A Mess of Reason (19 page)

“Tess…oh fuck…I can’t stop. Dammit, I
can’t…I want you…”

He hooks his thumbs into the sides of my
panties, pulling them down swiftly and off of me. He greedily
spreads me, finding my slick. One hand fills and explores me while
the other skates across my breasts with greedy pinches that feel
like erotic raindrops of blistering heat. We grind against each
other, skin against skin, every piece of me craving all of him
inside of me.

“Please…oh, Scout. I want all of you…inside
of me.”

“Baby…this…now…Jesus, you’re so wet….”

Then, with my heartbeat dancing like
fireworks while his tongue deeply penetrates the depth of my mouth,
as his fingers explore, invade, sear and stir me…I let go. All of
me, falling into all of him. I drown in our union, lose myself to
the ride that my senses crave, the spill of emotion combined with
the furthest edge of heat that my body is able to drink in.

“Tess, fuck… Oh God, baby, come with me. Oh
Christ, yeah…”

His words incite a flame inside of me as I
hear my name on his lips. Our combined loss of control along with
the sight of him coming undone, his head falling back in ecstasy,
unravels me. With delirious devotion I let the raw, endless waves
of impulse guide me through the most charged orgasm of my life as
Scout comes in my hands at the very same time.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SCOUT

“Please…make love to me. I want you,
Scout.”

The sensuousness of our union leaves me
thunderstruck. I knew she’d touch me like she did. Once it started,
there was nothing that could have stopped me from indulging.
Another threshold—though one that can’t go beyond our current
crossing.

“Come here, gorgeous.” I lay her down next
me in a comforting spoon, her entire body next to mine, her soft,
round bottom snuggled tightly against me. I breathe in everything
about her and hope to hell the forces of good can find us. I can
see us like this in six months and then again in ten years. She’s
home to me, to everything inside of me.

“Please…I want you inside of me. Make love
to me.”

I’m fucked. Because I know what will happen
if I do and I know what will happen if I don’t: either way, I stand
to lose her.

“Tess…just once? Is that all you want from
me? I can’t do once. Do you want that? Is once enough for you? Is
it? Once might be the death of me.”

She flips over, pulling the blankets up to
her chin. A tiny sliver of light bounces off her eyes, making me
wonder what’s going on in her mind and how far she’s willing to go
to find us.

“Or the beginning of us?” she answers,
pressing herself against me. She’s soft, tiny…my end-all, be-all.
She feels like heaven lying in my embrace. Sliding one arm under
me, the other around me, she clings to my chest in a
never let
me go
way. I wish to hell… Damn, how I wish.

“Tell me then…tell me, baby, how this week
is going to shake out? Because once won’t happen, not until I know.
It will never be once with us. I’ve told you I can’t do that to you
or to me—to us. I can’t have you when you’re his…when I know in my
heart I may not get all of you for eternity.”

Her face is buried in my chest as she lets
out a deep, angst-riddled sigh, every ounce of which I easily read
into.

“Why are you attaching so much to it?” she
asked. “What ever happened to you and all of the one-night stands
you’ve had for years on end? Why can’t I fit that bill?”

A one-night stand? Lightning flashes through
my spine. Now she’s delusional.

“Really? How can you attach so little? Is
that who you want to be to me: a one-night stand? A thread of a
lover? A notch in my belt? Best friends…one erotically sensuous,
mind-altering fuck, and then what? We just go back to the way
everything was, nothing attached? Friends? I’ve already crossed the
line; I’ve gone too far. You own me… Fuck, you think I want to
stop? I’m seconds away from sinking my everything into you. Do you
not feel what I do—everything that ties us together, the chemistry
between us? You—the one woman I want—the only being I crave…I…Jesus
Christ, Tess. Maybe we’re more different than I thought we
were.”

“Why, because I want you to love me?”

I literally chuckle at this one. She’s
clearly stuck on some Land of Oz fantasy where all the poppy
meadows are sending out a fucked-up essence that’s twisting her
perspective around.

