16. Sylvia
SYLVIA
T he bra is of no importance at all.
I have no need of a confidence booster, not when Mike is looking at me as if I’m a goddess, but also, he clearly doesn’t care about lingerie.
The sports bra doesn’t even merit a glance.
He’s interested in what’s inside – me! – and he doesn’t seem to find any shortcomings, either.
He caresses me with reverence, kisses me and stirs me as no other lover has ever done.
Not even him. We were each other’s firsts. We fumbled around. We had enthusiasm and we got it done, but this, this lovemaking is unbelievably, irresistibly, addictively good.
And his admiration gives me new confidence. I feel beautiful. I feel treasured and admired. I feel like I can’t do anything wrong. We anticipate each other in a way that seems magical and every touch feels so good. I want more. I want it all. And Mike is right there with me.
I love watching him, the way his body goes taut when my fingertips brush over his skin, the way his eyes seem lit with blue fire when he breaks our kisses.
He keeps stopping to look at me, as if he can’t believe how good this is either.
He seems to be as amazed as I am. I love how his dark lashes sweep down when he’s almost overwhelmed, as if my caress makes him feel vulnerable.
I love that I can take him to that place and keep him there, even for a little while.
Just being with him and seeing that fills me with such tenderness that my heart squeezes tight.
I love how he’s gentle with me even though he’s obviously powerful.
The contrast between our bodies delights me. I want to draw him nude.
He urges me to climax twice before he puts on the condom and I help him with it, just to be able to touch him more. I straddle him and he looks up at me, smiling a little, then his eyes blaze as I take him inside me. Smoothly, slowly, as if that’s exactly where he’s destined to be.
I love how huge he is, how right this feels.
We just stare at each other for a long moment, savoring.
Then I move and Mike inhales sharply. His hands close around my waist and he holds me tight.
He moves more and I urge him on until finally he drives so deep that I think I’m going to taste his release.
There’s no room in my thoughts to even remember any other lover.
My world is all about Mike. I feel captured, claimed – and irresistibly beautiful.
When he comes, his release so powerful that he bares his teeth and arches his back, lifting me off the chaise lounge. His fingers dig into my skin and I watch, knowing he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I want to draw him like this. I want to capture this image, so I’ll never lose it.
Then Mike opens his eyes and smiles at me. My heart flutters as he takes my hand in his and kisses my palm. He runs a fingertip down my arm and murmurs my name.
Could this be more perfect?
I slide down to lean on his chest, still straddling him, and kiss him again. Our kiss is slower this time, less urgent, just as hot.
“I think our technique has improved,” I whisper when I can and he chuckles.
“There was nowhere to go but up,” he muses, his hand sweeping down my back.
“Good intentions, though.”
“Horny teenagers.” He spears his fingers into my hair and pulls me down for another searing kiss. “Worked out all right, though.”
We get lost in each other’s eyes again. “No regrets,” I whisper and his eyes go dark.
“Not one.” He pulls me down into an enveloping hug, his hand on my nape, and I nestle against his heat. We’re tangled together on the chaise lounge, not precisely comfortable, but I don’t want to move. The beat of his heart is beneath my ear and his warmth surrounds me.
“I noticed you’ve given up on trucks with stick shifts,” I tease and smile as he chuckles, vibrating beneath me.
“That first night was instructive in terms of their shortfalls.”
I brace myself above him again, letting my fingertips trail over his nipple. I play with it, watching him catch his breath. “So, you’re still making out in your truck?”
He smiles. “Nope.”
“Then why the bench seat?”
“Tomatoes, of course.”
“Are they the answer to every question?”
His brows rise and he looks resigned for a moment. “To most of them anyway.”
“I thought you liked your job.”
He looks at me, his playfulness gone. “I do but it seems like more than a job, sometimes. A lifestyle choice, maybe.”
I smile because I think I’m supposed to, but he doesn’t .
“There are things I like about it and things I don’t. Probably like every other job.” I get a look. “How about the restaurant business?”
“Good and bad,” I have to admit. “I like the café, though.”
“Why? Because it’s a partnership?”
“Yes, but that’s not entirely it. I like not having a late dinner crowd. I like that Merrie can follow her muse, even though that can be dangerous.”
“How so?”
“She gets excited about the possibilities and can be more adventurous than clients expect. I’m trying to keep that genie in the jar this time.”
“Because you want to stay in Empire.”
There’s no question in his voice but I nod. “I do.”
He pulls me down for a quick but thorough kiss. “I want you to stay in Empire, too, Sylvia,” he whispers against my temple, his tone filled with a heat that makes me shiver.
Turns out there’s nothing plain and simple about making love with Mike. It’s wonderful and immersive and complicated and addictive. I don’t want to have this conversation. Not right now.
I wanted this and only this, but his tone gives me a feeling that Mike wants more.
I couldn’t survive that heartbreak a second time.
I’m not sure I can resist him if he asks for more now.
I start to get up before he demands any promises, but Mike isn’t going to let me run.
He gets up and swings me into his arms again, stealing another triumphant kiss.
I can’t complain about this at all. I love being held against him.
I love the prospect of another round. I feel as if I’ve dodged a bullet and that calls for a celebration.
I wind myself around him and kiss him hungrily, making sure conversation is a distant option .
“There has to be a washroom,” he says eventually, looking around my studio as if one will magically reveal itself.
“Let’s use Merrie’s, but be quick,” I suggest and he nods. He pauses in the doorway but there’s no sound from downstairs. I point and he carries me to Merrie’s apartment. The doors are open and there are no lights on. Mike moves quickly to the washroom, turns on the lights and shuts the door.
We wash up together, taking turns rinsing each other down, pausing for some more hot kisses, then Mike backs me into the wall.
I’m trapped between him and the tiles, which is glorious.
