A Thin Line (19 page)

"I'm thinking that two sets of hands pack faster than one."

Confused, my head naturally tilts to the left. "Huh?"

"Come with me. Grab your stuff, pack a few more things and come home with me. We have to be at the hotel tomorrow anyway to start decorating."

"I–"

"You're already packed, aren't you? I know you. You've probably been packed for a month already."

Of course, he’s right. If I needed to walk out the door and fly to St Lucia right now, I could. But...

"Whatever protests you're coming up with right now, put them away. Come with me, tonight."

I step back, instantly overwhelmed. "It's that this is all happening so fast. My head is spinning... I think maybe I need some time–"

"You’ve had eighteen years. That's more than enough time."

I'm honestly shocked at how quickly he went right back there. I open my mouth to argue, but he's already wincing at his own words and squeezes my hands, lost in his.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid. Okay, I'll give you time. Have you seen the bathroom in my house? The tub is like a miniature swimming pool.  I'll run you a big ass rose smelling bubble bath and you can sit in the tub and have all the time in the world to yourself."

It's crazy, but I'm tempted. Steal away to Preston's house and try to let the past eight hours sink in? What could be so bad about that? It's not something I'd normally do. Which makes me want to do it.

I can't fight those pleading eyes. "Okay, I'll go. But I need to check my bags and change. And I need to drive my car, so you may as well go ahead of me."

He shakes his head. "Nice try. We can take separate cars but if your car isn't leaving this lot right behind mine, I'm not leaving." He turns me around and pushes me toward my bedroom. "Go check your bags. Do what you have to do. Take your time, don't forget anything. Let me know when you're ready."

While I'm in the bedroom, he settles into the couch again, grabs the remote and starts flipping channels.  I open my bags and check that I have everything I need, since I won't be home until after the trip. While I'm repacking, I steal glances at him in the living room, his legs stretched out in front of him, feet propped on the coffee table.

I expected that a change in our relationship would make him less aggressive, but he isn't. He's just aggressive in a different way. And I
like
it.

Once I've checked and double checked my bags and changed my clothes, I wheel my suitcases out to the living room and grab my purse from the coffee table. Preston turns the TV off and stands.

"Got everything? Passport? ID? Phone charger? That last one's important because I'll forget mine."

I dig through my purse to check yet again. My ID is securely tucked away, along with my bank card and credit cards. My passport is there as well. I mentally run down my checklist again, making sure I have all of the clothes, shoes and accessories I need. Satisfied, I nod at Preston.

"Let's go, then." He grabs the handle of each suitcase and rolls them toward the door. I wait for him to step out and follow, locking the door behind me. Preston lifts each bag as if it weighs nothing at all and carts them down the steps. Once he reaches the landing, he stops next to his car, pulls out his key and presses a button.

The trunk pops open and he drops my suitcases into the yawning dark space.

"Why are you putting those in your car?"

He reaches for me, pulling me close until I am near enough to kiss. "I'm holding them hostage," he says, then laughs and heads around to the driver's seat. "I have to stay one step ahead of you. If you don't end up at my house, you don't get your stuff back."

He pops the latch on the door of his Benz and ducks inside. The engine roars to life and the headlights come on. The passenger side window slides down and Preston leans over the console.  "Look, I know you want to maintain some kind of control here, but you don't have to take your car. We're going to all the same places this weekend. You could just be crazy, throw caution to the wind and, I don't know, trust me. I'll take care of you."

After a brief moment of hesitation, I open the passenger side door and slide in, sinking back against the genuine leather seats. Seeming pleased with himself, Preston raises the window on my side and puts the car in drive, pushing it forward out of the spot he backed into earlier.

"It's not about trust, you know. It's not about control either."

"It's not?" I see him glance at me briefly before his eyes return to the road. "Then what's it about?"

"It's about everything appearing to be normal."

"What do you mean normal?"

"I mean I don't want anyone to know about…us. Not yet. And if we start showing up to things together, in the same car, looking like we're together..."

"People are smart. They will figure it out."

"I don't want to help them figure it out. I want everything, from the outside, to look like it normally looks for us."

"I don't get it. Don’t you think our friends will be happy for us?"

"Yeah, that's the problem." I mutter. "They'll gloat. And there will be so many I-told-you-so's. Do you know how many times I told Morgan that this wedding planning thing wouldn't work?"

"About as often as I told Nate. But it did work. So?"

"So, I don't...." I sigh. I don't think I can explain it to him so he'll understand.

"You don't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they were right?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"So you'd rather settle for looking like the last person to see what's completely obvious."

I turn my head to stare at the side of his face. "Like I was the only one ignoring things?"

He doesn’t respond. I’m right and he knows it. I didn't act alone this whole time. We fed off of each other.

