Mov… Wait, They’re Talking?

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Ass

Of course he’d be the one person on the planet to find me. Three and a half months of peace and quiet, hidden deep in the wilds of the U.P. at one of my sister’s cabin hideaway. Time to heal my heart and soul. Well, maybe not totally heal either of those, maybe just long enough for a thick scab to grow over the nagging aches. I’d stepped onto my front porch to grab some wood for the fire, not noticing the big four wheel drive truck parked beside mine. Never saw him either, standing beside it.

After dropping my load of split wood into the box and tossing a couple of pieces into the stove, I heard a knocking at my door. I frowned at it, even as I stood to move to it. I held the handle, debating on whether or not to open it, feeling the whole door shake with the psycho banging on the other side.

“Who the…” I snarled, whipping the door open wide.

There he stood. Dark circles under his eyes. His hair slick and dirty under his hat. His normally tanned skin, pale as never before. His shoulders slumped. His hand still raised to knock, shaking, in open air. My husband. Literally, the man of and in my dreams. Every night.

“Dari.”

“You! What the fuck do you want? Y’know what? Don’t even bother to start talking. Just get back in however you got here and go the fuck away.”

“Now that I see that you’re alright, not a problem.” His whiskey voice sending shivers and aches through my traitorous body. I watched him turn and walk back to the truck, still feeling my heart thump madly just seeing him. Even if it’s seeing him walking away.

I watched until he climbed into the truck and started it, meeting his eyes through the windshield and wishing I could just run and be with my husband again before I went inside and slammed the door.

“My god, she’s amazing.” He breathed, trapped by her blazing green eyes, the fearlessness straightening her much slighter frame. He started the truck when he realized he was staring at her closed door.

He drove back to his hotel room in a haze of memories so vivid he could taste her. Her mouth. Her quim. Her sweet cum. He parked outside of his hotel room, sighing with the emptiness that filled him. Resolved to continue his sobriety, he shambles unsteadily to his door, unlocked it and went in, leaning heavily on it.

His eyes took in the run down, shabby, outdated room and realized just how far he’d fallen. Every one of his dreams had come true and he threw them all away. ‘For what? Why?’ he asked himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror across the room.

He shrugged out of the heavy winter coat, letting it drop to the floor as he shakily made his way to the mirror. He flicked on the harsh overhead light, glaring into his own eyes.

“Because I believed a lie. I let myself get gut hooked and let them rip me apart. I let my daughter,” here, he swallowed hard, watching the tears rise in his eyes, “lie to me and let me ruin my own life. And I fucking destroyed it. Smashed it to fucking bits.”

“But why did I believe it? Even when I knew,” he gazed steadily into his own eyes, imploring for answers, “knew it all was shit and smoke and mirrors. It doesn’t matter what happened then. It made her who she is now.”

“And she’s fucking amazing. She’s indestructible. And what are you?” he glared, feeling the anger rising in his chest. “You’re a fucking drunk. Fucking pitiful has been drunk.”

The phone in his room rang, startling him from his self-examination. He sighed sadly, shivering through his detox, as he shuffled to the bed.

“Hello?”

“Key, did you find her? Is she alright?” Jazz’s voice came over the line. He could hear the worry in her voice, same as with her other sister, Helena.

“She’s alright. She’s amazing. Let her be. She’s working something out. From her greeting, I think she’ll be contacting you soon.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Key.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said and hung up. He stared at his hands, thinking what his next move would be. A few minutes later, his buddy Nick opened the door and came in.

“Did you find her?”

“Yeah.”

“She okay?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s indestructible.”

“She still pissed at you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Figure out how to get her back yet?”

“Groveling. Lots of groveling. Begging too. I might have to lose some blood too at some point.” Kian answered, lifting his gaze to Nick’s face. “Even then, she might just throw it back in my face and walk away completely.”

“If she really wanted to be gone, Key, she’d have filed papers and had you served. You’d probably already be divorced.”

“You think…?”

“Maybe. Just maybe. Take a fucking shower already.”

