A Veil of Glass and Rain (18 page)

my lungs. He's my breath.

This truth frightens me.

Eagan is indubitable about our relationship.

He believes we can face all kinds of obstacles.

Or perhaps, his desire for me is not that

strong.

I need distractions. I finish unpacking, then I

focus my attention to the pictures displayed on

Eagan's desk. One of them portrays the two of

us with his grandparents, Peter and Beth;

they're beaming, while Eagan and I are

laughing. It's a laughter that involves our

entire bodies. It seems to originate from deep

down our hearts. It's beautiful.

Then I notice another picture. It depicts me,

Eagan, my childhood friend Mina, with her

curly red hair and pale blue eyes, Felia and her

older brothers, Neal and David; the three of

them have hair the color of chestnuts and

brown eyes.

I avert my gaze. David's death, Eagan's grief,

my guilt and cowardice; I feel like I'm

suffocating.

I shuffle through my new home on achy feet.

I'm welcomed by night shadows, so I switch on

a few lamps along the way to our bedroom.

After my eyes adjust to the semi-darkness, I

find Eagan already in bed and asleep. He's

sprawled onto his stomach, his face buried in

the crook of his folded arm.

I quietly undress and toss my clothes to the

floor. Then I pad into the bathroom. As soon as

the door is closed behind me, I grope along the

wall on my left, searching for the light switch.

I take a long and steamy shower and let the

water soothes my tired limbs; tonight the

bookstore was crowded and busy. I feel

drained.

I dry off briskly with one of Eagan's soft

yellow towels, then I drop it carelessly to the

bathroom floor.

I switch off the light and I patter back into

the semi-darkness of our bedroom. I silently

rummage into Eagan's wardrobe and dig out

one of his T-shirts. In the process, I knock

against the guitar case, which is well hidden in

the back of the closet. Apparently, I haven't

driven away all my demons yet.

Wearing only Eagan's T-shirt, I shamble into

the kitchen.

Nausea grips my stomach the moment my

eyes settle on the fridge. I brace my back

against the counter and I slide onto the floor,

then I wrap my arms around my bended legs.

The floor is cold beneath my bare feet. The

chill crawls up my skin and invades my body.

I stare up at the white fridge. It grows and

turns into a menacing entity in front of my

wide and scared eyes, while its low buzzing

sound increases and becomes a loud roar.

“Brina.”

Eagan's deep voice drags me out of my

twisted imagery.

He sits in front of me and rests his back

against the fridge; Eagan's presence makes it

seem positively less threatening. His strong

legs, positioned on either side of me, creates a

safe cradle.

Looking all tousled and sleepy, Eagan gives

me his easy smile.

“I missed you today,” I admit.

“I missed you too,” he replies.

“Really?” I detest how surprised my voice

sounds.

Eagan flinches. “Of course.”

For a brief moment he seems hurt, but then

he shakes his head and his eyes fill with

longing, so much so that my heart stutters in

response.

Eagan leans toward me and trails open-

mouthed kisses along my bare knees, even as

he smooths his hands over my calves and up

my legs.

I bend toward him to bury my face in his

soft hair.

“At work, all I can talk about is you,” he

murmurs. “Sara can't stand me anymore,” he

adds.

“It's me she doesn't approve of,” I tell him.

Eagan nibbles at my skin. “It's my fault. I

used her to make you jealous. It was unfair.

She's a good person,” he confesses.

I mouth the delicate shell of his ear, then I

whisper, “It worked, you know. I was so

jealous I wounded you.”

Eagan's hands let go of my legs and steal

underneath my T-shirt. He grasps my waist,

pulls me to him and straddles me over his hips.

Our gazes collide. I link my arms around his

strong neck and I fasten my mouth on his. At

first, he lets me control the kiss, but soon he

shoves his tongue between my lips to taste and

to devour me.

When I feel his erection stir against my

groin, I moan.

Eagan breaks our kiss, and I wail in protest.

He chuckles and rests his forehead against

mine. Our jerky breaths mingle.

“I want to touch you,” I hiss urgently.

Eagan gives me a short nod. Then he rolls

his hips upward, coaxing a whimper from me,

and yanks the waistband of his sweatpants

down.

The moment his shaft springs free, I wrap

my fingers around it. Eagan's ragged gasp gusts

along my cheekbone, as we both stare down at

my hands. The tips of my dark hair tease my

fingers and his sensitive skin.

“Velvet over steel,” I murmur, while I

stroke him gently.

“Fuck,” he rasps.

I continue to caress his penis with my right

hand, brushing my thumb over the sensitive

head and smearing the first drops of semen.

With my left hand I cup his testicles. As soon

as I begin to fondle them, Eagan groans and his

hips begin to rock. My own hips sway in

response.

Then his fingers abandon my waist to

capture my wrists.

I cease my caresses.

“Inside you. Now,” he utters huskily.

I nod and slowly let him go, so that I can

brace my hands on his naked shoulders, as his

hands grip my waist once again, and lower me

onto his erection.

He breaches my entrance slowly and

painfully. My mewling sounds echo throughout

the kitchen.

Eagan feathers kisses along my cheeks and

lips, and swirls his thumb over my clitoris,

until I shudder with pleasure. My release

allows him to wedge his swollen penis deep

inside my core.

