Surrender (5 page)

“How about ‘get real sweetheart, this has always been about sex,’” I give him a challenging glare, “or ‘you’re a liar as well as a fool.’” I snort dismissively, “I’d say you’ve said enough.”

He flinches, the expression almost imperceptible and very fleeting. Straightening slowly, he moves away from me. “We need to talk Sophie,” He says slowly, “I know you don’t want to see me, but I’m sure you can bear just one evening.”

If only he knew, I think as I shut down my computer and put on my jacket over my t-shirt, before following him outside. On the curb, Steve is standing by the black jaguar waiting for us. The familiarity of the whole scenario makes my heart ache.

Steve pulls the car door open for me. I smile at him, resisting the urge to tear up. “How are you Steve?”

His smile is warm as he replies. “Fine. Mrs. Preston.”

How long had it been since someone called me that? So long that I’d almost forgotten how it sounded. I swallow my reaction. “It’s nice to see you again.” I say before I step into the car.

Once inside, I deliberately don’t look at David. The car starts to move, and I struggle to conquer the tension gripping me as we sit side by side. He’s so close, too close. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his hands spread out on his thighs, palms facing downwards, his long, graceful fingers tapping a silent rhythm.

His face is turned away from me, looking out of the windows. I allow myself the luxury of looking at him, letting my eyes drift from his smooth brow to the shadowed hollows of his cheeks, and to the lips I’m dying to kiss again. I’ve missed looking at him. I’ve missed touching him. I’ve missed so many things. I’m so aware of him I can’t focus on anything else.

My whole consciousness is fixed on the fact that he’s right there beside me. That if I reach out, I can touch him, the way my fingers are aching to.

I sigh. It feels so familiar to be here with him. If I close my eyes I can easily imagine that things are back the way they were and that we’re on our way to the apartment where he’ll carry me to the bedroom, slowly undress me and make sweet love to me until my body is totally sated.

My body, but not my heart.

I force myself to stop looking at him. It’s no use getting caught up in my feelings when they mean nothing to him. Steve soon pulls up in front of a glass-fronted restaurant with a wide awning over the sidewalk.

Stepping out of the car, I wait as David comes around the back to join me, and I catch myself admiring his beautiful body, shown to perfection in his tailored suit. As I watch, I realize that he’s stretching out an arm and that he’s going to put it around me, as if we’re a regular couple, as if we haven’t been apart for months. I stiffen, my stomach knotting tightly. There’s no knowing how my body will react to his touch, and I’m not eager to make a fool of myself again, where he’s concerned.

He must have seen something in my expression, because he pauses, cocking an eyebrow, as a dry smile curves his lips. He drops his hand and smiles wryly. “Shall we?” He says, gesturing towards the doors.

I follow him, silently wondering how I’m going to fit in an elegant restaurant with my jeans and ‘Welcome to Empathy Zone t-shirt’. David however, doesn’t seem to care. Once inside, the manager leads us through the main dining area to a curved stairway that leads to a private dining area upstairs. There’s only one table for two, and a set of wide windows that look out to a small park. It’s cozy and intimate, a room for a couple in love and eager for a romantic dinner alone. It’s definitely not the sort of place where I should be alone with David.

The manager pulls out my chair, and I sit, listening with half an ear as he and David discuss wine. After he leaves, David turns his full attention to me.

“I hope you don’t mind my picking this place,” he says, looking at me intently. “I know it’s a little… intimate, but I thought we should have some privacy.”

I shrug, schooling my face into a false expression of nonchalance. “I can’t imagine why.”

He lifts an eyebrow, then smiles patiently and leans back in his chair. “Because, as I said, we need to talk, and I’d rather not do that in a roomful of people.”

“You must have been confident that I would agree to come with you,” I observe, “reserving this place beforehand.”

“I wouldn’t say anything about confidence” He chuckles. “But I certainly hoped you would come.”

I swallow and keep silent as I pick up a menu from the table, gazing halfheartedly at the options available. From under my lashes, I can see David doing the same. Finally, he presses a button on the table, and immediately a door opens and a waiter comes in to take our order.

