“I was worried about you,” she begins.
“So was my PE teacher when I tried to jerk myself off during detention.”
He wishes his hard-on would subside against the cushion. He practically has to exert to hold the damn thing down.
“Where were you?” she says accusingly.
He contemplates lying, and then settles for a half-truth. “Settling a few debts.”
She bites her lip. He knows she’s upset. But he can’t tell her about what he has been doing with Delilah. He really can’t. She wouldn’t understand. She would try to make him stop. She would tell him that he’s in over his head and that Delilah is dangerous and all that crap. But she would never understand that he was doing it for her.
She opens her mouth to say something, and then seems to think the better of it. She bites down on her lower lip again. Hard. His heart skips a beat. It usually means that she knows or suspects something, and she’s refraining from saying it because she doesn’t want to cramp his style.
“Brian,” she says meaningfully, although that is not the foremost thing in her mind, “please, please don’t do anything . . . stupid.”
Define stupid.
“I’m not doing anything stupid,” he replies.
“I mean with that woman. You never know what she’s going to do to you.”
He wants to deny he was with ‘that woman’. But his heart won’t let him lie even though his brain tells him it’s the rational thing to do.
He says, “I’m not doing anything stupid, or foolhardy, or insane, or anything Republicans do. Happy?”
She gives him a look to suggest that she doesn’t believe him.
“How’s Thor?” he says lightly.
“I left him in charge of the gym.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, he can now get to deploy his management skills on a larger people group. Fancy that.”
“He’s not as stupid as you think he is, Brian.”
“I didn’t say he was stupid. I’m certain he has an I.Q. well into the low hundreds. He must be smart if he thinks you’re hot.”
She sighs. “Sarcasm isn’t going to get you anywhere, Brian.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic. I was trying to flatter you.”
She gets up. “I’m going to fix you something to eat. You’ve got to be hungry.”
He hasn’t eaten anything all day. He will need energy for what must come tonight. Which he isn’t looking forward to, even though his c**k will be up for the task, as it always is. It’s a force of nature unto itself.
“You need any help?” he calls after her.
“I’ll be fine. Go take a shower.”
He doesn’t need her to politely tell him that he stinks. Again.
*
After his (yet another) shower, he dresses in a white T-shirt and jeans. He immediately feels better. The aroma of spaghetti Vongole wafts into his bedroom. He comes out to the dining area and finds the table all set.
Déjà vu.
But the woman carrying the steaming pot from the kitchen is wholesome and beaming. Sometime during his shower, Sam made the decision not to press ahead with her line of questioning. There’s a resolve in her eyes and a spring to her step that he hasn’t seen an hour minutes ago. It is as though she has figured something out and decided to do . . . something.
He hopes it’s nothing dangerous.
“You OK?” he asks her.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She sets the pot upon on the tablemat. Then she smiles at him. “Eat up.”
He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He spoons a big helping of pasta on his plate, and she does the same.
Between bites, he says, “I want you to know that I’m totally OK with you and Thor.”
She puts her fork down exasperatedly. “There’s nothing going on between me and Thor.”
“Just so you’d know.”
“Are you trying to make yourself feel better about what you’re doing, Brian?” she says sharply.
He stops chewing. “What am I doing?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
He waves his fork. “I’m eating your calorie-laden carbs.”
She gives him a funny look that says, ‘Just like you to fob off a wisecrack as pain management’.
After a while, their talk veers off to other things. Like how the gym is doing. He feels guilty for not having been to the gym for three days, but he can’t bear to face anyone until he has worked this thing out.
Later, they just sit on the couch, watching TV. He has his arm around her, and she leans in to him and lays her head on his shoulder. They sit there quietly with so many words unsaid, each thinking their own turbulent thoughts.
6
It’s crafty, but Sam believes she can pull it off.
All she needs is several items which she will pay for in cash, and a whole lot of guts. What’s one more felony to be added to her list? She has already been charged for breaking and entering. If she’s going to jail, she might as well go in style.
She doesn’t say anything about her plan to Brian. She doesn’t want him to stop her.
Instead, she says, “Why don’t we stay in tonight and . . . ?” She trails a finger down his chest suggestively.
He still looks exhausted. The Xanax didn’t offer him a refreshing sleep.
“I can’t,” he says hesitantly. “I have other plans.”
She knows what they are. This means she has to act quickly. She tries to mask the palpitations in her breast, but she is certain he can discern them. He doesn’t say a word. There’s a guilt in his eyes he cannot erase, and she pretends not to see it.
He says, “Do you have to go back to the gym?”
“Thor is in charge, so they won’t miss me for a couple of hours.”
“Good.” He smiles. A little sadly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
For answer, he leans over to kiss her softly on the lips. His kiss holds so much meaning, so much regret that unbidden tears come to her eyes. She blinks them away quickly before he can see them. He kisses her again with feeling. She returns his kiss, open-mouthed, and soon, they are drinking in one another. Devouring each other’s mouths with abandon and a rush of clasping hands and roaming palms.
He explores her mouth. He is the most wonderful kisser she has ever known, and he sucks in her breath, the depth of her, her soul. It’s as though he knows he doesn’t have much more time to spend with her and he’s taking everything she’s willing to give him.