“I already love you. You’re killing me. Are
you blind to me? You want a quick hard fuck? That’s it? You want me
to fuck you? Now? You want me to spread your legs, sink myself into
you, love the ever-living daylights out of you…then move on as
though nothing ever happened? You must have more testosterone than
me. If you wanted me to love you, then you’d be making some changes
in your upcoming weekend plans. So tell me, what exactly is rocking
around in that brilliant head of yours? I’m leaving tomorrow, since
the snow has settled, and either I’ll be walking you down the aisle
to hand you off to your husband-to-be next Saturday, or I’ll be
taking you out on a date. Again, my lady…your call.”

She slides her arms off of me, pushing back
a little in refusal of my argument. I’d give anything to see her
face. This talking in the dark crap, though fine for a bit of
groping, is not working for me when the topic is this
life-altering. We should be looking at each other. I need to read
her eyes.

“Why do I have to choose?”

“You’d be okay hurting me like that? Because
the hole you’d be leaving in my heart would be massive if I fucked
you tonight and you still married him. That works for you? Does
it?”

“What do you want from me, Scout?”

“All of you. It’s that simple. All of your
trust. The fact that you want to marry a guy who you can’t give
that to is bullshit. You’re better than that. Can I turn on the
light to look at you while we talk, to look at your body that I’ve
just held and kissed and worshipped? Can you trust me? I need to
see your eyes and all they’re saying. Do they match your heart?
Please Tess…just fucking trust me.”

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want
her—she’s that ingrained in my world. But for the life of me, I
can’t understand how it is she feels okay with wanting to love me
and leave me so ruthlessly.

“No…no light. I already told you; I keep
telling you. I can’t give or promise you all of me in that way.
It’s asking too much—why don’t understand? Don’t you get me? That
may never happen. You can’t push me like that. No one has that
access. Not even you.”

She rolls back over, and this time there’s
no spooning, no flesh on flesh. Just a glacial distance that she
can’t seem to get beyond, making it feel as though a pool of ice
has just been dumped into my gut.

“Oh, I get it. And that’s what makes him the
safe choice, isn’t it? You, my lovely creature…you get to hide in
him. He’s as safe as a vault with no opening. God bless him and his
oblivion. The cape, the mask, the lock…everything you wear, he’s
blind to. As for me, nothing goes without notice to me. You won’t
get to hide from me. But to him, it’s all closed doors that he
couldn’t fucking care less about opening. He has no idea who you
even are, or that you’re hiding anything at all. You should be
proud of your Houdini trickery, sweetheart. Perfection without
chance of a reveal…half of you is all of you to him. He doesn’t
need to see who you are, because he doesn’t even know you exist on
another plain. And amazingly, it works for you. How very lovely for
your padlocked chest of emotions. He makes sense. That’s some kind
of love. Love…pfft. You think you love him? You don’t know love.
You don’t want love—you want convenient. You want foolproof. You
want a sure thing. I think I’m finally understanding who you are.
You don’t want love because it’s too messy, too risky…. too hard to
navigate with your mess of logic. Love takes courage and a
willingness to let go. Love’s a free fall, baby. But you’re stuck
in self-serving harness. You’ll never find love the way you’re
playing the game. Though you’ve forgotten one small detail: your
soul. She’ll rot without love, darling. Love is a dark angel, Tess:
it’s imperfect, just like you, just like all of us. You see, here’s
the thing. You want certain things I can’t offer. I can’t offer you
a blind eye. It’s all so ironic when I think of all the things I
love about you. Taking the safe route…now this is a new one for
you, girl.”

“Why is me saying I can’t hand over this
piece of me the safe choice? You’ve never been in my shoes. You
haven’t been hiding something your whole life. You won’t ever be
able to understand this, or what it does to me. And that means you
really can’t give me what I need, which is understanding. That
matters to me, just like what you want matters to you.”

“Understanding? Please. I can give you so
many things, but not with half of my heart. And certainly not if
you can’t trust me completely with your most intimate fears.
Haven’t I proven myself worthy? Obviously, if you don’t trust me
enough to open up and give me all of you, then I can’t fit into
your life in the way we both seem to want. I keep saying this and
I’m going to say it again: it’s your move. I’ll wait for you as
long as I need to. I love you, all of you…not just the surface
stuff. I’ve been crystal clear. I want all of you.”

