Zenith Rising (34 page)

“Rob said you tried to tell your mom.”

“She was probably the most relieved when I
left. She never did believe me.”

“Maybe she was just in denial. Maybe she
wasn’t relieved at all. Have you ever thought about contacting
her?”

“Never. No. I will never contact her again as
long as I live. I will never forgive her.”

“Okay,” she said gently, rubbing her hand
over his chest. “Okay, Spencer. You don’t have to ever contact
her.”

“Besides, who knows? Maybe somewhere out
there is a warrant for my arrest on charges of assault.”

“Somehow, I bet Barry never told a soul what
you did to him.”

“I shouldn’t have sworn at you. Or called you
a bitch.”

She lifted her head and smiled. “
A stupid,
fucking bitch.”

“Okay in full text, I’m sorry. I was taken
off guard.”

She shook her head. “I know. I expected it.
Your reaction. It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“Why would you risk provoking my reaction?
You’ve seen my temper. Why would you do that?”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “I’m not
afraid of you. Never physically. Mostly, not emotionally. You might
be rough sometimes, but you don’t usually mean it. You usually do
it when you don’t know what to do, or what to feel.”

Moving her mouth to his lips, she kissed him
again, placing her hands at his shoulders, and holding on. She was
on his lap, straddling him; and he could feel her moist warmth on
him. He grew hard under her and she shifted her crotch over him.
She kissed him harder, her tongue, wet and smooth in his mouth. His
hands pushed up under her t-shirt until he found her breasts, which
felt warm and heavy on his skin. He quickly lowered his mouth on
her tight, firm nipples: tugging, licking, scraping his teeth over
first one, then the other. Her hands moved restlessly in his hair
and her bottom moved over him harder.

He couldn’t believe it. Surely, Erica
wouldn’t do this in the car! But then he felt her hands, her cool,
long fingers on his waist, tugging at his jeans as she lifted her
bottom off him, long enough to fumble with his lap, until she
pulled his hard penis from his jeans.

He groaned when she put her hand on him,
feeling her warm fingers, and his breath hitched. His hands went up
her skirt, and pulled down the silk panties she wore. He pulled so
hard, he simply tore them. His finger brushed along her slit and he
felt her hot moisture on his fingertips. She nearly bucked at the
thrill of contact. He slid his fingers into her and she groaned as
her muscles tightened around him.

Shifting slightly, she moved herself over
him. Their hands came out of the way as she slid onto him. Slowly,
easily, her slick, hot opening let him in so delightfully, he had
to stop moving, to avoid coming then and there inside her. He held
her still, and slid all the way inside her rapturous heat. Her long
legs were wrapped around his back, astride him. Her bottom was on
his lap, and her breasts were bare. Her face flushed, and her lips
opened in awe as he felt his heart swelling with a strange
feeling.

Fuck.
What was this? This profundity?
This connection? Her eyes were on his, and this time, his were
open, looking directly at her. Twilight covered them in long,
purple shadows. Her hands came to his face, and his to hers, as she
put her lips on his in a perfect kiss. She kissed him as she rocked
her hips, slowly. Bringing him in and out of her as far as she
could, before sliding him inside her as deeply as she could.

She closed her eyes, and moved her hips
faster and harder over him. He could feel her bottom moving, and
her breasts brushing against his chest. He couldn’t imagine a
hotter, more erotic moment in his life. How the hell could it be
with a woman doctor? A woman who just pried out his innermost
darkness from him? A woman who wore pretty, neat, stylish clothes
that never even hinted at the heat they could generate together? A
woman he couldn’t look at without wanting to touch, hear, and make
love to?

A woman he could love.

No. He couldn’t love her.
No.
He
didn’t want to love her. He absolutely couldn’t love her. But then,
as she was perched over him, her body seeming to pull his hardness
farther inside her, he came just after she did. He nearly deflated
inside her after it was over. Her forehead dropped onto his
shoulder. Her hands were on each of his arms, holding on. He could
smell her and the soft scent of hairspray filled his nostrils.