He locks one arm around my waist and the other rises to cup my breast. His thumb slides across the nipple with just the right amount of force, and I gasp.
“That thumb has been to sex camp,” I manage to say.
His smile flashes. “That thumb tells no tales.” He bends to kiss my nipple, then suckles it a little, grazing it with his teeth and generally driving me out of my mind. I’m writhing against him, when he stops to whisper against my skin.
“What now, Sylvia?” he asks, his voice husky, and my mouth goes dry. Those blue eyes are very very close and his expression is intent.
I am simmering and impatient, yet can’t look away. “I think you should eat me.”
“I will,” he says with welcome resolve. “But after that?”
“I could go down on you.”
“And after that?”
“Back into the studio, I guess, maybe to try the chair…”
He kisses me to silence and I almost forget the question. “Tomorrow, Sylvia. What happens next? Where do we go from here?”
I try to step out of his embrace and this time, Mike lets me go. I grab a towel as my dread rises. “Why do I have the feeling there’s a right answer? ”
I feel him behind me, watching, motionless, probably not even blinking. “There’s your answer and my answer. You can’t blame me for hoping they’re the same.”
He’s too serious, too focussed, and I just can’t go there yet. Maybe not ever.
“I don’t want more than this right now.”
I hear him catch his breath but he doesn’t speak.
I turn to face him but he’s frowning at the floor, looking like a god disappointed in the weakness of mortals.
“Mike, I can’t want more.” His lips tighten, but I reach out and touch his shoulder.
“Not from you, but not from anybody. I still have to get Sierra through high school and off to college. I still have to help Una get through her treatment. I still don’t know if Merrie and I can make the café work… ”
“You don’t believe you’re allowed to want more than temporary satisfaction.”
“I don’t have time for a relationship.”
He sighs, and it sounds like it’s coming from the depths of his soul, then he steps back. I miss his proximity and his attention immediately.
“Do you?” I ask, unwilling to be the bad guy. “You work more hours than I do.”
“But I would make time for this, Sylvia. I would give up everything else before surrendering this.” He’s so adamant that I believe him. “It’s about priorities.”
Is the danger of Mike his ability to make me believe that everything is possible?
Just the idea of reaching for something I want, without any guarantees, chills me and I shiver. He grabs another of Merrie’s towels and wraps it around my shoulders, his brows drawn together, then braces his hands on the wall on either side of my shoulders.
“Just sex is what you want. Fair enough.” I open my mouth to argue, but I get another bone-melting kiss instead.
When Mike lifts his head, his eyes are so very blue that I could drown in them.
“But here’s what I want, just for the record.
I want to be with you. I want a future, not just a past or even a present.
I want to start over, with you, and make it work this time. ”
“I’m not sure,” I say and he smiles sadly.
“I know. And I don’t want to be together unless you are. So, you tell me what you want and when you want it, and we’ll work from there.”
“And you?”
He doesn’t answer the question. “Tell me, Sylvia.”
What do I want? I want to be that girl again, the one who believed in fairy tales and forever. I want the crack in my heart to mend. I want to trust him as completely as I did a long time ago. I want to make love like this all the time, every day and every night.
I want it all and I want it from him.
But I’m afraid. Afraid to trust the man who hurt me so badly. Afraid to lose Sierra. Afraid to lose whatever dignity I still have. But that’s not even the worst of it.
I’m afraid that when Mike has to choose, he’ll choose the Cavendishes. He’ll choose the family he was born into, not any family he’s created himself. Patrick Cavendish himself explained it to me and even though I know that Mr. Cavendish is toxic, his words haven’t faded away.
Mike will have to choose one day. His father will make sure of it. I hate his father, because I remember every cruel word he said to me. But his loyal son would never believe me if I told him, and that hurts so much.
I look down at the floor, unable to confess any of that aloud, even when Mike gives me a long steady look.
“It could just be like this,” I say finally and he shakes his head hard before I hear Merrie on the stairs.
Mike hears her, too, because he claims a towel and wraps it around his waist before she appears in the doorway.
Her gaze flicks over him and she pouts, just a little, then she looks at me. “I thought I made it understood that I was to be invited to all orgies.”
“Just the two of us. Not much of a crowd,” Mike says briskly.
She eyes him again, probably noticing his tone. “I’ve got to buy smaller towels.”
He ignores her comment and gestures to the room. “We tried to not make a mess.”
Mike could be a different man than the one who made love to me just moments ago. He’s composed and efficient. Businesslike. I know it’s my fault, but maybe it’s safer this way.
Maybe I’m safer this way, with temptation removed.
“And you didn’t. No noise either.” Merrie sighs as if disappointed but no one smiles. “If you’re hungry, there’s a pair of chickens roasting. Test recipe, to see if I can make them more appealing. I’d appreciate any and all feedback.”
I look at Mike but he’s avoiding my gaze.
“Not tonight. Thanks, Merrie, but I’ll head home.” He barely glances at me before he leaves, every line of his body resolute. He strides back to my studio, clearly in a hurry to get on his way. I know I’ve said the wrong things, but I won’t say the right things just for the sake of convenience.
Merrie folds her arms across her chest and gives me one of her Inquisition looks.
“You heard enough,” I say quietly and she shakes her head. We both look up at the sound of Mike’s keys.
“If you’re going to change your mind, do it soon, Sylvia. Don’t count on him waiting.”
I’m not.
At least I don’t think I am .
She leans closer. “And get ready to see him with other women. It’s going to happen.”
I know she’s right.
By the time I reach the hall, Mike’s gone. There’s just the sound of his footsteps in the restaurant below, then the start of his truck’s engine.
I can’t help feeling that I’ve made a huge mistake, even though I know it’s safer to be without Mike than to believe in happily-ever-after again.