We’re both silent. The wine arrives, but I only take a sip of the mellow liquid, intent on keeping my senses about me while I’m in the same room with David. He looks relaxed, as if he has no care in the world. I’m far from relaxed, being so close to him is making me nervous.

“You said you wanted to talk.” I say finally, breaking the silence.

“Yes.” He nods. “But that can wait.” He smiles at me, but I’m not deceived by the appearance of friendliness. He is dangerous to me, and I should be on my guard. “Tell me about you,” he urges good-naturedly. “What you’ve been doing… work and all.”

“You already know everything that’s been going on in my life.” I say, “You knew where I worked without asking me, you know where I live, and I’ll bet you know everything I’ve done in the past two months.”

He shrugs carelessly, and I know I’m right.

I sigh. “I really don’t want the money David.”

“We’ll talk about that.” He says firmly. There’s a small hesitation before he speaks again. “There’ll have to be at least some sort of settlement you’re comfortable with.”

Settlement. That word again.

I study his face, trying to read his expression, but as usual, there’s nothing there. A knot of dread forms in my stomach. He wants to talk about a settlement, a permanent arrangement that will signify the reality of our separation and the beginning of a divorce.

I should welcome it, I think. The money aside, I should welcome a divorce, a chance to start again, but the idea fills me with anguish. I won’t be able to bear it.

Get a hold of yourself Sophie, I tell myself as I take another sip of my wine. A divorce will hurt. It will break my heart all over again, but pain does not kill, and it won’t kill me.

Pain does not kill.

Our food arrives, but I can hardly eat. My stomach is in knots as I wait for David to say something. Finally, he summons a waiter to clear the dishes and then it’s just both of us again.

I close my eyes, waiting.

“Sophie.” He starts, saying my name softly, almost as if he’s not actually calling me, but saying it just to feel it on his lips, like a prayer. I force myself to look up at him.

“You said something about a settlement,” I say, the words thick in my throat. “If you want a divorce, just give me the papers.” I force my voice to be steady. “I’ll sign them.”

He looks taken aback, almost shaken, as his brow creases in a frown. For a long moment, he is silent. I realize that I’m gripping the edge of the table.

When he speaks, there’s an edge to his voice. “Is that what you want?” He mutters, “A divorce?”

I should say yes. How can I let go of the past if I don’t break the only thing still holding me captive to it? Yet I know that being married to David is not the only thing holding me captive to the past. A thousand divorces won’t change the way I feel about him.

I look away from him, avoiding his question and the intensity of his gaze. I don’t want to see the desire in his eyes. I don’t want to hope, when hope will only lead to pain. “Isn’t that what you want?” I whisper.

I feel, rather than see him lean forward. “No.” He says intently. I look up at him, and the earnest expression on his face almost kills me. “I don’t want a divorce, Sophie. I want you.”

My heart starts to pound again. I close my eyes and let the words wash over me, letting out a shaky breath as I try to control the emotions rioting in my blood. How is it possible to feel such joy and such pain at the same time? All the feelings I’ve managed to keep at bay for months rise swiftly to the surface.

“I’ve tried to give you some space,” He continues, his eyes on my face burning and almost wild, “I was still trying this morning, Sophie, because I thought that was what you wanted… needed.” He lets out a breath. “Well I’m done trying.” He says, his voice firm and determined as those blue eyes burn a hole through me. “I want you Sophie, and I want you back.”

Please don’t do this, I say silently, opening my eyes. He’s still looking at me, waiting for me to say something. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him. I want to tell him how thinking of him keeps me awake at night, how he haunts all my thoughts and my dreams. I want to tell him that I love him.

But what would be the point?

“You want me back in your bed,” I say softly, “That’s the only place where I ever meant anything to you.”

His jaw clenches visibly. “You’re wrong.” He says.

