The Waltz (9 page)

“Anything I can do to help?” I piped behind him.

“No, just sit there at the bar. I poured you a glass of wine.” I took a seat at his bar and sipped the wine. It was amazing.

“Okay, straight up,” I said snapping my fingers, “if you can’t be this amazing in a year, don’t you dare do it now.” I saw his cheeks puff, his back still turned to me as he stirred the pot of noodles. He set the spoon down and walked over to the bar.

“Well, I can be a real prick too, but I figured I’d start you out easy.” He snatched my wine glass out of my hand as I protested with a quick, “Heeeeyyyy.” He drank a big gulp, leaving me with a sip left and I crossed my arms. “I’ll shut up now.”

He pulled the bottle out of a cabinet, pouring me more and turned to his dinner task at hand.

“So I love your house. When did you get it?”

“Thanks,” he answered, draining the pasta. “I moved in about three years ago.”

“And you decorated this place yourself?”
Okay, what the hell with the loaded question, Vi? Easy.

“No, I had help,” he said, shooting a careful glance my way.

“And that’s my prying quota for the day,” I said, taking a nice gulp of wine.

“I highly doubt that, Violet,” he said with a grin, mixing the pasta and gesturing for me to sit at his kitchen table.

He joined me a few minutes later with two full plates of steaming goodness paired with fresh garlic bread. I dug in, absolutely starving from the smells that had tortured me while he was cooking. I took heaping forkfuls into my mouth in clear appreciation of his amazing cooking skills. I moaned, closing my eyes after a few bites. Catching his eyes on me, I turned my head and gave him my best smile, twisting my fork in the air with flair.

“I’m not sure I like that moan, woman.”

“And why the hell not?” I asked, offended. “It’s a compliment to your cooking”

“And it’s an insult to my cock. I’m not so sure you moan as well when you compliment it.”

“Well, anytime you want to make me moan in your kitchen with your cock, let me know. I’m game. And this food is delicious. Thank you.”

“I love that you eat like you mean it,” he stated, taking a mouthful of noodles.

“Not that I need to.”
Shit, self-depreciating slip, Vi. Not attractive. Then again, give yourself a break. It's been a while since you’ve dated. You are dating!
I went in for a smooth recovery, “But I do love my food and I mean that.”

“I love the way your body looks. I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.”

I snapped to and saw that he meant it, falling a little for him right then. I stifled the emotion I was sure was showing in my face. It had been so long since I felt this type of affection, since I was this full, this appreciated, this … happy. I wanted it to last.

When we finished our dinner, I insisted on cleaning the dishes and he made his way to the couch to watch football. When he saw me enter the living room, he pulled a small pillow from the side of the couch and placed it between his chest and his arm. If he could see my insides, he would see them falling to my feet.

Who the hell are you, Rhys?

I had every intention of finding out.

Twenty extremely boring minutes of football later, I spoke up, perfectly relaxed with my feet snuggled with his on the coffee table he had violated me on hours earlier. It was hard to believe this was the same man.

“How old are you, Rhys?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Where are you from?”

“Here, born and raised.” He lifted a piece of hair covering my eyes so he could glance down and catch mine. “You?”

“Thirty-two. Thirty-three on Halloween and born and raised here too.” I snuggled further into him, he seemed to like the affection or faked it well.

“So before you owned the bar, what did you do?”

“What I still do. I work a boring ass nine to five installing computer updates for the company I work for.”

“You have a nine to five?” I sat up, completely thrown.

“The bar is great income and I could live off of that, but being there day in day out, not so appealing.”

“I get it.” I laid back down in his arms, resting my chin on his chest. “But you still love it, right?”

He leaned down and whispered, “If you’re asking if I’ll ever get tired of fucking your pretty pink pussy in a variety of light and dark ways, I’m almost positive the answer is no.”

I smiled and buried my head in his chest. He cupped my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “Never, ever be afraid to tell me what you want.”

I was so close to bursting, I simply nodded and put my head back on his chest, making sure he didn’t see the lone happy tear that fell down my cheek. I woke some time later to the weightless feeling of being carried and looked up to see Rhys cradling my body as he moved us easily up the stairs. He looked down at me with an intensity that had my already rapid heartbeat kick into overdrive. Standing at the edge of his bed, words failed us both as our eyes locked.

He kissed me and my clothes seemed to fall away naturally, as if they didn’t belong between us. Naked and laid out for him, he took his time stretching his lips and tongue over every single inch of my skin. I felt worshiped and beautiful, and when he brought his mouth back to mine, I kissed him with my whole being.

“Violet,” he said as he held my face in his hands, tracing my jaw with his kiss. I basked in his tender touch, wrapping my limbs around him, unable to get close enough. He slid inside me gently, the friction of his cock mixed with the emotion in my chest led me to orgasm in minutes. His strokes took me to a blissful state, murmuring as I kissed his chest and arms. He made love to me for hours as we took turns swallowing each other’s moans, exploring each other’s bodies until we were too weak to move. He held me to his chest tightly as we drifted off into a deep sleep.

The next morning I woke up to his kiss, smiling as he trailed it to my nipple. I covered my mouth, pushing his head away and sprang up from the bed.

“Violet, what the hell? I had a perfectly good erection.”

