The Fight for Us (42 page)

She nodded her head as her breath lurched, and she let her body relax as he slid her pants down her hips, stripped her underwear from her legs, and even pulled her socks from her feet. As his hands pushed up under her shirt and he started lifting it over her head, his palms drifted lightly over her breasts.

She shivered feeling the tight peaks of her nipples constrict instantly.

“Shh…” his warm reassurance soothed the completely conflicted emotions she couldn’t seem to pin down for long enough to sort out.

She wanted and she dreaded in the same heartbeat. She could remember so clearly what it was to submit to him—the pleasure, the intense, driving arousal that ended with an eruption of satisfaction, the close and intimate touches that he seemed just as aware of as she—though she’d never known a man to see it so clearly as a woman.

She remembered it all, as though it was a drunken dream. She knew it was close. She knew it was her, but she’d be damned if she could grab hold of the memory for long enough to let it become her reality. It couldn’t remain a memory. It had to be her life again, because she understood very well that it was the only life she wanted at this point—even if she couldn’t clutch it long enough to capture it.

He hushed her again when she sobbed out in frustration as he pulled her body close. Her nipples brushed against his pecs as he guided her body up close to his, and she was left breathing against the front of his throat.

“What if I can never get back to where we were?” She so desperately wanted and needed him to refute that statement, because she simply couldn’t let herself think this was lost.

He brushed his finger over her nipple, and when he pushed his hand between her legs and slipped his finger between her lips, he groaned and she gasped. It was one single brush of his finger, but as he lifted it to her lips, he ran the wetness across her lower lip. “You will. Patience.”

“That’s your thing. You’ll recall I’m no good at patience.” Her sarcasm was bitter, but she wasn’t trying to be rude.

He seemed to understand that, and as he chuckled, sending the warm vibration out from his chest and into hers, she sighed.

“I’m well aware just how impatient you can be. Give your heart time to reconcile this. My patience can deal with the rest of it.”

She nodded, and she snuggled up close to him.

* * * *

When Joss’s alarm went off the next morning, she cussed at it. She actually went so far as to tell it to “fuck off,” and as Isaiah’s warm chuckle enveloped her annoyance and pushed it out of her mind, she rolled toward him.

“Do I have to?”

“You promised Nat you would if she would.”

“But I’m still poisoned. I could be radioactive. Doesn’t that absolve me from having to work?”

His hand trailed up the inside of her thigh, and as his fingers brushed over the lips of her sex, her breath shuttered and she moaned. He delved and then he pushed, filling her with two fingers at once. He didn’t thrust, he didn’t fuck, he didn’t do anything at all that suggested he was trying to arouse her. Instead, he stilled, and he watched her.

But it didn’t matter what he was trying to do to her body, because as he held his fingers in place, stretching and distending her, she warmed and flooded with wetness. As he started to pull his fingers gently from her, he moaned. He’d felt her wetness. As his moan turned to a hum, he thrust gently just a couple times before finally pulling his hand from her.

“Nothing toxic at all. I promise you’re right as rain, and as perfect too.” And then he leaned to her ear. “Your pussy’s also wet as hell right now.” He pulled back, watching her, and the mere deep sound of his voice left her sheath quivering and clenching at nothing at all. She finally crawled from bed, dreading that she couldn’t simply stay with him.

But she turned back as she reached the bathroom door. “You don’t have to work. It’s kind of not fair.” She was pouting, and he smiled.

“Trust me, I will. As long as I can keep my ass out of trouble, I’ll be knee deep in Bristol public policy by spring.” He winked, and she walked away to the shower.

When she emerged, she brushed her teeth, twisted her hair back in a bun, and walked out to the bedroom. He was gone, and she dressed quickly. She slipped into the only pair of slacks he’d packed for her, and she paired it with a turtleneck. It wasn’t her normal level of dress, but she didn’t suppose she had any appointments for the day regardless.

* * * *

Joss’s day was long and awkward. It was an exceptionally slow time of year on the island, now that the ferry wasn’t running, and even the open ice road didn’t bring many folks from the mainland—never mind the fact no one wanted to move when it was sub-zero. She spent her time hiding in her office from Randall. She couldn’t stand even the sight of him at the moment, but when she had to make a trip up to the front desk, she ran into him anyway.