“My friend. My love. My breath.” He

punctuates each word with kisses.

Tears fall along my cheeks, for his

declaration twists my tender heart. I hide my

face and my sobs in the crook of his neck.

Eagan holds me close against his frame; the

heat of his strong body seeps into me even

through the cotton of the T-shirt.

We stay still for an infinite moment.

“Make love to me,” I demand, as my inner

muscles flutter and his shaft twitches in

reaction.

“Life must be savored, not rushed.

Remember?” He mumbles against my hair. “Let

me savor your soft warmth.”

A sudden hunger grips my heart. It is

irrational. It is strong. I need him to lose

himself in me. I need him to crave me as much

as I crave him.

I place my hands on his shoulders and lift

myself upward. Then I begin to ride him

frantically.

Eagan growls my name, fists the back of my

T-shirt, and pushes into me from below; his

shoves are vigorous, fierce, unrestrained.

Finally, the trembling of my body incites

Eagan's intense orgasm.

I fuse my lips to his and claim his shout of

relief along with his breath.

My breath.

17.

My dark mood from the last few days seems to

have bled right into Eagan.

The bright light coming from the window

speaks of a mid-morning hour, therefore

Eagan's presence in our bedroom surprises me,

as I blink away sleep. He should be at work.

“Yeah. Thanks for covering for me, man. I

really need this day off. I worked all night.

Yes, my pet project and Sara's project. Tell

her not to worry.”

As he talks on the phone, he paces and

drags his hand through his hair and over his

neck. His movements are nervous.

“Sure. I'll talk to you later. Bye, Enrico.”

He thumbs his phone off and tosses it onto

the desk, which overflows with drawings and

blueprints.

I sit up on the bed and beam. “You're

staying home today. I'm so glad. Come back to

bed.”

I peel off the T-shirt I've slept in, I drop it to

the floor, then I wait for him to accept my

invitation.

Eagan pierces me with a hard and

unexpected stare, as if resenting my presence

in his space. Then he stalks out of the room.

As I'm about to follow him, he storms back

in and hovers by the side of the bed. His face

is a shattered and intense mask.

I fist my hands in the dark-purple sheets and

brace myself. “What is it?”

“You want me to lose control, right? You

like it when I do. You come every time. Hard.

Well, today I'm losing it. Lie onto your

stomach,” he barks.

I hesitate, not because I'm scared, but

because Eagan's harsh tone rouses a sharp and

surprising longing in my chest. My nipples

pucker and heat pools between my legs.

Eagan's eyes settle on my breasts and

darken. His erection strains against the cotton

of his pants. He grabs the waistband and yanks

them off; his gaze never leaves my body.

“Now,” he orders.

I gasp and roll onto my belly. Immediately,

Eagan's weight blankets me. He nudges my legs

apart with his knee and drives into me in one

thrust.

I'm not ready for him, therefore his

penetration hurts, but I press my face into the

pillow to smother my cry, for I don't want him

to stop.

Eagan slides his arms between my body and

the mattress; his left hand palms my breast,

while his right hand cups my mound. He

withdraws his penis almost completely form

my core, then he shoves it back inside me. He

repeats the action again and again, as he

groans against my hair

I claw at the pillow, I push back against

him, then I grind my pelvis down onto his

hand.

Pain turns into pleasure.

At length, his shaft throbs inside me. Before

leaving my body, Eagan brushes my hair away

from my neck and kisses my nape softly. I

shiver and sob. Eagan licks my heated skin but,

all too soon, he moves away from me.

I keep my face buried against the pillow; it

smells of comfort and safety.

“Every year, on this day, I forget about rules

and I just let myself go.” His voice seems to

come from far away.

“What's special about today?” I demand.

“It's the anniversary of David's death.”

Acute pain knifes my heart. I turn my gaze

to him. Eagan is reclining onto his stomach. His

face is hidden between his folded arms.

“Eagan?”

He doesn't answer. He doesn't budge.

My limbs still shaking and his cum seeping

down the inside of my thigh, I shift near him,

then I cover his body with mine. His muscles

roll and ripple beneath me; icy fingers run

under his skin. I recognize the agonizing

sensation, and I intend to chase it away from

him.

I whisper kisses across his neck, even as I

glide my hands over the expanse his shoulders.

“Talk to me, Eagan.”

He heaves a hurtful sob.

My caresses and kisses become more urgent.

“Please, Eagan.”

“I was in the car with David when we had

the accident. He was driving.”

An unbearable pain knots my insides, but I

remain silent and I keep soothing him with my

touch and my lips.

Eagan continues, “We were in Provence. We

were speeding down a dirt road. There was no

one. The road was ours. We were laughing like

idiots. I don't remember what we were talking

about. Then, out of nowhere, a cow appeared

in front of us. David swerved. He lost control

of the car. It crashed against a tree.” Eagan

utters a mirthless laugh. “Such a stupid way to

die.”

As Eagan concludes his terrible tale, I notice

that the skin I'm kissing is wet and that Eagan

is trembling; then I recognize that the

moisture is caused by my tears and that I'm the

one shaking.

I move away from him and I sit up.

Eagan yanks his head up and stares at me.

“Brina?”

His eyes are filled with tears, just like mine.

“It could have been you. You could have