"Besides," I add, "Everyone will be so excited about us that it'll take away from the wedding. We didn't spend all this time and money and hard work for no one to notice it. I don't want to upstage them."

He nods, finally. Regretfully, I can tell. "I guess. But we have to find a way to be together. I have no problem with laying low for a while, but I'm over being without you. I hope you feel the same."

I reach across the console and rub his thigh. His hand leaves the gearshift and covers mine, his fingers intertwining with and squeezing mine. "I do. I'm not going anywhere, Preston."

He lifts the jumble of fingers to his lips and drops a light kiss to the back of my hand. "I want to enjoy having you back. I sound possessive, I know, and I don't mean to. I have so much time to make up for. I don't want to waste a single second."

My heart warms at the sound of that, that he intends to make up for the time we've lost. I have some making up to do myself.

"When do I get my big ass rose scented bubble bath you promised?"

The head of Preston's California King is a perfect spot to survey the entire room. He's lived in this house for five years and I've never been in his bedroom before. At first I refused to come, not wanting to stare at the spot where we'd shared so many intimate moments. Morgan dragged me here one day and over time, I got used to ignoring the other side of the lake.

The townhouse has two bedrooms but Preston's room is the master suite. A set of double doors open to reveal a fireplace on one wall and the biggest four poster walnut bed I've ever seen on another.  Two sliding doors lead to a balcony that overlooks the patio and fire pit. The room is decorated in black and grey with splashes of color, from the comforter to the art on the walls to the sheer drapes that cover the patio doors. It's classy without being overbearingly masculine. I find myself thinking that I could stand to live there with minimal changes.

"When we're done packing. Are you folding or complaining?"

He points toward the leaning tower of T-shirts stacked next to me. Spread open across the bed is a suitcase that looks like it could hold his entire wardrobe. "How many shirts do you have there?"

I count them quickly and tell him, "Nine. But we’re only going for seven days."

"I like options. What if it rains? I might need something long sleeved."

"So switch out a couple long sleeved with a couple of t-shirts."

"Did you not hear me? I like options."

He places a few long-sleeved shirts into the suitcase and motions for me to put the stack of t-shirts in beside them. Next, he drops in two pairs of jeans that look exactly the same and a pile of shoes, including a few pairs of stark white sneakers.

"Do you think I need anything formal except for my tux?"

"I brought a couple of nice dresses. Not formal but dressy. To wear to dinner and stuff."

"Okay." He digs through his closet and pulls out a few button down shirts, all fresh from the dry cleaners and color coordinated. "Ties?"

I shake my head. "No ties."

"Great." He folds the shirts and lays them into the suitcase, then begins to layer the rest of the things he's packed and staged across the bed-swim trunks, underwear, socks. "I need to pack my bathroom stuff and a couple of things in a bag for tomorrow night. Let's run your bath now."

Ten minutes later I am submerged in a steamy bubble bath. He wasn't kidding, the tub is huge. And deep. I feel like I have to sit up straight to keep from drowning.

“So why do you have bubble bath that smells like flowers? Are you big into smelling like a rose?"

He steps into the bathroom with a smirk. "Do you really want to know the answer to that? Or do you just want to enjoy the proceeds?"

I grin. "Never mind."

"You sure? I can tell you. See, there was this girl that–"

"Oh my Gahhh..." I relax a little and let my head sink below the water line. Seconds later I sit up straight again and laugh, pushing hair and bubbles out of my eyes. He's moved to one of the steps that lead up the side of the tub. 

And he's smiling. "So you don't want to know, then?"

"No. I'll just enjoy the proceeds. This is going to take some getting used to."

"I know. For me too."

"This is an awfully big tub."

His eyes roll from one end of the tub to the other, landing on me, all wrapped up in foamy bubbles. "It is. I have stories about that, too. This one time...."

"Preston Reid!"

"What? I'm just telling this story about this girl I dated, and how she–" He doesn't finish his sentence because I've cupped my hands and sent a wave of water towards him. He sputters then keels backward and lands on his ass.

Then laughs.  "See. Now you’ve done it."

He stands, then begins peeling off his soaking wet clothes and leaves them on the floor where he dropped them. I’m about to apologize for getting him wet, when he takes a flying leap into the tub, flooding the bathroom floor and disturbing my sense of balance. I go under again, but I'm pulled up against Preston's chest and perched on his lap.

I don't try very hard to resist being held there. "You promised me time."

"And then you got me wet, so I guess you get to share your bath."

"Again, if this is my punishment..."

"Not a punishment. Natural consequences."

I wiggle against him, teasing. He growls in my ear and his hips arch upward, pressing himself into me. He's already pulsing and my gyrations aren't doing much to help.

"Speaking of natural consequences."