“Am I?” I counter, “I don’t think so. You spent our marriage living a life you never shared with me, flirting with you ex-girlfriend….” My voice catches in my throat as the memory of him and Carole kissing on the hotel terrace tears at my heart. “You never shared anything about yourself, your work… What we have isn’t a marriage, it’s a one night stand gone on too long.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “And what would you know about one night stands Sophie?” he says, his voice a sardonic lash. “You want to know about me? Maybe I should write a damn autobiography starting from the day I was born. Would that make you happy?” He doesn’t wait for a response before going on. “You want to know about what I do? Maybe you’d like to join me at the office every day, or would weekly reports be fine for you?”

I recoil from the sting of his words. “It wouldn’t.” I say frankly, “Nothing you do would make me happy.”

He swallows, then leans back and runs a hand through his hair, messing his already tousled locks. “That’s not true.” He says.

I stare at him. My eyes going from his beautiful face to the powerful body barely curbed in his tailored suit. No, it’s not true, I admit to myself. He could make me happy. He could make me happy if he loved me.

“You don’t love me.” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, confirming the truth of my words by his silence.

I draw in a sharp breath. Of course, he doesn’t love me. What did I expect? That he came to find me because he’d realized in my absence that he couldn’t live without me?

“Isn’t enough that I can’t stop thinking about you Sophie?” he says, his voice low and persuasive. “What else do you want from me?”

Love, but that’s always been too much.

“Nothing, David. I don’t want anything from you.” I get up and pick up my bag, making for the door, and my escape from the temptation that he is.

He springs up after me, his movements fast, yet undeniably graceful. “Sophie.” He says, making me stop. “Please wait.”

What’s the distance between wanting and love? I think as I turn around. How can he claim to want me so much and yet find it so impossible to love me?

He was standing right behind me, so that when I turn, I’m directly facing him, and our bodies are only inches apart. I look up at his face. Somehow, I know he won’t move closer unless I ask him to, even though the desire I can see in his eyes is so intense, I can feel it burning through my skin, heating my blood.

Suddenly, I know I don’t want to go. I know I’ll succumb to the desire that’s been building up since I laid my eyes on him. I barely notice as my bag hits the floor. The only thing that matters is the anticipation coursing through me as I reach up and pull his face towards mine.

Chapter Four

I’M ON FIRE, FALLING APART, trembling, and so hungry for him. His lips move over mine, and I moan softly, inviting his tongue to delve deeper into my mouth. He groans, and his arms encircle me, so strong and muscular as they pull me to him, molding my body tightly against his. He feels so familiar, and yet so different, hungrier, his body claiming control of mine with more urgency than I remember.

I press my aching body tighter against him, losing the last remnants of my self-control and offering myself to him. I pull at his clothes, all the while moaning my wild and uncontrollable need. I’m helpless against the longing, the desire, the feeling of exultation that fills my chest as his warm body presses against mine, the hard evidence of his arousal stiff against my thighs.

I don’t care where we are. I don’t care about the voice of reason in my head, telling me I’ll regret this. All I care about is being closer to his raw heat. I want him to give my body the satisfaction only he knows how to give me. I don’t care about what comes after. All that matters is now, the heat in my belly, the fire in my blood, the warm pool of desire gathering between my legs.

His hands are under my t-shirt, moving slowly over my heated skin. I groan as they move up to cup my breasts, finding my aching nipples through my bra.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed this?” He whispers huskily. “Do you have any idea how crazy you’ve been driving me?”

I can’t find the words to tell him how much I’ve missed his touch. My eyes find his, and I beg him silently not to stop. As if he can hear my thoughts, he starts to knead my breasts while teasing my nipples with his thumbs. Desire throbs insistently between my legs. I’ve wanted him for too long. I want him now.

He claims my lips again, his tongue teasing mine boldly. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him, stroking his rigid arousal through the fabric of his trousers. I hear him groan harshly as he grows even harder against my fingers.

Suddenly his hands leave my breasts and find the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I help him, eager to return to touching him. He undoes my jeans and pulls them down, going down on his knees to pull them off totally. Once they’re gone, his hands cup my butt and pull me close to him while he’s still on his knees. I gasp when I feel his lips on me, warm through the lace of my panties, nuzzling and kissing me. It’s so blatantly erotic my knees buckle, and only his firm hands keep me upright. I push closer to his delicious lips, grinding against him as warm, pulsing heat floods between my legs.