Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) (26 page)

My body tenses up.

“No baby, don’t do that.” Sean whispers behind me with a low, sexy growl close to my ear while plucking again at my nipple.

I sigh in response.

He gently turns me over and by the high moonlight I can see his eyes, a vibrant green that comes off as surprising and always a little disarming against his rich caramel skin. They search mine for a moment. There is a second of a question, a bit of hesitation. I just stare at him. I know my eyes give away nothing. I’m used to masking my emotions now. Besides they are not the same eyes of the young woman he married. She’s not here. He took her away. My eyes tonight don’t say stop and they don’t say go, so Sean slowly closes his and brands me with a kiss, taking my breath away in its fierceness.
 

When I tense up he eases the pressure, using his tongue to coax my lips apart then he caresses my tongue with his and some spark of memory sends a signal wave of pleasure rolling to my center. His kiss travels down my body, taking time on all the right stops. Those perfect sensual points that he knows oh so well. Lingering on my collarbone, running his tongue ever so slowly back and forth while his large hands start a dangerous trail, beginning at my breasts then heading south.

He grazes at my nipples, lightly fluttering over them almost as if his hand is not even there. I arch my breast toward him, forcing him to fill his hands.
 

Damn my body for giving in.

Sean lowers his head, flicking his tongue over one nipple then the other, taking one full into his mouth drawing, pulling, teasing, and causing waves of desire to flow over me.
 

I can’t help it. I reach between our bodies for him. I need to feel his fullness. Anything to remind me of who we were. Of how we used to be, when we were connected.
 

I pull to guide him towards my center. He pulls back.

“No baby, not yet. You’ll send me over the edge and I want to take you there first.”

My legs are eased open and I don’t protest. I want this. I know I do.
Don’t think. Just feel.
The problem is I do feel and what I’m feeling at the moment are Sean’s eyes on me as my legs are spread. Instantly I’m self conscious.
 

Stop. Don’t think.
 

Relax and enjoy this. But, no. I’m wishing the moon weren’t so high and the bedroom weren’t so bright. My tan skin against his. Exposed. I wish the curtains were heavier and my thighs a bit thinner.

“Stop thinking, Bree. You’re beautiful. God, I want you so much.”

Sean kisses the inside of my thigh and I shiver.
 

He takes his time kissing me in the most intimate spot as if I’m his new bride and not his wife of over ten years. I bite my bottom lip so I don’t cry out and wake the kids. When his tongue first darts out and flicks across my hard center, I writhe in pleasure despite myself. And his strong hands hold me in place as my back arches once again and I fight to catch my breath. He eases, taking longer, slower strokes and then picking up speed only to back off again just as I get right to that edge.

I groan and reach for Sean, pulling his head in closer giving him no escape. Once again I can feel his smile. This time between my legs. Damn him for playing me.

He darts his tongue out and starts to tease. Working quickly now, every once in a while blowing lightly, driving me insane. Then he takes me in between his lips, suckles and all of a sudden I’m sent over the cliff. Crashing violently within myself.
 
Wave upon wave flows through me as I’m turned on my side and Sean lifts my leg, filling me with his thickness. Stroking me over and over. The waves feeling like they will never stop. I’m shattered.
 

Slammed against the shore.
 

Broken once again, but so differently from that night Sean changed me—changed us forever.

A year ago:

I finally put down the files I brought home from work and rub my forehead as I glance over at the clock on Sean’s side of the bed. 11:24 P.M. Okay now I am getting mad.
 
I know he has to put in long hours, but the kids and I would have loved to have had him here with us to share our gourmet take out dinner. Freakin’ TV chefs. Thirty minute meals my ass. Like I’ve got thirty minutes to spare when it’s already late, nothing is defrosted and I’ve got two hungry kids.
 
At least I made the drive through effort.

 
I dial Sean’s cell phone and again I’m put straight to voice mail. Frustrated I click the phone off without leaving another message but instead growl to myself. He should know better. After all these years, he knows how I worry. Thoughts sweep through my mind of him lying dead in an alley or stuck in his SUV, crashed on the side of the parkway. I know it’s silly thinking, but I’ve never been one to relax and my husband knows this. I make a vow to myself to give him hell when he gets home.
 

I’m watching Letterman do the Top 10 list when I hear Sean come in downstairs a bit later. Even with all my anger, relief washes over me with the fact that he’s home safe and sound.
 

My eyes shift from the TV to Sean as he walks into the bedroom. His suit jacket is thrown over his shoulder and his shirt collar is open. His clothes are a bit disheveled, but he still looks every bit the star athlete he always has been, the man I married years ago. Looking at him, my anger starts to dissolve.
 

But then I look a little harder and notice that his full lips are drawn into a tense line. Something’s not right. “Why didn’t you call?” I ask nervously.

“Sorry. I just got caught up.” He says this in an abrupt tone that pricks me the wrong way.

I’m about to ask, ‘caught up with what?’ when his cell rings. Sean pulls it out of his jacket pocket, glances down at the caller ID then turns off the phone with a frown before he throws it on the bed, landing by my thigh.

“Nice to see your phone is ringing now,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, my anger rising again. “I’ve been trying to call you all night. Why didn’t you answer?”
 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, too,” Sean says as he places his jacket across the delicate Louis XV style chair and sits down. His “sorry” sounds hollow to me. I raise an eyebrow about to speak, and then I stop. Sean never sits in that chair. He’s always hated that chair and was annoyed that I’d get such a girly spindly-legged thing. He said it was totally impractical for a six foot four basketball player’s home. So what’s he doing sitting there now? He rubs his forehead with his palm.

“What’s going on? I know something is wrong with you so don’t go getting all tight lipped on me. Is it serious? Has someone been hurt?” My eyes go to the cell phone lying by my leg on the bed. “What?” I ask, with a slight chuckle. Trying to lighten the mood and ease my nerves. “You having an affair or something?”

