A Thin Line (18 page)

"Do you want me to pay to–"

"No." I stop him with a finger to his lips. He puckers them and kisses my finger. "What I want is for you to take me to bed."

He pauses, then grins, and before I know it, I am yanked up from the couch and pulled in the direction of my bedroom. In seconds, we are under the thin blanket and crisp sheets, wrapped around one another. Preston's fingers crawl down my body again. I am ready and willing to take what he's about to dish out.

Two orgasms later, we are taking up every inch of my bed, both of us laying spread eagle in the sunlight streaming through the blinds in my bedroom. We hold hands, completely sated for the moment. There's something about having sex that makes a person want to have more sex. Finally having sex with Preston again made me want to never stop having sex with him.

I hear him swallow, then inhale a deep breath and give a long, luxurious sigh. I roll my head toward him and try to guess what that sigh is about. I can't tell by the side of his face, but I hope it means he is happy. 

He rolls toward me and leans onto an elbow, propping his head in the palm of one hand. "So, can I assume that your answer is yes?"

"My answer to what?"

His eyes roll almost to the back of his head. He reaches over and taps my thigh with a playful slap. "Evangeline."

"Oh, don't start with that."

"Well. Answer me."

"What is the question, Counselor? State it plainly for the court so it can be recorded."

"Can I have another chance with you?  Do you think we can be happy together?" His eyes lower to the colorful floral design of my sheets as he quietly submits the last question. "Do you still love me?"

It's my turn to inhale and then sigh. "I can't say I
still
love you. I wish I could, but I can't."

I watch him, expecting his shoulders to sag and disappointment to cloud his face. It doesn't, so he must have been expecting that answer.

"I can say that maybe… I could love you
again
. And that I'm willing to give this a try to see if we can make that happen. And if we find some happiness along the way, then..."

"Gravy, baby," he finishes, and we both laugh. He used to always say that.

"Are you disappointed?"

He leans over to drop a kiss on my lips. "You said what I expected you to say, but I had to ask. I figure that right now, I'll take what I can get until I can get more. But I'm not going anywhere and I'm not going to stop trying. I will get what I want. What I want is you."

I sit up, then move to straddle him, my hands resting on his chest. His grin is a mile wide and I just know he's so proud of himself. As he should be…he's managed to accomplish an impossible win.

"The only way I ever won a case against you is when you gave up. You play to win. I wouldn't expect anything less."

***

"What are you thinking about?"

I didn’t know he was awake. And not only awake but conscious that I was awake. And thinking.

I inhale through my nose and stretch the arm I'm not laying on toward the ceiling. I arch my back and chuckle while I listen to my bones creak and pop. It's honestly been so long since I had sex, vigorous sex at that, that in spite of all my running, I feel old and out of shape. This used to be so much easier.

The last remaining bits of sunlight stream between the slats in the blinds, sending a striped pattern across the carpet and the foot of the bed. Across the floor, piles of bedding lay where they landed hours before. Except for the sounds of Preston's breathing and hearty laughter at my struggle to wake up, the room is silent.

I roll over, the crisp sheets making a ‘swish' sound as I readjust myself. I know he's there, but I'm still mildly shocked to see Preston in my bed. Even more shocked that I have a smile for him and not a grimace or a witty, snappy comeback to something ugly that he said to me.  He's covered from the waist down by the ecru white top sheet, but it's not covering much. I can see the outline of...
everything
... as it rests on his body.

He opens his arms, inviting me to lie close to him. I take him up on it, molding myself to his body. I lay my cheek on his chest and smile at the sensation of the baby soft hair that covers his chest. And, if I remember correctly...

I lift the sheet to confirm.
Yep.
And he doesn't seem to be much at rest at the moment.

"Checkin' me out?" I laugh, though silently. "You're not talking to me? You're not mad, are you?"

"No," I manage to mumble, my tongue still thick with sleep. I'm exhausted. Satisfied, but exhausted. "I feel like if I start talking I'll say something stupid."

"You? You don't say stupid things."

I roll my head up so he can see me narrow my eyes at him. "Really, Preston? You're choosing now to suck up to me?"

Preston laughs. It's a beautiful sound that lands on my ear and embeds itself in my brain. "Okay. You've said a lot of stupid things. In fact, I don't think there's anything you could say right now that would top what you've already said. So you may as well say whatever's on your mind."

More than a minute goes by before I get the courage to whisper. "I'm embarrassed. And ashamed. And I feel stupid, so stupid."

I feel his arms around me, tight and growing tighter. His lips brush across my forehead and I already hear the protests rising in his throat. "Don't feel that way. Maybe we were both immature. Maybe we were both fighting feelings, but we couldn't have forced this to happen any sooner than it did."

I lift myself up and lean on an elbow so I can see his face while he's uttering these feel-good phrases. "You don't think I could have just
not
been a raging bitch that night? That maybe I could have been mad for like a week or a month and then let it go?"

He seems amused at my phrasing, like he doesn't want to agree that I was a raging bitch. But I was. He shrugs both shoulders and pouts. "Maybe. Maybe if I hadn't given up on getting you back.  Maybe if I didn’t try to make you jealous. Maybe if I had been honest about Stacey from the start. Maybe…."

Preston sits up, which forces me to sit up as well. I give up the effort in trying to cover myself. The sheet falls around my waist and he seems mesmerized by my bare breasts.

"Maybe…. what?"

He blinks, staring hard, mouth open. "Huh?"