Her breath slowly began to calm down and
regulate. Why did he find the simple, every day things about her so
goddamn intoxicating and interesting? So she wore hairspray. Why
did he care about what it smelled like against him after she
sweated during sex? He should have been disgusted and utterly
uninterested. He should have pushed her off him. But instead, his
lips found the top of her head, and he kissed her, just to inhale
the products she used on her hair.

His hands circled her waist and he squeezed
her. She pulled her shirt down. Her skirt fanned around them,
hiding all.

Her head turned, leaning into his shoulder,
with her body completely pliant over him, and resting on his chest.
He could feel her heat still and his body stiffened while yearning
to have her so close. She must have noticed. She didn’t get off him
though. She did what she always did: she stayed on him, all cuddled
and close.

The night’s darkness finally descended and
they were quiet. They didn’t talk for long time.

“Erica?”

“Hmm?” Her voice sounded sleepy.

“We didn’t use anything.”

“It’s better without, isn’t it?” she said
sleepily.

He stiffened, and pushed her back. She sat
up, slightly startled at his abruptness. “What do you mean?”

She patted his cheeks. “I mean for me, it
feels a lot better without a condom. And don’t worry, you’re dating
an Ob-Gyn. I’ve been on birth control since before you could date.
And we’re all clean, thanks to Tamira. We both got tested for all
the nasty, current STDs. So we’re fine.”

“You decided this all on your own?”

“No. I didn’t exactly think this evening
would end here. But it did and no harm done.”

He scowled. “You’re sure?”

“That I’m on birth control? Yes, I’m sure.
You can trust me. I won’t end up pregnant by you, be it real or
imagined.”

It was Erica. Of course, she wouldn’t do
that. She had too much sense, too much integrity. The woman didn’t
do anything selfish, ever.

He hesitated and pushed her bottom down so it
wasn’t right over him, thereby affecting his thought processes. She
shifted her legs eventually and he did his pants up, lifting his
butt and squirming around. Still, she stayed on him. He smiled to
himself. She always stayed on him, longer than he ever experienced.
She cuddled into him, while most of his bed partners would have run
away, too scared to stay. She always stayed and demanded his
affection.

“I saw you, you know.”

“Saw me where?”

“With Joelle’s baby. I saw you.”

She stilled, and her eyes closed. She lowered
her head. “I know you did.” She didn’t deny her longing and desire
for a baby, which Spencer witnessed.

She shrugged. “It’s not so uncommon, Spencer.
At some point, most women want to have a family, and babies of
their own. And after bringing countless babies into the world for
other women, maybe you can tell me how to keep from wanting one to
be mine? Tell me how I can avoid doing that?”

“I guess you would.” Erica was a normal,
beautiful, gentle, caring, whole woman. Of course, she wanted
normal things: dating, love, marriage, and her own babies. Of
course, she wanted that.

“I’m thirty-two, so it’s not like I have
another twenty years just to figure things out.”

“I’ll never want a kid. Or get married.”

“I know. I’ve always known it.”

“And yet—”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Here you are… what?”

“In love with you.”

He closed his eyes. She said it again. He
felt his lungs closing in, and his breath hitching. He didn’t like
it. The pressure, the expectations. What feelings like this did to
people.

He opened his eyes and said, “I’m not in love
with you, Erica.”

She smiled at him and put her hand to his
cheek. There she went again, with him being at his most awful, yet
she neither believed nor feared him.

“Yeah, you are, baby. You’re so in love with
me, you don’t know what to do with me.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

Erica watched his eyes shudder, and his
expression turned to stone as Spencer retreated into his usual,
closed-off self. She was fully prepared for him, yet again, to be
impersonal with her.

“We should go.” He nearly lifted her off him
in his attempt to prevent her from getting so close.

She let him. He had endured enough just
opening up to her for one day. One long, exposing day for him.
Progress for Spencer like never before. She started her car and
glanced his way. He was glaring out the window, with his long arm
resting on it.

Thinking of what? Barry? His mother? The
rape? Erica’s knowledge about it? What was he thinking about?

He suddenly shifted in his seat.