Sean jerks his head up from studying the floor with a look of surprise in his piercing green eyes. He rubs his hands across his face and looks at me again. His expression is so serious, so somber, that suddenly I’m hoping somebody has died. “Bree, I have to tell you something.”

My heart drops to my stomach.
There is no way I could have been right. Right?
 

“What is it?” My voice cracks as laughter from the TV fills the room. I pick up the remote control and press the mute button. Now is not the time for canned laughter.

“I, I need to come clean with you.” Sean’s voice is low, almost a whisper. I lean forward to hear him.

“What, Sean? Now you’re scaring me,” I say, my voice rising. I search his face to see if I can tell what he’s going to say. “Is it the job?”
Oh God, please let it be the job.
“If it’s the job,” I say, my voice getting higher, “don’t worry, you can always get another deal and we’ve got plenty of money. We’ll be fine. There is no reason to—”
 

Sean’s sigh stops me mid-sentence. “No Bree, it’s not the job. It’s me.”
 

The pause here is long and dramatic but I continue to babble, not really wanting him to go on. “What? Are you sick? You can’t be sick, Sean you just had a physical last week and the doctor said you were as healthy as a horse. Oh, no.” My hand goes to my throat. I’m trying to come up with anything that it can be as long as it’s not what I’m dreading. “It’s that prostate test you took. Either way we will deal with it. You’ll be fine baby. We’ll—”
 

“Bree, stop,” he says, cutting me off and looking at the phone. “I’m not sick and it’s not the job.” He lets out a long breath. “I, well, there was this woman. But it’s over. I swear it’s over.”

My heart stops. Like an old clock. I feel the second hand cease to move. Then I look down at the cell phone lying at my thigh like a smoking gun and know it’s true. Why would any man lie about that? But still it feels like a joke. A really sick joke. I breathe slow deep breaths. In and out.
 
Surprised I am doing this breathing thing so well. But I know I have to stay in control.
 

Then I sit up a bit straighter and look around the bedroom all done up in different shades of cream. Everything gleams. Nothing is out of place. The rug is vacuumed, there is no clutter and my work clothes are hanging neatly on the outside of the closet door, ready for the workday tomorrow. It’s so different from the jam packed room Jan and I shared growing up in the small Harlem apartment with Ma. I remember I always vowed that when I had the means I’d live a clutter free well-organized life. And I do. I’ve done well.

My gaze keeps going around the room and stops again on the cell phone. “That was her, right, on the phone?”
 

Sean nods his head as he looks down at the floor.

I tighten my already crossed arms as if I can protect my heart. “So what? You’ve decided to leave me?” For the first time my mind goes to the kids. How will I explain to Zach and Mackenzie that Daddy has a new wife? ‘Sweeties, Daddy won’t be living with us anymore, but on the upside you’ll now know what all the other kids from broken homes are raving about.’

I blink back the tears forming in my eyes. I can’t believe this; my life is changing right now, right in front of me. I feel like I should be taking notes and documenting it.
 

12:15: Woman’s world falls apart. Husband rips her heart out.
 

12:16: Woman eats ton of chocolate and ass immediately triples in size.
 

12:18: Woman throws all chocolate out of the house. She’s not having that dick cheat on her and triple the size of her ass.
 

“No, that’s not it. Of course I’m not leaving you,” Sean starts. His voice growing stronger and bringing my mind back to the room. “It’s nothing like that. It’s over with her. Well, it never really started. I just had to be honest with you. I wanted to be honest with you.” He waves his hands in time to punctuate every word.

A painful laugh escapes my lips. “Honest? Are you fucking kidding me? You must think I’m the biggest idiot in the world? That was her, calling you after midnight. Wanting you to get caught, so you thought you’d just beat her to the punch, right?”

“No, of course not.” He runs his hands over his face. “I mean, yeah, it was her, but it’s not like that. I ended it. Tonight. I know it should have never started. Look, I’m sorry. So sorry. I want to make things right with you.”
 

I blink harder now and close my eyes for a few moments. Make it right. He must be out of his mind. I know nothing can be right again. My thoughts fly out of my mouth. “Make it right? You have got to be crazy. You tell me you had an affair and in the next breath you want to make things right? You obviously don’t have a clue of what right is.”

The questions start to fly fast and furious. “Who is she? Where did you meet her?
 
When do you meet her?” Business meeting my ass, I realize, feeling like a fool. “How could you do this to me? To us?” I almost laugh at my own trite lines.

Sean answers my questions like a perp being interrogated who is now singing like a canary. “Her name is Dana Weathers. She works for the station; it doesn’t matter where we meet. Um, met.” Long pause here.
 

God damned bastard.
 

“I’m sorry, Bree. Really sorry.”
 

Dana Weathers.
 
I know her. So, I’m being cheated on with a TV bimbo with a made-up name. This is beneath me. The house phone rings and we both jump. It’s her. I know it and so does he. We both look at the phone. The silence between rings is deafening. Finally the machine picks up and I can tell Sean is holding his breath. Click. A hang up. We both breathe again.

 
Suddenly, I’m a character in my own life. I look up at Sean. His green eyes glisten, his caramel skin making them stand out in the dim light of the bedroom. There is now a ringing in my ears. My husband had an affair. My-husband-had-an-affair. The voice in my head doesn’t even sound like my own.
 

“Get out,” I say, with a calmness that surprises me.
 

“Bree, please.”

“Get the fuck out of here!” My voice rises and I quickly pull it in check, remembering the children sleeping just down the hall. “Leave now or I don’t know what I will do.” Scary, violent thoughts rage through my head and they all end with Sean bloodied and in pieces as I wonder just where the scissors are right now.