Damage Done (24 page)

When she looked up from the vegetables, she'd already
finished two glasses of wine. She took the beach bag to the master suite and
threw it on the plush king size bed, grateful the room was so inviting, then
spied the large garden tub through the bathroom door and made a mental note to
find some bubble bath. Surely Jake had some fancy organic bath fizzies around
there somewhere.

The album ended as she made
her way to the porch to watch the sun set over the lake, the gorgeous pinks and
blues were drowning the clouds on the horizon, begging to be worshipped. She
thought to get her canvas and paints, she couldn't have prayed for a more
stunning muse, but it was too late. She was tired and wanted to enjoy the view,
she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed a sunset, or a quiet moment
alone that wasn't polluted by visions of women with black eyes, or fear over
screwing up her kids, or death.

Her mind raced back to the
time when she'd first faced death, but she fought the chill that shot through
her and tried not to give in to the need to remember.

The sound of her cell ringing from inside brought her back
to the sinking sun, now on the final leg of its race into the horizon, and she
went inside with her empty wine glass to dig out the phone. It was Kenneth.
Twice in one day? Something was wrong, or he was calling to fight some more.

"Hello?"

"Rachel. Hey," he
said, his voice somber and low.

"Hey."

"You made it?"

"Yes, I'm sorry I
didn't call. I've been here about an hour. Are y'all okay?"

"Sure, we're
good," he said, "The kids are in the backyard playing with the
neighbors, Jake and Mark are picking them up first thing in the morning."

She waited for him to
continue, but when he didn't she said, "Sounds good."

"Rachel."

"Yes?"

"Listen, I want to tell
you I'm sorry. For earlier."

She hadn't expected an apology. She held her breath, unsure
of what to say to him, her fingers gripping the phone tightly.

"Rachel?"

"I'm here."

"Really. I'm sorry. I'm
sorry for everything. I know I've been preoccupied and things have been tense,
but I want to make it better. For all of us."

She was weary of this game.
She wanted to tell him it was too late to make it better, the damage was done.
They'd gone too long, the distance and the tension, they'd poisoned her against
him, against their marriage. She wanted to tell him that she'd never truly been
in love with him, that her life was dark when she'd married him, and she'd
never given him the love he'd deserved.

She wanted to tell him she'd mourned the loss of someone
else, and it had kept her from loving him.

But she couldn't. She didn't want to hurt him. He'd helped
her put herself together again, held her when she'd screamed in the night,
convinced her she could be a good mother. Whatever else had happened, Kenneth
was still in her heart. But Dylan was in her soul, and she'd never really let
him go.

"Rachel?"

"I'm sorry, I'm here.
I'm sorry, too, Kenneth."

She took a deep breath and finished, "But I'm really
unhappy. And so are you. It's not fair to either one of us, and it's certainly
not fair to Hunter or Lauren."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we can't go
on like this. I need to be alone."

"I thought that's what
you were doing this weekend."

He hadn’t understood, and
she couldn’t bring herself to tell him over the phone.

"I'm not sure what else
to say. I don't want to argue, let's just pick this up on Monday, okay?"

"Fine. Monday."

"Give it back!"
Lauren screamed in the background.

Rachel was relieved he would have an excuse to get off the
phone.

"Bye, Rach."

"Bye."

She took a deep breath and set the phone on the counter and
saw the light blinking. She missed a text message, it was Dylan.

Don't be angry.

Angry about what? She
emptied the bottle of pinot in her glass and considered a response when she
noticed headlights blinking through the trees, a car coming down the twisted
driveway. She walked towards the porch with her wine, pushed the door open and
stood patiently. Perhaps a neighbor had seen the lights and was coming to make
sure nobody was robbing the place.

The car approached
carefully, unfamiliar with the dark landscape, until it broke from the crowded
trees and pulled up behind her SUV. The headlights and then the engine died,
and Dylan stepped out from the driver's seat. He shut the door quietly, smiled
and shrugged as if to say, "I couldn't help it."

She walked back into the
kitchen, butterflies taking over her stomach and her chest, set down her wine
glass and steadied herself against the counter.

"Rachel?" his
smooth voice called from the front door, "Rach? Can I come in?"

She laughed at his asking
for permission to come inside after he'd driven all this way.

"Of course. I'm in the
kitchen."

She switched to water, an
entire bottle of wine in an hour had been more than enough to cripple her good
sense. She stood at the sink and felt him close the distance, the heat from his
body washing over her from behind. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, the
same clean musk she'd smelled days ago.

He moved her hair gently to the side, gripped her hips and
she felt his open lips graze her shoulder. She shuddered in response and tilted
her head back to give him access to the sensitive place.

"Are you upset I
came?" he breathed into her ear.

"I'm upset you didn't
come sooner."

"Rachel, say the word
and you'll never have to wait for me again."

His tongue ran from her ear
to the back of her neck, he blew coolly on the wet trail and his hands left her
hips, moving around to embrace her from behind. He pulled her tightly to him
and his teeth sunk into her shoulder. She flinched, unsure at first, and then
welcomed the pleasure as he began sucking and kissing his way back up her neck
towards her ear.

"Mmmmm..." she
murmured, "Don't stop."

“You liked that?”

"I just-"

"You did like it," he whispered, "Just say
it."

He bit her neck again and she shivered, unfamiliar with the
pleasure the tiny bit of pain had brought her. His hips held her to the counter
as he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. He threw it
to the floor, unsnapped her bra and slid it down her arms, bringing his mouth
back to her flesh. The large, soft hands ran flat along her prickled flesh
until they found the curve under her breasts, then made their way back down to
her hips.

