Chapter 3 #2
His frown was ominous as he stared at her. Reaching for the special bath gel that was her signature scent, he squeezed a generous amount on the sponge before returning to her back. "We're not doing that again. What the hell do you mean by that statement?"
"You know."
"Why don't you enlighten me?" he suggested tersely.
She leaned back and took another sip of her wine as he started on her breasts.
"My mother was a junkie whore. I sat there on that swing wondering if God was telling me that I should not have children.
What if I turn out to be a horrible mother?
" She took another sip to quiet the rising agitation in her chest.
"What if I'm like her? She got herself knocked up by one of her johns, and her solution was to leave me at the home. Instead of trying to get clean and make a life for herself and her baby, she went right on doing what she had been doing before. What if I inherited her lack of caring?"
"What if the moon sails right through the window and lands in your bath?" he asked mildly. He knew her well enough to realize that he could not feed her paranoia. They had been down this road several times before and he knew exactly what to say to her.
"You're being ridiculous," she muttered.
"And you're not?" Picking up a heated towel, he wiped his hands before picking up his wine.
"You're the most caring person I know. It still pisses me off that you cannot drive past a homeless person without stopping and offering them some cash or a meal.
No one walks around with cash, except you.
I live in constant terror that someone is going to simply grab you and shove you into some nondescript vehicle and demand a ransom. "
"I'm not helpless," she muttered. "And besides, you started hiring some beefy guy to tail me whenever I'm on the road."
"Someone had to look out for you," he reminded her.
"You're nothing like the woman who gave you birth, nor are you like your grandparents.
" He recalled vividly how excited she had been when she discovered that she had grandparents living only a few miles away.
By the time he had searched for her birth mother, she had already overdosed on heroin, but discovering that she had relatives had softened the devastating blow.
Until she had visited them. They had politely ushered them into their very neat and scrupulously tidy home and offered them refreshments.
They had also recognized her because her face was all over the screen. She was also married to him, and they were always in the papers.
His wife had been painfully eager to be reunited with the people she thought would welcome her with open arms.
It could still anger him the way they had crushed her spirit.
They had proceeded to tell her that they wanted nothing to do with her.
In their polite and colorless voices, they had told her that they had severed ties with their only child and that they were Christian people who wanted nothing to do with her world.
They had not expressed pride or sorrow for what she had endured as a child. They had simply told her that it wouldn't be prudent for her to come around again. They had their lives to live, and that life did not include the sinful lifestyle she had embraced.
Samuel remembered that it had taken a supreme effort on his part not to knock them on their asses.
He had taken his wife's hand and led her out to the car and drove off.
He also recalled that for the entire journey, she had cried bitterly.
His first thought was to buy their scrupulously neat house out from under them and level it to the ground.
They had hurt her, and he wanted to hurt them back for the pain they had caused her.
"You're still angry."
Her voice had him resurfacing from the emotions gripping him.
"A little," he concurred with a grim smile. "Ready to come out?"
"It's getting cold." She rose with his help and waited while he wrapped a towel around her.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
He bundled her up and lifted her into his arms, carrying her into the bedroom and placing her on the bed.
"I think you deserve a little TLC. Any objections?"
"None whatsoever." She was propped up on the mound of pillows, her chest heaving slightly as he proceeded to wipe her down. "It's just that…"
He looked up from his task of toweling her feet. "We've not been in this place in a long time."
She nodded. "And now?" She held her breath as he moved up to her thighs. She was completely naked. Yes, the towel was between them, but she could see the banked fires darkening his eyes, indicating that he was getting aroused.
"And now, I think we should try." His voice had thickened.
Tossing the towel aside, he used his hands to gently massage the supple skin of her thighs, edging dangerously closer and closer to that area that was already throbbing in alarming reaction to his touch. "You asked me if I wanted a divorce."
"You said no." There was a breathy sound to her voice that threw him back to the past, a past where she would cry out his name as she peaked. It was making him as hard as steel.
"And I meant it." He pressed his thumbs into her inner thighs and caused her to jolt. "There's still something between us. It always frustrated me to realize that you have such power over me. No one ever made me react the way you do."
He met her gaze, eyes wandering over her exquisite face.
It was not just her physical beauty, even though Christ knew she had that in spades.
It was her glowing caramel complexion, the shape of her lips, the light that seemed to shine from her.
She was vivacious and full of life, and in spite of her upbringing, there wasn't an ounce of bitterness inside her.
She could still care about people. In his lengthy career as producer, he had seen people rise to the pinnacle and end up treating others like scum.
His wife never did. She fascinated him. She intrigued him in ways he had never been intrigued before.
And even after five years of marriage, he still wanted her with a fierceness that was astonishing.
Rising, he continued to stare at her as he toed off his shoes and then unhooked his belt.
"We-"
"Yes?" He drew the zipper down, the noise sounding very loud in the room.
"I thought you were through with me," she whispered, her eyes drawn to the wide expanse of his chest with its dusting of dark hairs.
"You thought wrong." His trousers followed his sweater. "You're in my blood." Her eyes flew to the bulging evidence of his desire, and she felt her heart quickening.
Lowering himself to the edge of the bed, he took off his socks and tossed them aside before standing again to get rid of the last layer of clothing.
He sprang free in all his glory. Her fingers curled into the sheets as she watched him climb in next to her.
He had a magnificent body, all lean and muscular.
Samuel Copeland might spend most of his time behind a desk or on a producer's chair, but he took excellent care of his body.
Turning her to face him, he skimmed his eyes over her face before reaching up to drag the pins from her hair.
The thick, luxurious strands tumbled through his fingers.
She had so much hair, and his favorite thing to do was to slide his fingers through the strands.
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers slowly.
It had been a while for both of them, and he was going to make it last. She had stirred up emotions inside him that he thought he had buried.
"You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." His voice was thick and unsteady. He could feel the control slipping away. "Still my wife."
Her hands lifted to his chest, causing his flesh to leap reflexively at her touch. Her fingers combed through his hair, relishing the unsteady beat of his heart. She had been dreadfully afraid that she had lost him and was prepared to fight tooth and nail to get him back.
"Your tears undo me." He was murmuring against her mouth.
"You've always been such a strong and independent woman.
Part of the reason that attracted me to you.
" He kissed the sides of her mouth, tongue tracing the crease.
"You're to be admired." He trailed kisses on her cheek before going to nibble on her lobe. "Never forget what you overcame."
"Samuel." She stirred restlessly in his arms, inching closer so that she could feel the impression of his body on hers.
She needed the warmth, something that had been missing for months now.
How could she have survived without his closeness?
Her hands crept up to wrap around his neck.
Her nipples brushed against the hairs on his chest, sending jolts spearing through her body.
Her sexual experiences were few, something that had shocked him to the core.
He had found it difficult to believe that a woman like her had only been with two men.
"That cannot be possible. How the hell is that possible?" he had asked her in harsh disbelief.
"I don't sleep around," she had explained.
And after being with him, experiencing his brand of lovemaking, the passion, the searing heat, and fire, she knew she could never be with another man as long as she lived.
He had shown her what it was to love to her very soul, and there was no turning back for her.
His hands branded her waist as he drew her even closer. His mouth ravaged her neck, her throat, the hollow where the pulse was beating like a maddened thing. He inhaled her scent, the exotic blends of fragrance of her bath as well as her essence. Musky, seductive and completely addictive.