Obsession (13 page)

By four o’clock that afternoon, after stopping for a quick bite and a large coffee, I was home and already missing Peter. Peaches was glad to see me, and the first thing I did was go to the kitchen to refill her bowl with food. However, I found it full. There was also a fresh bowl of water.

Andrew had been here?

I whirled around, half-expecting to find him inside, although his car wasn’t in the driveway. That’s when I noticed a note on the kitchen table.

I lifted it and read.

I crumpled the note and walked to the trash can. But I hesitated before I tossed it and, instead, unfolded the note and read it again. Then I crumbled it again and threw it away.

I wasn’t ready to deal with Andrew yet, and I didn’t like the idea of him coming here unannounced.
I came by early,
he’d written. How early? Did he realize I hadn’t been here last night?

It didn’t matter if he did. He’d been the one to give me his blessing to screw another man. But still, I found myself wondering what he was thinking…and how he might have reacted to the thought that I was in another man’s bed.

If he knew how many orgasms Peter had given me, would he regret having had an affair?

“Stop thinking about Andrew,” I told myself, but I knew that was easier said than done. How could I stop thinking about the man I’d been married to for eight years?

My feet began moving, and the next thing I knew, I was lifting the phone’s receiver. I wanted to hear Peter’s voice, a man who was making me feel good instead of bad.

Maybe I’d even offer to go to Key West with him, promise I wouldn’t get in the way of his work.

Peter, however, didn’t pick up.
Hell, he must at the airport already,
I thought, frowning.

Should I pack a suitcase and hit the road? Driving to Key West from Orlando would take several hours, but it wasn’t impossible. With good traffic, I could be there by midnight.

Immediately, I frowned. I couldn’t go to Key West. Sure, I could possibly track Peter down there. He’d mentioned the Sheraton, and someone there would have to know something. But if I showed up unannounced like that—when he was there to work—he’d think I was a stalker.

No, I would stay home.

But I had a feeling I’d be bringing myself to orgasm quite a lot over the next four days.

All I could think about was Peter for the next few days. He had called me every night, usually after ten, and it was nice. Every time the phone rang, I got butterflies in my stomach, anticipating hearing his voice on the other line.

It made me realize just how much I’d come to care for him in such a short time. Yes, I liked the sex. Okay, I
loved
the sex. But it was more than that. I enjoyed spending time with him. I enjoyed the way being with him and hearing his voice boosted my spirits.

Even though he was in Key West, his whispered naughty words into the phone line at night turned me on as much as his touch. Something about the way he spoke to me made me truly believe I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

It was great to know that a guy was so into me.

The contrast between Peter and Andrew was glaring. Andrew and I certainly had decent sex, but nothing like what I was experiencing with Peter. Peter enjoyed getting me off on the phone, something Andrew had never done, not even once. Andrew was safe, predictable.

Peter was exciting, wild.

The fact that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Peter while he was gone helped me make a decision about something. Not a major decision, but a minor one. I didn’t want to stay in the house and look at Andrew’s stuff anymore. I didn’t want to see his clothes in the closet, his cologne in the bathroom. I knew I couldn’t simply erase him from my life by putting his things away, but nonetheless, I didn’t want the constant reminder of him around.

So I called Marnie and asked if she’d help me pack up Andrew’s things into boxes. For now, I could store them in the garage.

“You want to pack up Andrew’s things?” Marnie asked.

“Yeah. I think it’s something I need to do.”

“What does that mean?” Marnie asked. “Are you—”

“Making this a permanent split?” I offered. “Not necessarily. But, I kind of feel like I need to explore what I’m feeling for Peter. I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t know, I just…” My voice trailed off. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.

“Hey, if you need me to help you pack up Andrew’s things, I’m there. And if you want my help unpacking them as well, I’ll help you do that too. But tonight’s not good for me—”

“That’s okay. We can get an early start tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” Marnie said.

I hung up the phone and replaced the receiver, feeling as though I’d made the right decision.

After midnight, when the phone rang, I immediately bolted upright. I twisted my body to see the caller ID.

Private Name.