That was bahis firmaları eight months ago. The impetus for me to regain the world. Rise from the ashes in a blaze of unholy glee. A new book, the whirlwind of interviews, promotions, meet and greets and signings.

Keelan McRory, my new agent, led me into the large function room for this meet and greet. I shook hands with other authors and/or celebrities on this multi panel extravaganza and found my seat.

“Keelan, I need a drink.”

“What’ll you have? Tequila again?”

“A double please, before the doors open.”

“Better come with then.” She led me to the bar hidden in the corner. The bartender fixed up my shots, lime and chaser and a to-go bottle full of margaritas. Feeling steadier, I took my seat again with Keelan hovering behind me.

It’s been the only way to make me claw and spit and fight my way back through the crowds of up and comings, intent on taking my crown. Keelan made me care about that anyway.

New and terrifying phobias abused me daily. Afraid of public events. Afraid of being alone in crowds. Afraid of whoever may decide my future for me, be it me, a lover or stalker. Afraid of running into my husband. Afraid of what I still feel for him. Afraid of the emptiness I feel without him. Needing alcohol to face all this shit.

Feeling the two shots of tequila warming my veins, I took a deep breath and let it out as the doors opened and humanity poured in. Throughout the six hour event, I sipped at the to-go cup and had it refilled twice.

My fan line was interminable and I just kept signing and smiling. Until I looked up into my husband’s amber eyes. I lost the ability to breathe. He held out my newest hard cover for me to sign. I looked at the blank page and back up to his eyes, not seeing the dark circles, the pain haunting him from my booze addled brain.

I took his book, scrawled my name and no more and shoved it back to him. I saw his mouth move but heard nothing over the roaring in my ears. I blinked seeing him walk away, those broad shoulders, still slumped, but, sigh, holding my book tight to his chest.

“What did he say?” I asked Keelan after the last book was signed.

“He said that he was sorry that he ever believed the worst about you. And how there was no way he could ever make it right.” I snorted in disbelief as she led me out to her car, buckled my extremely drunk ass into her passenger seat. “He still seems heartbroken, desperate.”

I didn’t hear that either as I was already passed out.

Her eyes when she saw me were haunted, startled. Huge and green. They made my heart ache, knowing her pain was my fault. I’d brought the copy of her newest book I’d bought in the airport two days ago. Her words enflamed me, made me realize she was the only one who could complete me.

I let the memories flood me as I waited at the end of the line. She’d written of our last vacation before the shit hit the fan. The way I’d seduced her on the beach, made her scream. The way her eyes had gazed at me as we’d finally crawled exhausted and sated into bed. Like I was everything to her.

When she’d looked up, her eyes huge, I knew I had to say something.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, my angel. I never should’ve listened, let alone believe all that shit. I know now that you were the best thing I ever had in my life. I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my own stupidity.”

She scribbled her name and shoved the book back. Shoved it back like it burned her fingers. I picked it up, curled it to my chest as I turned, feeling her gaze still on me. I glanced back, finding her eyes still fixed on me, a dream hinting there before she blinked, shook herself and took another swig from the to go cup.

From the doorway, I watched her agent/handler gather her up and lead her to the side exit. When she stumbled in the doorway I realized that she was drunk and my heart sank.

“Please, whatever gods are up there and listening to me, let her stop hurting so much. Make her pain my own. Let me take it from her. Please. I still love her.” I whispered, watching her flow like a puddle into the passenger seat.

It was another three months before I saw him again, at least outside of my dreams. Almost every night, when I wasn’t totally fucked up by tequila, I dreamed of him. The places we’d gone to. Cozumel, the six nights we’d spent fucking everywhere. The beach. The secluded waterfall, hidden in a deep grotto that echoed our combined howls for everyone in a four mile radius to hear.

Ireland, where he’d made me howl beside a ring of stones. Where he’d learned and sung my ancestors heart wrenching kaçak iddaa love songs. Amsterdam, where we’d enjoyed the taxi boats and coffeehouses, lazy loving in his penthouse. I ached for him.