He glanced away from her quickly, hell he didn’t even stare at her tits. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous, and she guessed he likely was. News traveled fast on this island, and Randall was without doubt aware his good friend Todd was in jail. Regardless of whether Randall knew why Todd was sitting in a jail cell didn’t seem to matter. The man simply couldn’t figure out how to act around her. Joss on the other hand wasn’t nervous at all. She wanted to punch his annoying face, and rather than do that, she glared.

When he tried to say hi to her, she instantly snapped back, “Fuck off.”

By that night when she returned home, she was dragging. The girls and Isaiah were already sitting at the dining room table, talking excitedly about the volleyball match the next night. Isaiah had actually cooked. She didn’t assume he was incapable or anything, but she was still surprised to see something loosely resembling breaded chicken tenders and broccoli on the table. She shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair before she sank into it.

“Hi.” He spoke quietly to her as he reached over and covered her hand with his. He looked about as tired as she felt.

“Hi.” She smiled.

The side of his lip pulled up slightly, and she trilled with warmth as the heat coursed through her veins for a moment. Her cheeks felt flushed, and she suddenly felt shy as hell for some reason. It oddly felt like her life with Isaiah before they’d had sex—or maybe it felt like after the first time they’d accidentally had sex. It just felt strange. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, except to say she felt a little juvenile and nervous—not at all like an adult who could handle her sex.

“You okay?” He was watching her quizzically, and she felt the heat in her cheeks intensifying instantly.

She nodded. “Uh… I don’t have any clothes for work tomorrow.” She glanced at him. “I’m going to need to get over to the house and—”

“It’s taken care of.” He looked back down at his plate, and the girls were suddenly quiet, looking between the two of them.

“What do you mean?”

“I packed up all the clothes today. Harper’s are in the bedroom she’s already claimed as hers, and yours are already put away.” Again he glanced at her but looked away quickly.

“Why would you do that?” She instantly cringed at the accusatory tone of her voice.

When he wiped his mouth, dropped his napkin on the plate, and pushed it away, she stilled and waited for his anger.

“You know why. You’re not going back there. In case you weren’t aware, that house is still on the market. What? You think he’s suddenly going to decide to keep the house and, out of the generosity of his heart, let you stay there? That house is his way of keeping you dependent on him.” He glanced quickly to the girls. “Even now.” It was as much as he could say in front of them.

She stared at her plate, struggling to figure out what the hell to say to that with both Nat and Harper there.

“Mom, what’s the big deal? I want to live here. Why don’t you want—?”

“It’s not that simple.” She interrupted Harper.

“Yes, it is! God, you don’t make any sense!” Harper was losing her cool as she often did. “You’re the one who let him stay in our life. You’re the one who let him control you.”

Joss’s eyes started tearing, and she stared at her lap as she fought it.

“You’re the one who let him walk all over you!”

“Enough!” Isaiah’s loud and dominant voice silenced her in an instant, and before even Harper could retort, he continued. “You will not speak to her that way. If you want to disagree, do it with respect, but don’t you dare criticize her choices. You haven’t lived her life, and you don’t have the right.” His voice was low and commanding as he pinned Harper to her chair with his searing eyes. She crossed her arms and harrumphed in response.

Instead of falling apart at the table, Joss stood and carried her plate to the sink, dumping her barely touched food in the garbage disposal. She busied herself cleaning up the kitchen, and when Nat cleared the table, setting the plates beside the sink, Joss tried to smile at her. Nat just looked worried. When Joss glanced back at the table, Harper was still sitting with her arms crossed, looking furious, and Isaiah had his elbows planted on the table with his hands clasped together against his forehead.

“You girls need to do your homework. I know you both have composition portfolios due soon.” He’d reined in his tone, and as he stood, he turned and walked from the room toward his bedroom without another word.

Joss sat in the chair across from Harper, and she waited for her daughter to look at her. Harper avoided it for a moment, but eventually, she took a deep breath and let her attention shift to Joss from the spot in the middle of the table she’d been focusing on.