I smiled. That had to be Peter calling from his cell. I muted the television and snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Sophie, hi.”

My body froze. That wasn’t Peter.

“Andrew,” I said, a little breathless from the surprise.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Was Andrew drunk? His words sounded a little slurred, but wherever he was was noisy. Perhaps a bar?

“I miss you, babe. I don’t think you realize how much I miss you.”

Yes, he had to be drunk. “Where are you?” I asked. “A bar?”

“I want to come over. Can I see you tonight?”

“What?” Panic shot through me. “You—you can’t come over.”

“Is someone else there? Is that where you were the other night, with
him?
”

“You’re drunk, Andrew. Do not come over here. And do not get into a car.”

“You’d care if I got killed?” Andrew said, all the words practically blending into one.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“Someone else there?” Andrew went on. “Is that where you were the other night—in someone else’s bed?”

I didn’t know what I should say, especially with Andrew being drunk. “Where are you?” I asked.

“Bahama Breeze. I’m listening to the live reggae band and remembering our honeymoon in Ja-mai-ca.” He feigned a Jamaican accent.

Bahama Breeze was on International Drive, not too far from where Andrew worked. I found myself throwing off the covers. Even though I didn’t want to see him, I couldn’t stay here and let him possibly get behind the wheel while drunk. That would be out of character for Andrew, but he definitely didn’t sound like himself.

“Are you by yourself?” I asked.

“No. Dave’s here.”

Relief washed over me. That was good news. “Let me talk to him, please.”

“Holdonasec.”

There was some shuffling and, moments later, Dave came on the line. “Hello?”

“Hi, Dave. It’s Sophie.”

“How’re you doing, Soph?”

“I’m all right,” I said. He didn’t sound inebriated, but still I asked, “Are you drunk?”

“Naw. I had one beer, but I’ve been drinking soda ever since.”

“So you’re able to drive?” I went on, to be sure.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. But I’ve got to say, Andrew’s really hurting over you.”

I didn’t respond as I got back under the covers.

“He loves you, Sophie. He really does.”

I waited a moment, then said, “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“He’s sorry. You’ve got to believe him, Sophie. He’s going crazy without you.”

It felt as though a heavy weight was pressing against my chest. I didn’t want to be having this conversation. And I certainly didn’t want to be guilted into forgiving Andrew. I was going to deal with this in my own time, and forgive him when I was good and ready.

If
I was ever ready.

“I’m glad you’re there for him,” I said to Dave. “And I’m going back to bed now.”

I clicked the talk button to end the call.

Less than a minute later, it rang again. Frustrated, I pressed the talk button and began without preamble, “Andrew, stop drinking and go home. And stop calling me.”

“Who’s Andrew?”

That wasn’t what I’d expected, and I was momentarily speechless. Then I said, “Peter?”

“Who else calls you at this time of the night?”

“Hey, you.” I smiled. “I was wondering if you were going to call tonight.”

“It was a long day, and the crew went out afterward, or I would have called earlier. So, who’s Andrew?”

“My husband,” I answered. “You remember I told you I was married.”

“I thought you were divorced,” Peter said, and I could hear both surprise and disappointment in his tone.

“I’m separated,” I clarified.

“Didn’t you tell me you were divorced?”

“No. Actually, we didn’t we really talk about it. But we’re not together, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why did he call you?”

I sighed. “Because he’s out, drinking. I guess he’s sorry for what he did. But you know what, I don’t want to talk about Andrew. I want talk about you. I miss you,” I added in a sexy whisper.

“I miss you, too. Like crazy.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, the stirring of desire rumbling in my belly.

“You cannot imagine how much.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea. I can’t wait to see you, touch you…When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow. Around eight.”

“In the morning?” I asked hopefully.

Peter chuckled softly. “You really do miss me.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I want you at my place as soon as I get there, which should be around eight in the evening. I’ll call you from the airport and you can head to my place to meet me.”

“I will,” I assured him. I lowered my voice and whispered, “I need you, and so does my body.”

“Are you wet right now? Just from hearing my voice?”

“I’m turned-on.”

“But are you wet?”

“Maybe. A little.”

“Find out.”

