Distractions (10 page)

out a loud moan. My wrist instinctively

grasped the board to keep upright. His

hips rotated in circular motions slowly

while his nails dragged lightly down my

back and sides.

The feeling of the rope fibers and

cold wood pressed against my skin only

added to the delicious sensation he was

creating. I had never allowed myself to

be restrained before. If asked, I would

most likely decline. Perhaps he knew

that and chose this as a way of

introducing me to it. The exotic element

of picking up the objects along our

voyage made it that much more special.

I felt his hand run along my spine

and into my hair before grasping a

handful and gently tugging back while

moving more aggressively. I didn’t know

how long I could hold this position, yet

it appeared indefinite. I imagined what it

looked like to him, so exposed and

vulnerable. I was completely at his

mercy, but the feeling of not being in

control did not make me afraid. With

him, it allowed me to let go. I tried to

withhold the scream of pleasure building

up in me, but another pull of my scalp

broke it free. I started to jerk against the

restrains that began to sear my skin and

could not stop.

His hands grabbed my hips and

drove deeply to satisfy his own urge.

Digging his fingertips into the flesh, I

knew he was close. I remained

motionless, taking in every movement he

made. Knowing he received so much

pleasure from my body pulled another

release from me along with his. Both of

us panted heavily for minutes while our

heartbeats gradually slowed down.

Shepard’s deft fingers unwound the

knots in the board and freed my wrist

and ankles. As I stretched to loosen sore

muscles, he walked back to the bag and

retrieved a small metal tin and a package

of cotton gauze.

He removed the lid to the tin and

lovingly rubbed the cinnamon scented

ointment along the burns that reddened

where the ropes were tied. At first it

stung, then immediately numbed from

whatever was in the balm. Gently

wrapping the gauze around, he kissed

each spot once finished.

“You shouldn’t have any marks by

morning. Just don’t take those off until

then. Depending on how bad it is, you

might need one more treatment.” He

spoke softly while putting the lid back

on the tin.

“Oh, I have something else for

you.”

I remained silent on the bed

watching him move about the small

cabin. A paper bag revealed a small

blue velvet box. He opened it and

removed a necklace. With a smile, he

placed it around my neck and secured

the clasp. I looked down and saw a large

coin set in a silver mounting. I had been

eyeing it in the gift shop earlier in the

trip and told Shepard the story about

where it came from.

My grandfather had a replica of the

ship that sank near the Florida Keys. It

was a Spanish Galleon loaded with

treasures bound for home. A storm

swept through the Caribbean and sank

the ship. After the salvage began, some

of the coins became available to the

public. I always wanted a piece of the

legendary Senora de la Esperanza, and

now it rested against my chest.

I started to weep at the sweet

sentiment. He had seen that I wanted it,

but I couldn’t justify spending so much.

“Shepard, you shouldn’t have. This was

really expensive. It’s beautiful.” My

hands rubbed the coin tenderly.

He crawled next to me and circled

the coin with his index finger. “Most

girls want diamonds and overpriced

purses; you want an important piece of

history. You more than deserve it. Now

you always will have a reminder of our

time here.”

I snorted at the purse comment.

“Please do not buy me that crap, ever.

This… this is incredible – thank you.” I

didn’t know what else to say. He knew I

was grateful for the gesture. “So, if I let

you do kinky things, you’re going to buy

me cool stuff? Doesn’t that make me

some kind of hooker?”

With a hearty laugh he replied,

“Doesn’t that make you a normal

girlfriend?”

My face dropped slightly.
Normal

girlfriend
. What was that?

Noting my change of demeanor, he

asked what I was thinking.

“I’ve only had one boyfriend, so I

don’t exactly know what’s normal. I just

know what I think is or isn’t right.” My

lips curled to the side in deep thought.

“Violet, don’t get mad, but what did

he do to you? You are a beautiful,

intelligent, funny girl. I don’t get it.”

My chin now started to quiver and I

turned away as the tears came. He knew

he was approaching dangerous territory,

but I’d rather he know now than be upset

later. I hated ruining such a beautiful

moment, yet the opportunity was ripe. I

held nothing back as he held me close.

The entire story of Connor Lewis tearing

me to the ground and why I vowed never

to fall in love again came rushing out

with every dirty detail. When I was

finished, he kissed the top of my head

and spoke with resolve.

“As long as I am breathing, Violet,

I will do everything in my power to

make sure you will never feel that way

again. I promise.”

I turned from my resting place

against his chest to meet his eyes. His

mouth came down softly over mine and

kissed me with determination. I knew he

wasn’t lying. I could only pray fate

could allow him to make good on that

promise.

Chapter 9 - Can

You Do This?