I’d just finished a full day of interviews and had just sat down at the hotel’s bar, sipping at my first margarita when I looked down the bar and met my husband’s eyes. I noticed how tired he looked and how much weight he’d lost. Seeing him now made my heart ache.

He held my gaze, his expression so neutral, so distant. His handsome face a still mask. Those warm amber eyes cool and wary.

“Hello Kian.”

“Dari.” He breathed. “You still take my breath away.”

“Bullshit. You look tired, Key.”

“I am.” He answered simply. He watched me for another minute before he stood and walked to sit beside me. “Dari, I don’t even know where to begin…”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll apologize for being such a dickheaded coward for the rest of my life. And I’ll wish that I’d never listened and wasted all this time, when I could’ve, should’ve been there for you. Especially when you needed me most.”

“Key, please.”

“Dari, I’m sorry. I hope someday you might be able to forgive me. I’ll understand if you never do.”

“I am soooo not ready for this.” I groaned, taking two fistfuls of my hair and shaking it roughly. “Key, I’m still mad and I don’t know if I can even like you again. I’m not ready for this.”

“Have a drink with me then and I’ll leave you alone.”

“One drink and you’ll go?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. One drink. Tequila, please.” The bartender brought over the tequila bottle, poured two shots, set limes beside them and backed away silently, leaving the bottle. I lifted my shot to clink with his, meeting his amber gaze.

“To your continued success, my love.” Lost, instantly lost in those eyes of his, ensnared completely. “Drink, love.”

Absently, without taking my gaze from his, I swallowed the liquor, bit the lime. I felt my inner maenad pacing feverishly, snarling, and aching to sink her fangs and claws into him. I felt my heart thudding heavily in my chest. I got caught by his mouth, his thick brush mustache and succulently full bottom lip, remembering how it felt against mine, how it tasted, how much I wanted to taste it again.

He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me to meet his lips with mine. He tasted the same, just as delicious, as addicting. His lips sweet and succulent, sweet heaven, is that my heart pounding so hard? His tongue touched mine, swamping me with memories, electrifying me enough to push away.

I know he saw the surprise in my eyes just before I sprinted past him. I held it together until I got to my room but, it was close. I turned on the shower, full blast and hot, ripping my clothes off and almost diving into the stall so I could let these painful wails, shrieks and howls out before they broke me all over again.

Shivering in the now cold shower is how Keelan found me, almost comatose. Without a word, she shut off the water, bundled me into warm towels to dry me off before she slid my softest, warmest pajamas over my head. Once she settled me under the covers, she asked what happened.

“I went into the bar and he was there. Kian. He apologized, repeatedly. Freaked me out. He asked me to drink one drink with him. One. I could do that, right? I did it. And then he kissed me.”

“He kissed you.”

“Yeah.” I breathed softly, sighed really, remembering how he tasted. How it had felt to be kissing him again, feeling a familiar warmth ignite deep in my chest and between my thighs.

“After he repeatedly apologized for being an ass?” she asked watching me carefully, noticing the dreamy hints sparkling around the edges of my eyes.

“Yeah. I just can’t…”

“Accept his apology?” When she said it, I felt like a shrew. Felt like the stuck up twatsicle I was behaving like. A total cuntopotomus. And I didn’t like it, at all. I glared up into her Kerry blue eyes, seeing her implacable determination and clear reason.

“I’ll tell him when I see him next.”

“Whenever that may be, let me be there to see it. Witness it.”

“You think all my problems, my phobias will just up and disappear if I accept his apology? If I forgive him his cowardice? If I forgive him for leaving me alone and vulnerable? I don’t think so, Keelan. I don’t.”

“Dari, you’ve faced so much. You stood and took everything they threw at you with grace and tact. You never waffled on anything any of those investigators asked you. You laid your teenage years bare, with a humility I’ve never seen before. I have always admired that about you. Your unwavering outer strength.”

“And kaçak bahis my inner is a quivering, fearing, huddled mess.”

