An Unforgivable Love Story Page 4

  “It wasn’t until my senior year of college when I became friends with a guy who was a Fine Arts major that I dug out the negatives and asked him to enlarge some of the images for my apartment. He thought that I had taken the pictures.” I chuckle softly at the thought of that. “We both agreed it would have been weird having a naked woman plastered on my walls, so we cropped some of the shots and double processed a few of them in the photography lab.”

  “Wait. The photo above your bed, the one where several shots are laid over each other … is that?” I nod, impressed by his memory. “That photo was exquisite.”

  “I know. That’s the extent of my thievery though. I’ve always been one to play by the rules, but I don’t feel guilty about it. It’s like he trusted me with his secret the day he picked up his photos. And I liked holding onto that man’s secret. But even more, I like that I became part of the secret, too.”

  I turn my cheek to look at him and he studies my face like he’s reading the page out of a book intently, committing the words to memory.

  “I think that’s a beautiful sentiment, you being someone’s secret.” He presses his lips to my temple and I feel it all the way down in my toes.

  “I’m pretty sure that that story doesn’t make my life a book worth reading. But fortunately, I still have time to add some exciting new chapters.”

  “True, true,” he muses. “So if you could do anything in the world and know you wouldn’t fail, what would you do? That seems like it’d be worthy of a chapter or two.”

  “Hmm …” I take a small sip of scotch and savor the burn in my nose from its vapors. My answer to this question is easy, but it’s one I’m not going to tell him. If I knew I wouldn’t fail, I’d want to fall in love again. But to love is to be brokenhearted. And up until this past weekend, when this mysterious man literally walked right into my life, I much preferred a string of meaningless one night stands in lieu of putting myself out there to be hurt. So instead, I give him another truthful response. “I suppose I would run a marathon. Or maybe write a book. What about you?”

  He looks in his glass as he swirls the ice cubes, presumably lost in thought. “I think I’d start all over.”

  Just as I’m about to press him on what that means, Simon leans in slowly and my eyes lock in on his perfect mouth. His lips are so inviting and I want nothing more than to dive into his mouth and allow him to swallow me whole. I am salivating for his touch, and when his hands finally reach my skin, it isn’t just my mouth that’s watering for him.

  When his hands reach up and hold my face he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, Elyse.”

  The way he says my name makes me weak. And I close my eyes, lost in the intoxication of him.

  I feel the scruff of his five o’clock shadow against my cheek. And I feel the delicate brush of his thumb against my jawline. And I feel the tenderness of his exhaled breath enveloping my skin. And for the first time in a long time, I allow myself to just feel.

  Simon presses his lips against mine. This dance we share is as natural as breathing. But this isn’t just a kiss. Our tongues mesh together, silently writing the opening lines of a novel and I feel it … I feel him on a completely different level.

  When we finally pull apart from each other, the bewildered look on his face matches what I’m feeling inside. And there’s only one word for it … whoa.

  Neither of us say anything, but we know the other felt it, too.

  Whatever it was.

  After a few moments of comfortable silence and studying each other’s faces, I do the only thing that feels natural in the moment. I seductively finger the highest iridescent button on my blouse, preparing to slowly take it off.

  Simon reaches out and stills my hand. “Hey,” he murmurs under his breath. “I didn’t bring you up here for that.” There’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes me believe it.

  “I know you didn’t. But I want to give myself to you.” My words shock me. I’m rarely this forward. But it’s true. I am this man’s for the taking.

  “I have a rule. I never sleep with a woman on the first date.”

  “Fuck rules. They’re meant to be broken.” And it’s not like we haven’t slept together before. We did as strangers. And while we’re not technically strangers now, there is still much to learn about each other.

  I lean forward and nip his lips with my teeth before sitting back on my heels. Simon pulls his hand back again and I slowly begin to undress as he watches me intently. When I finally reach the bottom button on my blouse, I slide it off of my shoulders and toss it to the wayside.

  Simon leans over and kisses me on my collarbone before wrapping his arms around me. He caresses me with breathtaking reverence, tracing his fingers up my spine, touching bone after bone like he’s holding the individual beads of a rosary in silent worship.

  Then, in an unexpected instant, my back is against the couch and our eyes lock, him devouring me with a single gaze. He pauses thoughtfully before he tugs the side zipper of my pencil skirt, pulling it down my body at a painfully slow pace.

  He takes his time exploring my body, commenting on the tiny birthmark on the underside of my breast when he frees it from my bra.

  Taking my nipple in his mouth, he swirls his tongue over the delicate flesh before hooking his thumbs inside my panties, stripping them from my ass.

  I can’t help but moan in delight as he leaves kisses down my breasts, abdomen and thighs. The moment his hot lips leave my body, my skin chills in delight. And then he’s here, there and everywhere all at once. His hands at my breasts and ass. His face buried between my legs.

  Like a voyeur, I’m entranced watching the way he savors my body. The way his tongue lights the fuse within me over and over and over again. The way he watches me watching him with those wolfish eyes, reading me like an erotic novel.