I snap my fingers and bring his view back to my face.  "You were saying? About how you were immaturely trying to make me jealous by doing the very thing that made me break up with you?"

"Oh. Yeah, that. We’re on the same wavelength. If you think I'm not counting how long we would have been married, how many kids we would have had, how many happy years we would have had together, think again. Ever since that night on my patio, it's all I can think about."

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about that night," I admit. "The setting, the timing, our conversation. That kiss."

"You kissed me back. That's when I knew you still cared about me."

The warmth from that night washes over me as I reminisce about the first moment our lips touched in so many years, the surprise that gave way to passion after building for so long. And in hindsight, that was the moment I knew I was in trouble.  I also knew he was holding back and if I hadn't run away from him that night, we might have unleashed some lava-hot animal sex right there in front of the fire pit.

I feel the flush deepen and my nipples stand at attention. By force of habit, I grab the sheet and lift it up to my chest, tucking it underneath my arm pits.

Preston frowns, grabs the lip of the sheet and yanks it down. "Stop that. Don't be ashamed of your body. Or what thinking about us is doing to it."

"I'm not," I protest, grabbing the sheet again. "I'm cold."

His grin is evil, maniacal as he leans forward and presses his lips against mine, then pushes gently so I have to lean back. He tosses the sheet away so there is nothing between his body and mine and lies on top of me. I wrap my legs around his torso and my arms around his neck while his tongue invades my mouth and dances with mine. The moans that crawl from deep in his chest rumble through my body. I sigh into his mouth as we part.

"You're not cold, you liar. I can feel you. I feel everything."

An eyebrow lifts. "Everything?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Like?"

"Like... the heat you're giving off from here." He dips to kiss my neck, tiny drops of rain along my skin. "And here," he continues, as he slides down my body, taking first one nipple and then the other into his mouth. My body convulses with the rhythm of his tongue rasping over the dark brown tips.

"And finally..." He works his way down my belly and over my mound to my core, the most intimate, sensitive part of me. His tongue snakes out, testing and teasing, flicking and poking until I'm writhing and practically screaming. I grab his head and arch my hips and sink into orgasmic bliss for the I've-lost-count-of-how-many -times.

"Told you, you weren't cold."

I'm laid out across the bed without the energy to move again. "You realize that if that's my punishment for lying, I'll lie all the time now."

"That wasn't your punishment. That was me needing to be right."                      

"Right you were."

In a few minutes, I manage to turn myself so I'm lying next to him. One arm is draped around me, his hand resting on the rise of my hip. I've never been more comfortable in my life and part of me wishes we didn't ever have to move.

"So..." I start, but then stop. I have so many questions. I don't want to ruin the mood, but I'm lucid enough now that my common sense starts to tiptoe in and drop nuggets into my mind. Namely,
what the hell is going on?

"So?" He teases, rubbing whatever skin he can manage to cover by roving my hip and ass. "You never bit your tongue before. You never held back with me when the conversation was bitter, so don't start now that it’s sweet. I'm a big boy. I can take whatever you have to say."

I know he's right. Deep down, I do. But now that he's here, now that we seem to have reconciled, I don't want to be the reason that something else happens.

"Is there anything I need to be concerned about? We didn't use condoms. I don't even own condoms."

"What? You don't have a gigantic bag of condoms stashed under your bed?"

I laugh, even though he's picking on me. "Shut up."

"Whatever happened to those? Did you use them all, or...?”

"Are you really asking if I have used hundreds of condoms on men that aren't you? Are you that big of a boy? Can you take that?"

"Good point. Never mind." His palm rasps against beard stubble as he runs a hand down the side of his face. "You don't have anything to be worried about with me. I'm not riddled with disease."

"I figured that. I just…"

"Angie." His tone stops me from taking that sentence any further. "I would never try to be with you if I knew I had something. And I wouldn't be here if I hadn't have been recently tested and verified that I'm clean. If you want to see my test results, I'll show you."

"You don't have to do that. I believe you."

"I know it's hard, but know that I only have your best interests in mind. We have fought every day for the last... however many years but I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know. We had a crazy, vicious fight and then you waited for me to be done with my run before you left."

"I'm an asshole. But I'm also a gentleman."

This makes me laugh. Because it's true.

"What about you? You're not trying to trap me into becoming a dad, are you? Are we going to be the next Kent and Brandy, who can't talk about anything but their kids' soccer and golf leagues and PTA and how much sleep we don't get?"

"I’ve been on the pill since I had to go on it with you.  I'm not worried about getting pregnant but if you are–"

"I'm not worried about anything. I'm right where I want to be. If something happens, it happens. I can handle it. Can you?"

I lift my head so I can see his face. It's still unbelievable that he's here. "Yeah," I say, and smile. "I can."

A few hours later I reluctantly follow him to the front door. It's been a blissful afternoon spent with him. My whole life has changed in eight hours. We laid in bed until we couldn't stand the hunger anymore, so I got up and made us sandwiches and we watched a movie and made out like teenagers on the couch.

Around 7 o’clock, he sighed and said he ought to be heading home. He had a few things to take care of before Nate's Bachelor party and the Shut-In. "I hate to leave, but I haven't started packing for the trip, either."

He turns when he reaches the door and opens his arms. I step into them and let him pull me close, then wrap my arms around him and squeeze. I don't want him to go.

"I know you have stuff to do."

"Yeah." His hands rub my back, up and down. Wide, large, strong hands. I love the feeling. "So I'm... thinking... "

I pull back so I can see him and grab his hands and hold onto them. "What?"