I giggled. “You mean…”

“Yes. Touch yourself.”

I giggled again.

“Please,
bella,
” Peter said, his voice raspy. “I need to know.”

“Okay,” I said. I slipped my hand into my panties. Dipped my finger into my folds. “Mmm. Yes, I’m wet.”

Peter’s deep groan rumbled through the phone line, and the sound sent a jolt of desire straight to my clit. “Are you wearing panties?”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.”

“Really?” I glanced around the room. The cat was on her bed near the door, staring at me curiously.

“Please,
bella.
I need you to take them off. Take them off and touch yourself.”

I didn’t need Peter to ask again. I lowered the phone and slipped my panties down my thighs.

“Okay,” I said when I picked the receiver up again. “I took them off.”

“Are you wearing anything else?”

“A black negligee…but it’s pulled up around my waist.”

“Beautiful.” Peter groaned again, and now I could hear the sound of him stroking his cock. “I can picture you, on your back with your legs spread slightly, showing me your pussy. I wish I could taste you right now.”

I swallowed. “This is only going to make me more crazy.”

“Play with your beautiful pussy. I want to hear you come.”

Again, I looked at the cat, but she’d lowered her head and closed her eyes. Good. I switched the phone to my left ear so I could touch myself with my right hand.

“Are you touching your pussy?” Peter asked.

“Yes…” I ran a finger over my clit in slow circles.

“Do you know how much I love to touch you? How much I love the way your clit gets hard when you are turned-on? Play with it until you come.”

“I am…” The pressure was building. I closed my eyes, remembering his touch.

“But what I love most is when your pussy is in my mouth. The sounds you make when my tongue is flicking over your clitoris. How your breathing changes…”

His voice was stoking my internal flame as much as the memory of his physical touch. “Oh, my goodness, Peter.”

“Are you going to come?” I could hear his strokes, faster now.

“Almost…I’m almost there.”

“That’s the first thing I’m going to do tomorrow. Make love to your pussy with my mouth. Push my tongue so far inside you—”

I exploded, screaming Peter’s name as I did. I rode the wave of pleasure, pushing my fingers deep inside my pussy the way Peter had described doing with his tongue.

“I’m coming, baby!” Peter yelled, then groaned long and hard with his own release.

My orgasm left me breathless, the same way Peter sounded. As his own breathing returned to normal, I smiled into the receiver. “That was amazing,” I purred. “And you weren’t even here with me.”

“Imagine what it will be tomorrow night.”

Imagine was all I could do. I dreamed about being with Peter, and in every scenario, we were fucking.

On his bed. In his bathtub. On the sofa.

Even on the balcony.

“What is it about him that is so damn irresistible?” I asked myself when I woke up in the morning, hardly rested at all. I’d been too wired and anxious to sleep deeply.

And yet, I was smiling.

Smiling because I would see Peter soon.

I did wonder how Andrew was doing, but only briefly. When I thought about Andrew, it only brought me down, while thinking about Peter excited me and made me forget the pain of Andrew’s betrayal.

The phone rang when I was in the kitchen making coffee, and I quickly snatched the receiver off its base on the wall. “Hello?”

“My, oh, my, don’t you sound excited. Who were you expecting?”

The sound of Marnie’s voice yanked my thoughts away from Peter. “Hey, Marnie,” I said. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I thought you wanted me to come over this morning.”

For a moment, I was confused. Then I remembered that she’d promised to come over and help me pack Andrew’s things. “Right, right. Sure, you can come over.”

“Is someone there with you?” she asked, almost in a singsong tone.

“No. It’s just me and Peaches. So, whenever you’re ready.”

“You still want to do this?” she asked.

“I’m only putting his stuff in the garage,” I said. “Not burning it.” Time would tell what would happen between me and Andrew, but right now, I was totally focused on Peter.

And on reacquainting myself with his cock later tonight.

“So yeah,” I went on. “I still want to do this.”

“I’m just going to jump into the shower and I’ll be right over.”

“Great.”

With Peter still out of town, this was the best time to pack up Andrew’s things. Because once he was back, I wouldn’t be spending much time at home.