“I think you’re being unfair.”

“What a load of crap, Tess, I could say the
same.”

“You know what, Scout? Fuck you.”

“No, Tess, not tonight. Maybe not ever if
you can’t find me with your trust.” With a pitchfork stabbing me
inside, I get out of the bed and walk out. I’m done with her
version of love.

*

The crispness of the morning is blinding.
Hard rays of light bounce off the hallway walls and ceiling as I
make my way to Tess’s room to say good-bye. She lies stretched out
on her bed amongst mounds of fluffy blankets that have wound their
way around her legs, making her look like she’s wearing toga. She’d
kill me if she knew I was looking at her. And I barely breathe
because I need this look. I need to see what it is that’s making it
impossible for her to come over to my side. What it is that has her
under lock and key; this thing that makes her so self-conscious
that she cannot even show me. As much as I love my Tess, I refuse
to enter a relationship with her knowing I could never make love to
her by candlelight. That she could never get out of the shower
without cowering away from me. That we could never be intimate in
all the ways I crave without her being terrified that I might judge
her.

Her cheeks wear an angelic blush that
matches the pink of her plump lips. Her flowing, honey-blond hair
lies in tangles and waves around her head with clumped ribbons of
it falling down onto her chest. And yes, her skin is horribly
damaged. Melted and scarred to a sobering degree. I’d felt it under
my hands, but to see it, even through my lens of love, is
heartbreaking. It’s no wonder she’s terrified to the point of
paralysis. I’m clear now why her vocabulary of trust can’t possibly
mirror my own. I walk, quiet as a ghost, back down the hall, then
leave Tess a note on kitchen counter. The sinking feeling in my
heart as I head out to my truck sits as heavy as the thirty-four
inches of snow that has fallen over the past few days and nights.
I’m not sure my lock-picking skills are as polished as they should
be to reach Tess. A little MacGyver magic could really do wonders
right about now. I know I could change her life if she’d let
me.

But I also know my chance to claim her is
nearly gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TESS

“Begging is not beneath me. So you may as
well buck up and give in. I still hold some sway with you, don’t
I?”

Scout and I bicker as we pull out of the
parking lot from the Whistlin’ Dixie Pub, where my rehearsal dinner
was held this evening.

“Oh, I’m clear: you can beg.” Short and to
the point, it’s all he’s giving me, and everything feels like a
bitter barb.

“How about we grab a six-pack and go to
Wild’s Pond? Old times? Please?”

“Tess, you ought to go home and get your
beauty rest. Tomorrow’s your big day. It wouldn’t be right for me
to keep you up talking half the night under the stars.”

Every word drips with sarcasm. He never
takes his eyes off the road or puts a hand on my thigh. Nothing
he’d normally do. I guess this is our new normal, by default. Or by
my fault.

“You’re such a pussy. Is this where we are
now? I’m getting married so this sort of thing is no longer part of
us?” My eyes are pinned to his clenching jaw, which twitches in a
steady rhythm. It’s his
I’m pissed
thing. He knows I see it.
But I leave him alone; he’s not finding me, hasn’t all night. I can
hardly blame the guy. When he showed up earlier to the dinner, he
kissed me on the cheek instead of on the lips. He never does that.
His eyes have been gray all night instead of his typical flaring
blue and he brought a bosomy, gift-wrapped date to the party, which
felt a little like a shiv in my gut. It was a pretty transparent
move.

“I have no idea what parts of us are still
us. We haven’t talked all week, and now you want to go and
reminisce at one of our old stomping grounds? Think your fiancé
would like this? I’m guessing things are going have to change. I
don’t know which parts of us you even want, Tess. Last weekend you
wanted very specific parts of me, and now, what parts? I don’t
think it would be right if we went out to Wild’s tonight.”

“‘Right’? Since when do you care about
right?” I smack him on the arm, then flick the radio on to Country
101.

“Right’s a little different now. We need to
redefine some things between us since you’re wearing another man’s
engagement ring.” His words are wrapped in a sneer as he slams the
radio off with his fist. Still not one glance toward me.