“Can you stay with me a few hours?” he asked.
“Let me clean up, then I’ll let you know.”
Chapter 3.
He was on the back patio, sock feet on the table, phone pressed to his ear. I watched him, thinking about how much had changed since the last time I watched him on that chaise, talking to Jessica on the phone. I’d left without saying goodbye. How long ago was that? A little over two months? Leaving without saying goodbye again would be unforgivable.
I slid the door, the change in pressure making a clack. He looked up, and when he saw me, he waved me outside. He’d hung up by the time I reached him.
“My lawyer slash sister,” he said, holding out his hand. I took it but sat in the chair, swinging my legs over the arm.
“That sounds awkward.”
He laughed. “You have no idea. And don’t get too comfortable, because she wants to meet you.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Lawyers don’t get weekends. She has no kids or husband, so she works.”
I sighed. I wanted to spend the next hours soothing myself with his body, trying to rub away feeling manipulated and used. My disappointment must have been evident, because Jonathan pulled me up, wrapping his arms around me.
“I owe you. I know,” he said.
“Fine.”
Lil drove. Apparently, we were headed out to Beverly Hills. Traffic was pretty terrible, even for a weekend. Jonathan and I sat in the back seat. I had a leg hitched on the seat so I could face him. He leaned in my direction but faced forward.
“Are you going to wait for your sister to debrief me? And which one is this?”
“This is Margie. She’s the oldest. She’s very straightforward. I think you’ll like her.”
“And she’s going to tell me everything in legalese, because you won’t say a word about getting picked up at the airport and put into a police car while smiling like your Mirandas were a big joke.”
“I was smiling for your benefit.” He took my hand, weaving our fingers together. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I’m worried. Very worried. I was sick to my stomach until the cops came and told me what happened.”
“Which was false.”
“Then I was worried about you and mad at the same time. So, fail. And stop avoiding.”
He leaned his head back and looked out the window.
“Is it bad?” I asked.
“We don’t know. We’ve got radio silence from my ex-wife.” He sat up and faced me. “The prosecutor’s going to want to talk to you.”
“I’ll tell them the same thing I told the cops.”
“I don’t want you to think lying’s going to protect me.”
We just stared at each other for a few seconds, maybe more. It felt like forever and not long enough before I had to break it. He put his fingertips to my cheek, brushing his thumb on my lower lip. His hands were magical, igniting a fire, touching a fuse that ran to the core between my legs by way of my heart.
“I know you have lying in you,” I said.
“My lies are all white.”
“Flake white.”
“The brightest, most guilt-free of the whites.”
“And the one so toxic it’s illegal.”
A smile curled one side of his mouth. “I’m not lying about Jessica or about anything that matters.”
“Who decides what matters?”
His hand slid off my throat and down my chest, resting on my sternum. “You matter. We matter. I haven’t touched another woman since I had you at the Loft Club. Monica, it’s you. Being with you is all I can think about. It’s all I want. We are bound. I can’t be unfaithful to you any more than the sky can be unfaithful to the sea.”
“Nice words.”
“Your ni**les are hard.” He brushed them with the backs of his fingers. “Your body won’t deny what your mind fights.”
“If I decide to believe you, understand I know there are things you’ve lied about.”
“Such as?” He drew a nail over my nipple, the fabric like Teflon, letting it slide across. My lips parted.
“I don’t believe Kevin got picked up just because,” I said.
He pinched my nipple hard, giving a little twist. My back arched.
“Who cares?” he whispered.
“I do. About the truth.”
He put his hand under my skirt. I was a little sore from the hate f**k in his living room, but my wet lips fluttered under his touch.
“Open your legs.”
I did, and he hitched up my dress until it gathered just under my br**sts. He placed my heels on the seat until my underwear was the only thing between me and his eyes.
“The truth, Monica,” he said, putting his thumb lightly on my clit, using my juices to slide over the skin. “The truth is that I love you. The rest is unnecessary complication.”
“I disagree.” But I was lost. It didn’t matter if I agreed or not. I wanted some part of his body to rub against me. He flicked my engorged clit, and my breath hitched with the pain and pleasure.
“You won’t.” He took a small box from his pocket, opened it, and plucked my diamond navel bar from its velvet bed. He kissed between my legs, over my underwear, breathing on my clit to make it warm and receptive. His lips traveled to my naked navel, which he kissed gently. “You belong to me. That means I take care of you. Your body and your heart.” He slid the navel bar through the piercing. “That means I’m committed to your happiness. And it means there is no other woman.” He slid the smaller diamond cap on top, sealing the gem to me. “I don’t share. And you don’t have to either. You have to trust me.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s a choice. Make it.” He slid to his knees before me and slipped his fingers under my panties. I lifted my butt, and he pulled them off. His tongue ran from my knee to my thigh. When his tongue found my folds, I thought I’d burst.
“Oh...” I put my fingers in his hair.
He looked up and said, “Hands under your ass.”
I sat on them.
“Keep these legs open.”
The commands turned me on, sending another wave of pleasure through me. By the time his tongue found my clit, I was non-verbal. He licked so gently, flicking it, then circling my hole, making sure every inch of me was on high alert. A little suck, a flick with his fingers. Sweet, exquisite torture. He slid those flicking fingers in me, then sucked my clit again.