“How is it you’re so into my secrets, and my
past, and you won’t even introduce me to your mother? If you’re so
damn okay about being with me, calling me your boyfriend, why don’t
you tell me the reason you haven’t introduced your
twenty-six-year-old, lower class handyman boyfriend to your mother?
Tell me that, Erica Heathersby?” He sneered out the upper crust
name of Heathersby.

Erica took her eyes off the road long enough
to give him a look, then returned her focus to the road. “I can’t.
She’s dead.”

His mouth fell open. “Oh. Shit. I didn’t
know. I had no idea. You never let on. How? When?”

Erica shrugged. “When I was ten. She died of
ovarian cancer.”

“Ovarian cancer? Is that why you decided to
become a doctor?”

She smiled sadly. “She’s the reason for
everything that I am today. But yes, I studied women’s health
because of her. Because of how few ovarian cancers were caught in
time, especially back then. Because I nursed her and watched her
die in my arms when I was in the fifth grade. I also endured the
excruciating pain she suffered before she died. It made an
impression.”

“You were close to your mom?”

“Yes. She was smart, beautiful, and had a
contagious laugh that turned heads. And for all that, she was even
a good mother to me. She’d drop everything to spend time with me;
taking me to get an ice cream, or fawning over my latest crayon
drawing. She was, and is, everything I ever wanted to be.”

“What about your dad?”

“Dad? Oh my dad was there. As much as he ever
was there for anything.”

“Distant type?”

“No. Off in the Caribbean with his
mistress-type. His pregnant mistress.”

“The twins are your half siblings?”

“Yes. My father married Cora Lynn not even
three months after my mother died.”

“Jesus. That’s cold.”

“Funny part is: my dad’s not cold. He’s a
feckless flake. But loving. He loved me, and my mother even. But
when she got sick, he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t stand watching
her losing her hair, and becoming a skeleton. He couldn’t deal with
seeing her pain; it was too much for him.”

“He couldn’t take the pain?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But some people
can’t rise to the occasion, even when they have to. When humanity
demands that you do. He’s selfish, stupid, and materialistic.”

“Did you stay in contact with him?”

“Of course, I did. I still am. I was ten
years old. He was my father. My mother was dead. I had no one
else.”

“And this Cora, did she move in with
you?”

“Yes.”

“How could you not despise her?”

“I did… for years. Once I was old enough to
realize that Cora was as stupid and selfish as my father, I
accepted that they almost couldn’t help it. They are both pretty
people, and erroneously assume that gives them a free pass in life.
My mother chose my father, however, knowing that.”

“Maybe she just liked the Heathersby
money.”

Erica laughed and threw her head back as she
said, “It’s my mother’s money. From my mother’s family. My mother
is the Heathersby. My father always wanted her money, and made no
bones about that. But he genuinely loved my mom in his own way. I
think he admired her for being smart and rich so he just let her do
her thing, and all the while adored her. He took my mother’s name,
so he could be a Heathersby. He exploited it while trying to be a
big man around town, and used it to open every door he could budge
or unlock. Scary part was, it worked. My grandfather hired my
father to work at Heathersby Shipping. I don’t think my dad lasted
a month. Dad preferred to travel, lounge, sun bathe, drink martinis
at noon, and dance far into the wee hours of the night. Turned out
to be a blessing in some ways, because it allowed my mother to
become a brilliant and successful businesswoman, since she had to
manage the financial matters. She was happy with the life they
shared.”

“Your father took your mother’s name?”

“Yes. Crazy, isn’t it? He then turned around
and gave Cora Lynn my mother’s name. The children he impregnated
his mistress with while my mother lay on her death bed also have my
mother’s name.”

“Holy shit. How do you stand the
siblings?”

She shrugged. “Not their fault. I love them.
I genuinely love them. Cam, is eerily becoming my father
reincarnated. I hope, since he’s only twenty-two, he’ll eventually
grow up, and not be anything like my father. My sister, Morgan, is…
well, the complete opposite of me. In fact,
she
would be
like someone you would normally seek. After my mom died, they had
the twins and insisted upon continent hopping, so I pretty much
raised the twins more than acted like just their sister.”