"Ah, puss," he whispered hoarsely, "I can’t
stop thinking about you, turn around and let me see you."

A flicker of insecurity shot
through her at the thought of his seeing her bared to him in the unforgiving
kitchen light, her shrunken breasts and wilted belly, victims of age and
childbearing. He leaned back and gave her hips a nudge, she took a deep breath
and turned to face him, bared at the chest and bared to her soul.

"I'm not the pretty
picture I was at eighteen," she said, finding the courage to look up into
his still gorgeous face.

The years had been better to him.

He shifted his weight and
stepped back, his hands still on her hips, and studied her face, then he went
to his knees before her, delicately lifting one foot and then the other as he
slid her loafers from her feet. He unbuttoned and slid her jeans down her legs,
pulled them off and dropped them to the floor. His eyes held hers as he put his
fingers into the waistband of her panties. He took his time sliding them off,
his eyes never leaving her face. 

She held tightly to the
counter and closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe as he watched her face
and bared her to him. She'd never been so exposed, stripped in a brightly lit
room with the man she'd first trusted with her body all those years ago, and
here she stood again, Dylan urging her to trust him again. He rose to his feet
and stepped back, arms at his sides.

"Rachel, look at
me," he said, impervious to her discomfort.

She opened her eyes and held her breath, her knuckles white
against the black granite.

"You're nothing like
the pretty picture you were at eighteen," he began, his eyes a hurricane
rushing over her, "You're even more stunning, more lovely now. You're a
mother and a businesswoman, you've devoted your life to helping people. You're
doing amazing things, Rachel. You are more appealing to me now than that skinny
eighteen year old girl ever was. She was beautiful and smart and talented and I
loved her more than my own life, but- that girl is a ghost, she haunted me. The
woman I see now is a nymph, a siren, she's possessed me."

Her grip on the counter
faded, the tension in her body fled, and she laughed, "You always were
such a cheesy romantic."

He grinned, reaching for her
hips, "And you were always such a vicious bitch, laughing at me for being
a cheesy romantic. But it's your fault, you do that to me."

He'd always been so
unabashedly romantic, he'd never pretended with her. And he'd made her feel
whole, given her strength where there'd been none, liberated her from the
clutches of trepidation and doubt. Just as he had years before, he stood there
waiting, yielding control to her, empowering her.

He loved her in spite of her flaws, and maybe even because
of them. And he was so damn sexy, she couldn't get enough of it.

She wrapped her fingers
around his arms and pulled him to her, the invitation clear. He lifted her to
him, their mouths struck violently and she threw her arms around his neck, her
legs around his waist, gripping him tightly. He turned and made his way blindly
back towards the living room, their kisses softening as their tongues circled
and slid across one another's lips.

He set her gently on the
couch and stood over her, reaching up to pull the t shirt from his chest. As it
stretched over his arms, exposing his hardened chest, carnality lurched in her
sex, and she lost all patience. She moved to the edge of the couch and pulled
him hurriedly between her bare legs, reaching up to unbutton his fly and push
his pants down. His cock stood at attention under the gray boxer briefs, and
she ran her fingers over the outline it made through the material. His hands
went to her hair, smoothing it back until he could hold it securely behind her
head, giving him the room he needed to see her face.

She pressed her cheek
against the hard shaft and rubbed it gently over her face and lips, her hands
exploring the firm ass and thick legs behind it. Dylan groaned under his breath
and she glanced up at his face, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Kiss it, puss,"
he said.

She watched his face as she
slipped her fingers into his briefs and pulled them off, putting her open mouth
to its tip, breathing against the flesh before brushing her lips against the
head.

"You're so fucking
sexy, Rachel," he rasped, "I've been starved for you."

She licked under his head
and circled it with her tongue, then slowly sucked him into her mouth until his
breath caught and his hand gripped her hair a little tighter, and she gasped.

"Do you like it when I hold your hair tight?"

Unable to say it that it had turned her on, she took her
time pulling his dick from her mouth before sliding it back in, feeling it grow
harder with every stroke. Then she took as much as she could into her mouth and
ran her hands up his chest, withdrawing slowly and standing to look up into his
face. There’d be plenty of time for slow and sweet later.

He kissed her tenderly and
ran his hand ran down her body to the crease between her legs, his fingers
gliding smoothly between the folds, her legs trembling as soon as he touched
her lips.

"Oh my God, you're so
fucking wet."

"Fuck me then."

She’d built so many walls
around her to stay protected, to feel safe, Dylan gave her the courage to tear
them down and she fell back on the couch and spread her legs, unashamed of her
newly discovered wanton manner. He knelt between her legs and used his hand to
slide his dick along the slick folds of her cunt, licking and kissing his way
over her neck to the curve of her collarbone. Her hands raked along his chest
and arms until he slowly delivered it inside and her body screamed in pleasure,
her orgasm surfacing before he'd entered completely.

"Cum all over that
dick," he growled in her ear, driving harder into her with every thrust.

Waves of climax rushed through her and she reached up to
kiss and suck his salty skin, his chest towering above her.

"Your pussy is so
fucking good, Rachel."

She moaned, moving him to pick up the pace, his dick
growing larger inside of her until it pulsed with the unmistakable signs of
release.

"Cum for me, let me
feel you," she whispered.

He thrust deep inside and
groaned, his dick throbbing inside her, his arms trembling as he came, hovering
over her. He rested his head gently against her neck, quick breaths shooting
across her wet skin as she ran her fingers through his hair, and then down
along the curves outlining his shoulders and back.