The Secret Wife (17 page)

She crossed to the small library by the front door. The quiet offered her a place to think. The drapes were open at the window and she walked over to stare out into the night. An outside light illuminated the rain and a few bushes just beyond the building. But she didn’t see the well-tended grounds. Instead she remembered being with Cole while they were still engaged. She remembered long hours at his apartment when he would hold her and kiss her. She’d enjoyed that a lot, although she’d always sensed he kept himself under tight control. A part of her had feared what would happen when he took what he wanted.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. He’d honored her request to remain a virgin until they were married. Their wedding night had been a nightmare. Preparing for the day had left her exhausted and tearful. Cole had prowled their honeymoon suite with the restless energy of a caged leopard. She’d known what he wanted, what he had every right to claim. She’d wanted only to be held.

But she’d believed it was wrong to ask for that, after she’d denied him for so long. So she’d changed into the beautiful white nightgown her sisters had bought her, and she’d stood by the bed.

She’d asked that he turn out the lights, so in her mind there were only unexpected movements in the dark. He’d entered her gently, but she’d been tight and it had hurt even before he’d broken through the barrier of her innocence. She’d cried then, silently while he’d thrust into her and hoarsely called her name, then later, alone in the bathroom, using a thick towel to muffle her sobs.

The rest of their honeymoon had been a blur of lush tropical sights and couplings in the dark. She remembered Cole trying to go slowly, wanting to touch her and kiss her as he had before they’d been married. She’d been the one encouraging him to just enter her and get it over with. The sooner he started, the sooner it would be finished.

She thought about the sensations she’d felt tonight while they were playing the game and Cole had stood so close to her. For a long time she’d assumed there was something wrong with her. She saw couples in movies and on television, she read books in which characters fell in love. The women all seemed to feel something, to want their mate as much as he wanted her. The moans of pleasure had always made her uncomfortable. What on earth were they going on about?

Occasionally, not often but sometimes when she and Cole had made love, it had been pleasant. She remembered a Saturday morning when he hadn’t had to go to work. He’d brought her breakfast in bed, then they’d talked together. He’d brushed her hair, then had spent the longest time kissing her neck and back. When he’d entered her that time, there hadn’t been any pain at all. She vaguely recalled a sense of anticipation. But she hadn’t “exploded” into anything, the way they talked about it in books.

Elissa understood instinctively that her rejection of Cole in bed had been the breaking point of their marriage. She didn’t know how or why, but by refusing him sexually, she’d refused the essence of the man.

Was there a way to make up for that? Was there a way to take back her words and actions? Was she sure things would be different this time? After all, why would the lovemaking be any better?

“It doesn’t matter,” she told herself. She wanted a second chance with Cole, and if that meant putting up with a little pain and some awkward touching in the dark, she would.

And when you leave me this time?

Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered his words. No matter what, he would always believe she would leave him. She couldn’t blame him for that. She had abandoned him, first sexually, then physically. Gaining his trust was going to be difficult.

“Elissa?”

She turned and saw Cole standing in the doorway of the library. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. I wanted to make sure you’re all right. You got very quiet at the end of the game. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

She stared at his familiar face. The dark eyes, the high cheekbones, the shape of his mouth. His perfection gave her pause. How could this man ever have loved someone like her? What had she done to deserve him? How could she have been so stupid as to let him go?

A small fire crackled at the far end of the room. Fighting the fear that he would reject her, or worse, say something so scathing she would be scarred for life, she took his hand and led him to the sofa in front of the fire.

“Have a seat,” she said lightly, releasing his fingers and waiting to see if he would join her.

Several expressions darted across his face. Concern, curiosity, mistrust, acceptance.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he settled on the far end of the sofa.

She took the corner opposite. The couch was small and they weren’t that far apart. If he stretched his fingers out along the back and she did the same, they could easily hold hands. Not that that particular piece of information was going to be useful tonight. It was unlikely that Cole was feeling that friendly toward her.

