous to say out loud. I hadn’t had to since that
night at the hospital.
All that blood.
“My
parents fought a lot the year leading up to their divorce, but it had never
become violent until she pulled a knife one night. I don’t think she meant to
do anything with it, but I jumped in the middle and, well, you can guess the
rest.”

With
the words out of my mouth, I no longer felt cornered, and his body began to
feel less like a trap and more like a shield. I glided a hand over his smooth
upper back. I’d said it aloud and the world hadn’t come crashing down . . . .
Well that’s something, I guess.

“What’s
the rest?”

Again with the questions
. “You ask a
lot of questions,” I said. I moved my hand to his hair, letting the silky
strands sprout from between my fingers. “Why, are you going to rescue me from
my past, David?” I asked sadly.

I
pulled lightly on his arms, and he snaked back up to my face, settling on top
of me. He pecked me on the lips softly, lingered there a moment and then kissed
me again, this time opening my mouth with his. Slowly, he caressed my tongue
with his while running his hand along my jawline. “You’re hard,” I whispered
into his mouth. He nodded without separating from me. He weighed heavy on me
and I took it, wanting nothing more than to stay securely underneath him as
long as he would let me. When the kiss hardened, he tore from me.

“You’re
distracting me, Olivia. What’s the rest?”

“Hmm?”
I asked sleepily. I opened my eyes, wondering if I could convince him to keep
kissing me. “Oh. The rest . . . Hospital. Blood. Screaming,” I said, closing my
eyes again. “Really, that’s all the detail I care to remember. I hate
hospitals. Blood scares me blind.”

“Does
it hurt?”

I
puckered my lips and cocked an eyebrow at him. “No, of course not.”

“You
flinch when I touch it.”

“A
reflex, I guess. I can’t control it.” The room quieted, the only sound a pair
of mirrored breaths.

“To
protect you from your own mother,” he said finally. “I don’t know anyone who
can do that.” It was an odd statement, and I wondered what he meant by it. Did
he also have problems with his parents?

“Well,
it was a long time ago. It never happened again. My dad left her the next day,
and I went with him.”

“Your
dad sounds like a smart man.”

“He
is,” I agreed. “But she never got over it. She thinks we abandoned her.”

“What
is it?” he asked gently, noticing my change in cadence.

“It’s
weird to talk about. I haven’t in so long. I guess since it happened.”

“How?
What about . . .” He hesitated. “What about Bill?”

I
looked down at him. “Now you can say his name?” I let out a laugh, which
promptly turned into a yawn. “No, you’re right, I forgot. Of course I told
Bill.” How could I tell him that that wasn’t true without scaring him? That
Bill had never asked? That I’d just shared with him one of the most personal
things about myself that I hadn’t even shared with my husband?

CHAPTER 2
4

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.