  My body begins to writhe as I get closer to the edge. And just as I’m about to hit the point of no return …

  He stops.

  My eyes shoot open to glare at him. “Oh my god … What are you doing?” I throw my head back against the cushion and pant.

  Simon laughs softly. Part evil. Part teasing. But completely adorable. He winks. “Tension. The best experiences in life all come down to that one little word … tension.”

  “Trust me, Simon. I feel the tension.” And good Lord, I do. It’s overwhelming.

  “No … you can’t just feel the tension. I want you to feel me until your body quakes with a pleasure so intense you can’t even feel me anymore.”

  Holy shit! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, shit, shit.

  His words practically make me unravel to my core. And another piece of the puzzle that is Simon, falls into place … He likes to be in command.

  Between panted breaths, I inform him that he can’t thicken the tension if he’s wearing all those clothes. And then in one swift motion he pulls his shirt up and over his head while I make quick work of his fly. Once nothing is in our way, I take the condom from his hands and carefully open the foil with my teeth before sheathing his beautiful, taut package.

  I wrap my knees around his waist, exactly where they belong. And then before I know it, Simon pushes himself inside of me in one forceful thrust and I feel it in every cell in my body. After a moment, we find our rhythm and I’m tempted to fight him for control. But the look in his eyes tells me it’s a battle I’d lose — and willingly so. Lying here underneath him puts me directly on top of the world, pushing me higher and higher until I can’t take it anymore and I clench tightly to his body as a paralyzing orgasm rips me in two.

  I’m so wound up that it doesn’t take long for him to bring me to my release first. Simon follows suit moments later and then crumples into a sexy, sweaty heap on top of me.

  With his head resting on my breast, he looks up at me shyly. I never noticed it before, but his blue eyes have little flecks of gold that reflect light in a way so magnificent, I nearly forget how to breathe.

  “Well … that was unexpected.
” Simon smiles in satisfaction.

  I laugh softly and run my fingers through his hair. “Sometimes the best things in life are the things you can’t predict.”

  “Life’s no fun if you’re able to predict what’s coming next. And you, Elyse … I’ve never met a woman like you before. And there’s nothing that could have prepared me for your arrival.”

  Five

  Liquid Truth

  One date turned into four.

  And weeks turned into a month.

  And before I even realized it, the mere thought of Simon turned me into that giddy mush of a girl. I’ve always hated women like that. But now that it’s turned into my reality, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not so bad after all. I mean, other guys never lit me up quite like he does. Besides, if you can’t turn into a giddy mush of a girl at an overtly chivalrous act, then there probably isn’t much hope for you. There wasn’t much hope for me.

  And then I met Simon.

  Simon and I do our best to see each other as often as we can whenever he’s in town. And when he’s gone, we try to talk each night, or at the very least text, assuming the time zone difference allows. His thoughtfulness knows no bounds. I willingly allow him to invade my thoughts when we’re apart. But shit. When we’re together things are just … intense. Perfectly so.

  Just this past weekend the man brought me to multiple orgasms using only a feather from my down comforter and his index finger.

  While I hate the void I feel when he’s gone, my favorite thing about Simon traveling is how he leaves the simplest of gestures to let me know he’s thinking about me and still there. I’ve found notes hidden in my bathroom vanity, had the occasional bouquet of lilies sent to my office, and even discovered “movie date” appointments added to my calendar so we can watch the same film at the same time, even if we’re half a world apart.

  It’s a few minutes before eight and I’m about to hit play on Top Gun — his favorite movie and this evening’s movie date selection when my phone sounds off.

  Simon: Hey there, Maverick! It’s nearly two in the morning here, but I’m ready to start watching. You?

  Me: Yes! Popcorn is in the microwave and Netflix is ready to roll.

  Even though he’s in England until next week, he’s doing his best to stay on Chicago time.

  Simon: Me, too. Hit play at the top of the hour?

  Me: You got it. I just wish you were next to me.

  Simon: I know, baby. Miss you.

  My insides warm at his declaration and I grab the popcorn from the kitchen before settling into my couch, pulling my favorite afghan up around my waist. When I hit play, I instantly start jamming out to Danger Zone.

  When Simon discovered that I had never seen Top Gun he nearly blew a gasket. He jokingly stated that this crime was grounds for divorce and that this had to be rectified as quickly as possible.

  About an hour into the movie, my phone chimes again.

  Simon: I’m falling asleep, babe. Finish the movie and we’ll talk tomorrow. Be prepared to be quizzed!

  Me: Good thing I’m a straight A student … and also that this movie is so damn awesome. Sleep well, Goose.

  Simon: No. Don’t call me Goose. Goose dies at the end.

  Me: Spoiler alert!

  Simon: Sorry (not really). I always found Goose to be a bit of a douche. Besides, I’m much better looking than him.

  Me: Aww! Don’t be like that. Don’t lose that loving feeling.

  Simon: Not when I’m around you. Sleep well, baby.

  Me: Night.

  I was prepared to spend the rest of my night alone, but Alex showed up unannounced a few minutes ago. I’m feeling a little lonely knowing Simon is an ocean away, so I welcome the company. Except the guy sitting next to me isn’t really Alex. It’s a pathetic, mopey version of my friend.