Beyond the snap of the fire and the silence of the room she heard nothing. “Have the others gone to bed?” she asked.

“For the most part. A couple of the older kids are still up reading, but they’re in their rooms.”

So they were alone. She took a deep breath. She had no planned speech, nothing beyond a need to connect.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” she said. “Being with you reminds me of the past. We’ve both changed. I know I’ve grown up in the past five years and now I can see things more clearly.”

He didn’t respond. Except for a slight tightening around his mouth, he might not have heard her at all.

Fear made her shudder, but she forced herself to continue. This was important—for both of them.

“I can see the mistakes I made in the marriage. The biggest one was leaving. I’m sorry I did that. It seemed so right at the time. I thought we’d both already given up on the marriage and there was no point in hanging on to something that was dead. But it wasn’t dead. I think we gave up on our marriage too soon. What do you think?”

Cole stared at her, at the light and shadow from the firelight playing on her face. He’d always thought she was beautiful; tonight even more so. She had an otherworldly quality about her, as if she was some mystical creature more part of a dream than of the waking world.

Did he think they’d given up on their marriage too soon? He couldn’t answer that question—he didn’t dare ask it of himself. If he did, he might unleash a need so powerful, he would be swept away forever. He wouldn’t allow himself to get that lost again. What if he didn’t find his way back?

“Cole?”

She bit her lower lip. Her agony was obvious. She’d put herself on the line and was hoping for some response from him. A word, an action, anything.

He couldn’t speak; the risk was too great. He might say something dangerous to himself. He might admit to a feeling he’d long since buried. So he chose action instead.

He slid across the sofa until their knees pressed together. Moving slowly, so she would understand what he was going to do and have ample time to pull away, he drew her into his arms. But instead of leaning back, she melted against him. Instead of protesting, her mouth parted as if she anticipated his kiss. Instead of pushing to escape, her hands rested on his shoulders and urged him closer.

His lips touched hers. In the back of his mind he waited for the rejection, but it never came. Instead, her mouth clung to his, almost seeking, as if this was what she’d wanted all along.

She smelled sweet and womanly, the scent of her skin as tempting as he remembered. Even knowing she was going to reject him, he angled his head and deepened the kiss.

He pressed his lips against hers, wanting to feel all of her. He brushed back and forth, discovering sensitive skin he’d only been able to dream about. The reality was better than what he’d remembered. While his hands still spanned her back, she was more relaxed than he recalled, her muscles seeming to respond to his touch with quivering awareness.

She slipped one hand up his scalp, moving her fingers through his hair, letting the short strands fall back. With her other hand she squeezed his shoulder, as if anchoring herself to him.

Passion grew. His arousal throbbed in aching counterpoint to his heart. His chest tightened. Blood roared in his ears.

He moved one hand to her neck and touched the soft skin there. She moaned. At the sound, her lips parted slightly and he crept inside.

The moist warmth beckoned. Her tongue met his, brushing gently against him, welcoming. Powerful need flooded him. He held back, not wanting to plunge too quickly, not wanting to frighten her.

As he swept across the sensitive skin of her inner lip, she arched against him. The hand at his shoulder tightened. She tilted her head more, opened her mouth wider, urging him on. He felt himself falling deeper into mindlessness. He knew the danger of going there, but how was he to resist her?

As their tongues circled and explored, as hot, fiery sensations shot through him, he found himself wanting her more than he ever had before.

He moved his hand up to her ear and traced the shell-like shape. She pulled back slightly as a soft giggle escaped her throat.

They broke the kiss and stared at each other. Passion dilated her eyes. With her lips parted and damp from his kisses, she was the most amazing woman he’d ever seen. For reasons he would never understand, the only woman he’d ever loved had returned to his life.

Slowly, tentatively, she pressed her mouth to his. He let her, holding back the need to plunge and claim. Instinctively he understood she needed to find her own pace. When her tongue tested the seam of his mouth, he parted for her. She darted inside, touching tip to tip, before retreating. A shudder rippled through him.