“If you just give it time, give him some time.”

I sighed with frustration and pulled the blankets over my head, shutting her out. I closed my eyes, seeing my husband standing beside me, close enough to smell his cologne, his totally just ‘him’ musk. Still that sandalwood, piney fresh scent.

I watched as he watched me, watching my throat move, swallowing the tequila. I watched his eyes darken with lust as he kept watching. Just like they had last night and every time he’d looked at me.

Felt his big hand cup my skull, so firmly but so gently. Felt him pull. Felt his mouth meshing with mine. Felt my heart triphammering in my chest. Felt my body betraying me, swaying into him, yearning for the feel of his skin hot on mine. Felt my fingers rubbing my clit, wishing they were his, replaying it over and over until I could almost feel my husband over me once more, making me cum as only he could, until I slept.

“Nick, I’m at a loss.”

“She’s still pissed?”

“Seems to be. On the outside, that is.”

“She’s not as pissed as she used to be? That’s progress. So how do you figure she’s not that pissed? Did she actually talk to you this time?”

“Actually she did.”

“Spit venom?” Nick teased from thirteen hundred miles away.

“No. She’s not ready yet. She still wants me, I could tell when I kissed her.”

“You kissed her? Did she bite you?”

“No,” Key said with a laugh. Rusty, but still a laugh. “I could feel it. Every fiber of my being is absolutely sure of it.”

“Well, the ball’s in her court. What do you think she’s gonna do?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Well, best of luck to you buddy. Eat something and go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks buddy.” I clicked off my cell, putting it on the nightstand before I sat on my bed for the night. Another night without her. Another night without the booze. One more day closer to getting my wife back. I settled back on the pillows, opening her latest book and beginning to reread it for the fourth time. Somewhere in here she’s given me the clues, the answers to get her back. Somewhere.

I saw him downstairs at breakfast, sipping his coffee by the windows. I filled a cup for myself, mixed in my cream and sugar, grabbed a blueberry muffin and sat down across from him.

His amber eyes were warm but wary, watching as I settled in, peeling my muffin in half. His hands still, midway to his mouth with his coffee.

“Good morning, Key.” I said, meeting his eyes as I popped a bite of muffin in my mouth.

“Good morning Dari. Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in an awfully long time.” I smiled tentatively, seeing a smile hinting at his eyes, waiting.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He said finally sipping his coffee.

“Then you’ll like this even more. I accept your apology.”

“You do?” He set his cup down with a brisk rattle, his eyes surprised. That smile now teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“I do. As long as you understand, I’m not now interested in what we had.” I said softly, gently, knowing that smile would fade and die.

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m not. Maybe, in time we could be friends again.”

“Friends?” he echoed, his eyes darkening.

“Kian, I need some time to get my head right. Please, let me have it.” I asked, reaching out to touch his hand with mine, feeling that same jolt I’ve felt every time I touched him. I watched him glance down at my hand on his, glance up to meet my eyes.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world…Wife.” I felt my heart hammering, thumping wildly. I knew he not only felt it through my hand but saw it in the pulse in my neck. I felt that familiar warmth flow over me like an electric blanket, cocooning me.

It took every bit of my strength to pull my hand away slowly and rise from the table, my gaze fixed on his, when all I wanted was to curl up in his lap and stay there.

“I dreamed of you last night.” I admitted before turning and walking away quickly without looking back. If I had, would I have seen that smile I missed, blooming over his face, infusing it with joy?

When I dreamed of him that night, I did turn. His smile alone warmed the cold emptiness in my heart. When he rose from the table to stop me, his hand warm on mine as he pulled me back to him, to his kiss. His tender ministrations, his worshipping of my body warmed my soul. And I knew, I needed my husband like I needed air to breathe. Only with him would we both be whole again.

‘Turn around. Turn around, damn it. Please.’ He thought, standing to watch her stride quickly through the atrium. She accepted his apology. It’s a start. As she always mumbled under her breath when her deadlines were near, soonest begun, soonest done. Soon enough she’d come home.

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