“Toothbrush?” I questioned, scared to say more.

“I think there’s an extra one in my medicine cabinet.”

He shook his head and smiled, falling into bed, his black hair a total disheveled mess and his morning stubble sexy as hell. I knew what I looked like and was terrified. I scurried into the bathroom and checked my appearance. Past the age of thirty, I had never looked well in the morning. I always had pillow face and Tina Turner hair. Today was so … different. My hair, by the grace of God, while a little tousled, still looked pretty good. My skin was glowing, face slightly puffy, but not too shabby. I grabbed the spare toothbrush and went to work, remedying my morning breath. After using the restroom, I opened the door in a "tada" fashion, naked as a jaybird.

He chuckled and patted the bed next to him. I looked at the clock.

“It’s eight a.m. on Monday morning, don’t you have a job to go to?” I asked.

“Get over here,” he growled. I walked excruciatingly slow and giggled when he snatched me by the waist, throwing me onto the bed.

“Woman, service me!” He kneeled in front of me, turned his head to the side as he placed his hands on his hips, proudly displaying his glorious morning wood.

“Okay, I’ll earn my keep, but you better be thinking about this at work today.” I swallowed him whole and minutes later he pounded me into thinking of him for the rest of my life.

Pulling into my drive, I noticed Alex’s car there. I walked in, expecting him to be dressing for work, but he was in our bed and sick as hell. I rolled my eyes at his pleas to talk to me. Showering and dressing quickly to prepare myself for a few listings to show, I granted him a small amount of mercy by leaving some cough tablets and hot soup by the bed. The only thing worse than being sick was being treated like shit when you were sick. Besides, I was feeling generous today. I’d just started something amazing with a man who treated me well and worshiped my body.

Deciding today probably wasn’t the best day to ask Alex for a divorce, I set out to sell houses. I was on top of the world and had nothing but huge smiles for complete strangers. I looked like a lunatic, but a happy one. When I got home later that night, I found Alex face down on the floor, burning with fever. I rushed him to the ER and stayed with him as they got his fever under control. I looked at my phone hours later and saw I had two missed texts from Rhys.

Rhys: It’s 5 o’clock and all I can think about is your Jedi jaw movements this morning. Please come now for a repeat performance, my cock will thank you.

Rhys: Maybe it wasn’t as good for you as it was for me?

I looked at the clock, it was one a.m. Shit. Somehow Alex had found a way to taint the only good thing that had happened to me. I texted him back.

Violet: So sorry. Crazy shit. I’ll explain later. And yes it was incredible. I will take your cock up on that offer.

I got no response and tucked my phone back into my purse.

“I love you, Violet.” I looked to see Alex studying me from the hospital bed. He looked pitiful and I almost felt sorry for him.

“Yeah, love you too, honey.” I rolled my eyes away from him and sat up in my chair.

“Where is your wedding ring?” he asked, his studying my empty finger.

“Wow, a sick and desperate man,” I said, shaking my head.

The doctor came in and discharged Alex with a long list of prescriptions. Alex had the plague, as far as he was concerned, and begged me to stay with him. I spent the next day at home nursing his health. The sooner he got better, the sooner I could ask for a divorce.

Rhys had extended his invitation again and I had turned him down again. I hated when I had to text my reply. On day three, his text came and my heart sank.

Rhys: You aren’t running away are you? You can talk to me.

Violet: No, God, please don’t think that, Rhys. I promise I will explain. I wish I was with you.

I got no response. It took Alex five days to get up and moving, and I could feel Rhys slipping away. I shouldn’t have lied to him. And I sure as hell shouldn’t be ruining my chances with him to nurse Alex back to health. I went to check on Alex after waking on the couch and found him missing. I looked at the bedside clock, 10:59 p.m.

I stood against the side of his office door, the way I always did when I eavesdropped. Listening to his conversation, I assumed it was Sandra he was speaking to. I had met her twice at office parties and other occasions for the firm. Alex was the head of commercial accounts in his advertising firm and had recently received an award for his work on a shoe campaign. He hadn’t bothered inviting me to the ceremony, stating it was an afternoon ceremony and he didn’t want me to have to miss work. I found out later through our credit card statement the bastard had booked a suite that day. I listened to him speak to her the way he used to talk to me.

“You are so perfect. I don’t want to hide it anymore. I love you, Kris.”

I choked on a sob. I didn’t care how much I hated him, how much I was ready for my marriage to be over, it fucking hurt to hear him profess his love to another woman. Especially when I had been the woman who had been nursing him back to health. Clutching my chest, I turned my body, my forehead to the wall as my tears of rage fell silently. I wouldn’t wait for Christmas. I wouldn’t wait for tomorrow. As soon as he was done with his conversation, we would have ours.

“I want to fuck you so bad. I need you right now.” Alex’s voice sounded desperate, needy.

I felt a hand clamp over my mouth and started to scream out when I heard his voice.

“It’s me. Don’t scream.”

I tried to turn to face him, tears still damp on my face. Rhys was here, in my house, and my husband was on the other side of the door. What the hell was he doing here? He held my back to his chest as I stood still facing the wall, completely wide-eyed and terrified we would be discovered at any moment. He stroked the wetness of my face, his voice coming out in a whisper.