“Cole,” she murmured, then pressed her mouth to his neck. She licked his skin. Every muscle in his body went rock hard. His groin flexed painfully. He forced himself to lower his hands to his sides and not respond.

She discovered him. Like a cat sniffing out a new room, she touched, kissed and even nibbled her way across his neck and up to his face, pausing at some places, returning a second time to others. Cool fingers traced his eyebrows, his cheekbones and his nose. She leaned close and took his earlobe in her mouth. Her sucking motion nearly drove him to his knees. Every cell in his body cried out for release. He wanted to rip the clothes from her and find rest between her silken thighs. Yet he continued to do nothing. The joy of her touching him was better than release. He’d always wanted her to touch him, had always hungered for that kind of contact.

She shifted until she was kneeling on the sofa. Dropping her hands to his shoulders, she urged him to lean back, then she straddled him, settling her hot feminine center against his thighs. He wanted to touch her there. Not sexually, although he wouldn’t mind doing that, but to find out if she was aroused. In the long nights after she’d left, he’d had time to think about what had gone wrong between them. Some of it, he’d admitted, had been his fault. At times he’d taken her when she wasn’t ready. He’d wanted to hold back, but he’d been young and horny, and she’d insisted. With the hindsight of years of loneliness, he realized that he’d been a less than perfect lover.

His excuses were pitiful at best—youthful impatience and fear. Fear that he was going to lose her anyway, but if he claimed her often enough, she might not go. Perhaps he’d secretly wanted to get her pregnant, hoping that a child could make her love him in a way he could not accomplish on his own.

Her mouth against his drew him back to the present. As she bent down, her hair swung forward, concealing them in a private world of golden curls. Her hands rested on his shoulders and her lips parted, drawing him inside.

He couldn’t resist her. He plunged into her mouth, seeking solace and passion in equal measures. She took all of him, caressing him, moving her hips slightly as if to urge him on.

He took her at her word. He placed his hands on her thighs, then moved them higher up her hips to her waist. There he paused, absorbing the heat of her kiss until his blood boiled and his muscles began to tremble. Only then did he move higher still, slipping around to her rib cage before finally reaching her breasts.

As his fingers gently touched the undersides of her curves, he felt the unmistakable coolness of withdrawal. Her back stiffened and her thighs tightened around his, but not in desire. Her hands pressed against his shoulders and she pushed away.

“Cole, I…”

He dropped his hands to her waist and moved her off him. “Don’t bother,” he said harshly, need reduced to ashes, and anger taking its place. “I remember the message. Look but don’t touch, right?”

He stood and walked to the window. Humiliation tightened his chest. How many times had she done this to him? How many times had he done it to himself? He couldn’t believe his needs and desires were different from any other man’s, yet Elissa had the unique ability to make him feel like a rutting animal.

He heard her speak, yet the images from the past blotted out her voice. He recalled all the times they’d made love because he wanted to. How, despite his requests, she’d never once initiated anything, had never once touched him. He remembered her lying in bed, unresponsive, urging him to “get it over with.” He remembered her turning away. Eventually she’d gotten tired of pretending.

“To answer your question,” he said bitterly. “No, we didn’t give up on our marriage too soon. The mistake was getting married in the first place.”

She had moved up behind him. He saw her reflection in the window. “You can’t mean that,” she said, her eyes dark with pain. “I won’t believe it.”

“Believe what you want, it’s true. You never wanted me. Not from the beginning. It would have been a hell of a lot easier on both of us if you’d had the courage to tell me the truth.”

Pain twisted her mouth. “I did want you. In my way.”

He spun to face her. “What does that mean? You wanted to hold hands and pass notes after class? I’m a man, Elissa. Not some adolescent you can toy with.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right about that. I’m a man, with a man’s needs. I’m not a boy. I thought you were grown up before, and I was wrong. Obviously that hasn’t changed.”