“I’m sorry.” Harper mumbled. “But what’s wrong with being here? Don’t you want to be here with him?”

Nat looked on awkwardly for a second before leaving toward her bedroom.

“Yes. I just don’t want to make the same mistakes I made before by letting myself depend on a man.”

“What’s wrong with depending on a good man? My dad’s a jerk. Isaiah isn’t.” Then she scoffed again. “I mean, he can be a jerk.” She muttered sarcastically, but then she was all business. “He’s not like my dad.”

Joss nodded slowly, and when she took a deep breath, she let her head sink back to stare at the ceiling. “I know.”

“You had no problem agreeing to live in my dad’s house, and he’s a jerk, but you’re not willing to live in Isaiah’s, and he’s actually a good guy.”

“That’s just it, Harp. It was wrong of me to allow your dad to stay in my life. And…” Joss shook her head for a moment. “…it set a really bad example for you. I want to set the right example.” Joss’s eyes were tearing again.

But so were Harper’s. “You’re the only parent I have. You’re the only one who ever took care of me—who ever loved me. You think that’s the wrong example?” Harper’s voice was shrill as her tears fell and her focus shifted down to the table between them. But shrill with Harper meant she was emotional about this, and that fact wasn’t missed on Joss. “I’m happy here. They’re
good
people. And you love him. Why isn’t that enough for you?” Harper stared at her for a moment before she stood and walked from the room, leaving Joss to watch after her.

Joss didn’t have a clue what the hell to think. She’d thought her logic made sense, until pretty much everyone around her disagreed with her.

Why the hell wasn’t her brain making sense anymore? She could have sworn being independent, at least for a time, before jumping into dependence again was wise, healthy—hell, it’s what she was supposed to do from the moment her divorce was final. Suddenly even this decision was unclear—much like her brain had been for the past week.

She wanted to live here. So why was she making this difficult? Then she remembered everything about her life was difficult at the moment, and she was pretty sure she was responsible for making it that way. If she couldn’t figure out how the hell to chill out and let her life just be her life again, she might just destroy this.

By the time she pulled herself up from the table, she’d sat silently for well over thirty minutes listening to the mantle clock tick like a metronome, monotonously telling her she was wasting time in her stupor. She could hear the T.V. faintly from Nat’s room, and occasionally a giggle or a bout of laughter would echo down the hallway to her. The other hallway was silent.

She sought him out once she stood to her feet, and when she entered the bedroom, the bathroom door was cracked and the shower was running. The bedroom looked the same as always with the charcoal and cream colored quilt spread neatly out on the bed. One of the lamps was on, and it illuminated the space with its subtle and dim light. She didn’t know what she’d expected—her clothes to be strung out across the room or some neon flashing light above the bed announcing
Joss lives here
. But she’d just expected the place to feel different.

She flipped the closet light on, and when she caught sight of her clothes hung on the opposite wall of the walk-in from his, she sucked in a quick breath. Her suits, her skirts, her blouses—all were there as though they belonged in this home—as though she belonged. She hummed quietly as she considered it. Hell, she wasn’t considering anything. She was trying to force herself to embrace what she saw. It wasn’t hard. In truth, she wanted to embrace all of it. She simply didn’t want to regret it later.

She sighed as she stepped back out of the closet and flipped the light back off. When she heard a quiet moan from the bathroom, she sucked in a quick breath and she froze mid-stride, listening. The moan was followed by the sound of Isaiah’s breath catching in his throat and then a hiss as he inhaled sharply. When he moaned again, her knees shook, and she flooded with warmth. That shy, tentative feeling came over her again that she couldn’t seem to reconcile. Why should she feel so timid with the man she already had a relationship with? It was oddly terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

When she stepped into the steam filled bathroom, she bit her lower lip. She was fully aroused and desperate for something. His breath was still hitching quietly, and when a groan would escape him, it was subtle and often caught in his throat. The shower was a walk in, and as she peeked around the entrance into the enclosure, she froze and let her hand find the tiled wall beside her for support. She was sure this was completely inappropriate and wrong, but she’d be damned if she could look away.