  We’re staring blankly at the TV, so I grab the remote to hit pause and turn my attention toward Alex.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  Usually, an hour alone with him is akin to a day at Disneyland, minus the long lines. You are inevitably left exceedingly happy and he makes it so easy to forget about the bullshit in the world. He’s always been my dose of Prozac. But today he’s acting like someone ran over his puppy with a lawnmower. His presence is downright depressing.

  “Eh … I broke up with Maureen yesterday.”

  Good. I never cared much for that girl. She was far too needy and I always felt he could do better. Someone who would actually appreciate him for being him.

  “Oh, no! What happened?” I try to keep my voice light and avoid saying anything negative about her. You never know if they’ll end up back together. I’d hate for my true thoughts about her to be looming in the back of his mind and impact his future happiness.

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “It was time. She was a stage four clinger and I felt like I was just wasting my time on her when I already know what I want. Besides, I know you never cared much for her.” Alex flashes me the same sad smile that runs in the Phinney family. My cheeks blush at his comment and I don’t deny his statement.

  “I’m sorry.” I offer up the words because it’s the right thing to do, even though we both know they’re empty. The only thing I am sorry for is the fact that he’s hurting.

  “It’s okay. When I really stopped to think about it, I didn’t care much for her either. Being with her was convenient more than anything else.” Alex laughs softly and it instantly warms my heart. Maybe he’s not really hurting after all?

  “Well, at least you aren’t stringing anyone along.”

  Alex silently nods in agreement. “So what about you? Are you still sleeping with that one guy?” His face turns morose. He looks at me with sad eyes and holds my gaze for a little too long with an expression that is a little too hopeful.

  “Simon?”

  “Yeah … that’s right. Simon.”

  “It’s weird. I guess we’re seeing each other. But nothing is defined.” I’m not in a place where I feel like we need definition. Right now, I’m just having fun because ever since Jason, I’ve vowed to have a little more fun with my love life. Alex arches an eyebrow at me suspiciously. “I know what you’re thinking ... this guy is just using me. Or maybe I’m using him. But it’s not like that.” I reach my hand out across the couch and he looks at it before grabbing it and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, that’s all.”

  “I know.” My lips press together in a tight, appreciative smile and I nod.

  Alex and I have always been like thunder and lightning. Close together and part of the same storm, but never clashing in perfect sync. I had given up hope long ago that things would happen between us but also felt that in another universe, a different lifetime, our fates would collide.

  After Jason left, things between Alex and me were strained for some time. And why wouldn’t they be? Alex introduced me to Jason. Jason and Alex were cousins. Technically, they still are. Nobody ever anticipated the emotional damage that was left in Jason’s wake or the longterm psychological effects of his screwed-up antics. Alex doesn’t have to say it, but I know he has never truly forgiven himself for what happened. He silently takes the blame for everything. And he shouldn’t. It’s not like Alex is the one who made his cousin get in my cousin Aimee’s panties.

  “I’m not going to get hurt. Simon is a good man. Once you meet him, you’ll see.” I’m confident that Simon will get along swimmingly with my friends and family. There are a lot of similarities between Simon and Alex. Assuming things continue to head down on this inevitable path to a defined relationship, our circles of friends will merge and I’ll hopefully see a lot more of my man.

  Alex grimaces but says nothing for a while. I hate that he’s struggling with this. When he finally does speak, it’s a simple request. “Just promise me that you’ll trust yourself, Elyse. Okay?”

  “I promise,” I whisper.

  The rest of our evening goes without consequ
ence. He finishes watching Top Gun with me, chiding me the entire time over the fact I haven’t seen the eighties classic.

  The hum of my ceiling fan cuts through our comfortable silence, playing a gentle interlude. It’s a lazy evening, like most evenings, except there’s a man sitting next to me on my couch and that man is not Simon.

  After a sleepless night dealing with his crying girlfriend, or rather ex-girlfriend, Alex had a rough day on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. I had a rough day dealing with a client who thought they knew what they wanted, but ultimately had no idea. Add to that me pathetically missing my boyfriend (for lack of a better word) and we are a sight for sore eyes. The only logical cure was a case of pilsner and some shitty reality TV. That was until the cable kicked off and we ran out of beer about an hour ago.

  And so here we sit.

  In silence.

  We’re curled up on the couch together in close proximity and his eyes have been closed for the last ten minutes. He looks so peaceful … so handsome. And for one fraction of a moment, part of me wishes I hadn’t met Simon so I could finally fall in sync with Alex. Just to see.

  I’m staring at my sleepy friend when his eyes slowly open and bore right through me. The look is intense and pleading. It’s as if his eyes are saying please. It sets my insides aflame with excitement and guilt and complete and total confusion. Maybe Olivia was right? Perhaps this was more than a one-sided crush?

  He leans in ever so slowly and I instinctively mirror his move, pausing with just a breath between us. I’ve imagined this moment for as long as I can remember.

  And it’s finally here.