Shepard dragged the luggage onto

the landing and immediately walked up

the stairwell with me in tow. His hair

had developed vibrant blond streaks

from the week in the sun. Golden kissed

skin made his blue eyes glow that much

brighter underneath lush lashes. It was

still early afternoon, but as predicted, he

proved

insatiable.

Every

moment

cherished because I knew they were

limited; it was never long enough.

Being away together for a week

simply reinforced a bond that had long

been forged. A tangible friction rested

between us, despite both of our attempts

to ignore what it meant. He looked at me

occasionally as if I were going to

disappear into thin air, as if he could

sense my penchant for fleeing. I could

feel to my very core that he would never

hurt me the way Connor had done so

many times. I closed my eyes to banish

the ghost of the past. I refused to

associate any new sadness with past

memories. This was a longing caused by

the pending absence of love, not the

destruction caused when it goes wrong.

“Hey, come back.” His lips

returned my focus to where it should be,

on the here and now. I savored the flavor

of the fruit candies he’d munched on the

drive back, which lingered on his tongue

sweetly.

“You taste like rainbows,” I

giggled

His chest pushed me back into the

bedroom dresser, knocking over a

picture frame and causing a slight tink as

the brass disc hit the ground. Curiously,

Shepard turned and picked up the shiny

metal object.

“Why do you have zils?” Peering at

the item and then back to me, he quirked

his eyebrows upwards.

“I used to dance a long time ago.

Sometimes I still do when I am alone.

You would know that if you could see in

this window.”

With a wink, I leaned down to

remove my shoes and freed my aching

feet. A week of flip-flops and sandals

must have caused them to flatten in

rebellion of the heels I favored so much.

Without a word, he snapped the zil

tightly into his fist before bolting out the

door.

Okay.

Through the bathroom window, I

saw the light to his bedroom come on for

a moment before flickering back off.

Shortly after the downstairs door opened

and slammed shut, pounding steps

vibrated the wooden stairway.

“Want to tell me what you are

planning to do with that thing?” I

couldn’t help but smile at the violin in

his hands. I knew he played – very well,

in fact. I would open my windows in the

summer to hear him practicing rare

Paganini pieces while I worked on lab

data.

Holding his hands to his knees,

regulating his breathing, he huffed out.

“I want to watch you dance while I

play.”

The excitement in his voice was

electric. How could I deny such a simple

request?

“Okay, let me get my computer and

load a song. You can run through while I

change, deal?”

My mind started to reel at how

intriguing this was turning out to be. No

one had seen me dance in years. It was

one of the few things I could do to keep

me feeling grounded. However stressful

a day I had, I could move until I was

exhausted, physically working out what

was paining me mentally.

I pulled the song up and propped

the laptop on a chair for easy viewing.

The low hum of the first note being

pulled across the strings with the horse

hair bow sent shivers down my spine.

Each following tone was drawn with

precision. For never hearing it before,

his ability to translate it so perfectly lent

to his talent.

I plucked the purple and black coin

scarf out of the closet along with the

crushed velvet skirt that brushed my

ankles. An intricately embroidered

bodice fit tightly across my shoulders

with the lacing along the bust hanging

freely. I used my index finger starting at

the bottom to pull tight each crossing of

the ribbon. My other hand held the next

area together as the boning cinched my

ribs in tighter. Over a decade later and

the overflowing breast I had hoped for

as a girl still failed to appear. Small

mounds of flesh burst out from the top,

causing me to sigh in amusement. My

self-loathing dissolved the moment I first

stepped in front of a crowd. As I grew

older, I became not only accustomed to,

but also thankful of my smaller chest.

I sauntered out of the closet into the

bedroom and watched the biggest smile

grow across his face. Suddenly I became

nervous and self-conscious without

reason. Shepard turned off the lights and

lit a few luminaries that cast shadows

along the walls.

“What?” Doubt was creeping over

me under his watchful stare.

Shaking his head with a grin, he

went back to practicing the song that

took me back in time. A young girl

named Marianna walked the festival

with me. She was a little under fourteen,

but her skilled fingers with a bow

melted my heart. Just as Melissa took me

under her wing, I too cared for

Marianna. Her mother owned a floral

garland booth and would occasionally

sit nearby while oil painting to keep a

close eye on us. Considering that we

were just kids, our show made quite a

bit of money. As one of the few friends

similar in age, it was hard saying good-

bye when she left with her family at the

end. She would play the Turkish style of

music I picked for Shepard, called

Tsifteteli.

“Are you ready, Violet?” He pulled

the violin under his chin and waited for

my cue. Like a true performer, he took a

stance and became completely serious. I

wondered how he would play and watch

me at the same time. The small brass

cymbals fit snugly on my thumb and

index finger. Raising my hands above my

head, I clicked my fingers three times in

count for the song to begin. Shepard