An appreciative groan rumbles through his chest. His hands climb my body and settle for cupping my breasts, his thumbs flicking my hard nipples, sending bolts of lightning through me so strong they curl my toes. His lips sweep across my shoulder in broad strokes, nipping here and there with a gentle bite as he works his way up the side of my neck.

I'm lightheaded, from the heat or from him. Either way, I'm in heaven and I never want to vacate.

My head lolls back against his shoulder, exposing more of my neck for him. "Mmmmmm..." I moan as his lips travel up my neck to my ear.  My voice bouncing off of the tiles amuses me, so I make more noise.

"I missed you," he whispers. "I didn’t know how much until you were with me again."

"I missed you too," I mumble, lost in the steam and the hypnotic way he caresses and massages me, gentle little circles everywhere, all over.

"Did you really? Or are you just saying that?"

My burst of laughter echoes up into the ceiling. "Not the whole time. But that week when you weren't talking to me and it
bugged
me that you weren't talking to me.... Yeah."

"I had some thinking to do. I didn't want you interfere with my thoughts. Like, influence me. You know?"

"That's what I figured."

"I had to plan out what I wanted to say. And when. And try to decide if you would be receptive or laugh at me or throw something at me."

"Throw something?" I repeat, while laughing.  "What did you think I'd do?"

"Uhm, I was sure you would laugh at me. You did."

"I wasn't laughing
at
you. I didn't… know what to say. After our fight in the park, I thought we wouldn't speak again."

"I had to catch you off guard. And I had to come to you in a way that I hadn't before, so you'd know I was serious. And I had to stop being a dick."

"For just a minute."

I feel him smiling as he rests his head against mine. "I wanted you back and it wasn't going to happen with me acting like that. I had to get my shit together."

"Mmmhmmm."

I sit up and then swivel around so I'm straddling him and move up, all the way up until I feel him trapped between our warm bodies. The bubbles have begun to melt away, leaving a slick feel to the water and giving me an unobstructed view of what he looks like with my belly pressed up against him. I begin to rub his chest, playing in the layer of hair there.

"So, your shit is together, then?"

His eyes are half closed and his mouth is half open. Beads of moisture sprout across his forehead and seep into the soft curl of his hair. I feel his arms move around me, and then each hand cups a cheek of my ass. His tongue snakes out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip, which he then tucks between his teeth.

“You tell me," he says, squeezing the generous portions in his hands.

He lifts me up a few inches and guides himself to me, then gently directs me to sit. My head rocks back and I groan loudly as he fills me.  I fight to keep my eyes open and locked on his as I lift and lower, then speed up as my body adjusts to him. In a few strokes I am completely full, sinking deep onto him, rising until I am just short of pulling off, then grinding down on him again. I contract around him, milking him while I ride him. He holds onto me for dear life, pushing and pulling, controlling my rhythm.

His eyelids have drooped until he can no longer keep them open. Sounds and phrases fall out of his mouth at whim. "
Unh
... fuck, Angie. Don't stop. "

I whimper into his shoulder as he grunts and moans. 

"Shit...." His breath comes in hisses as he is wracked with a series of convulsions but doesn't loosen his iron grasp on my hips. His eyes pop open and his gaze locks on mine. He is intense, almost fiercely staring at me.

His breathing speeds up until he's huffing quick puffs of air. His hips lift and rock against mine, wet skin loudly slapping skin, water splashing over the edge of the tub. The sound of which, when coupled with our cries at the top of our lungs, creates a moment of pure chaos in Preston's bathroom.  An overbearing pressure builds in the pit of my belly– an impending pleasure that is impossible to keep at bay.

When it finally washes over me, my entire body stiffens and tips backwards. If Preston hadn't been paying attention and wrapped an arm around me to catch me, I'd have been a goner, because I could barely breathe, let alone think about trying not to drown.

I'm still involuntarily convulsing when Preston pulls out and moves me around so I am sitting sideways on his lap. He wraps both arms around me and cradles my head against his chest. I listen to his heaving breaths and galloping heartbeat until both slow to a regular pace.

For a long span of time, we sit and let everything settle.  I tip my head up so our lips meet.

"Kiss me."

I'm expecting a light, sweet kiss, but his lips linger and his mouth opens and the kiss deepens into something so slow and romantic, heady and erotic... I'm not sure I'll ever recover.

I’m ready to acknowledge the shift between us. A return to the past to bring everything forward. From here, we craft our future.

Our future
? I'm surprised I can even think of those words in relation to him. Never in an infinite number of years did I picture myself here... but now that I am, I can't imagine myself anywhere else.

When our lips finally part, I pull back and give him a smile. "So, I think the verdict is in."

An eyebrow lifts. "Do I want to hear this?"

I nod. "Mmmhmm. I do think you’ve got your shit together."