Trespass (17 page)

For a moment he gave in, deepening the kiss, his mouth hungry and needy, desperate to feel this with her again and believe it had been there before, real all along. Then she touched him, a small, smooth hand on his neck—the tiniest seduction but one that hit Russ like a whip. He pulled away and set a hand on her collarbone, a drawbridge spanning the moat he’d built between them. He stared down at their knees.

“I can’t,” he said. “It’s too soon. Or too ruined. I don’t know…but I can’t. Sorry.”

He looked up as she licked her lips, regret painted all over her pretty face. She stood and took a step away from the couch and table, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I understand. I’m sorry too.”

Russ flinched, her apologies still grating on him for all those reasons he didn’t really understand. He got to his feet, avoiding her eyes. “I should let you get to bed, I guess.”

He sensed her nodding in his periphery. Unsure what else to say, he grabbed a candle and left her be, closing himself in the bathroom. He stared at his reflection as he brushed his teeth, thinking he looked damn tired in the low light, closer to forty than thirty…which was true. But he hadn’t really felt that way until today, after his first taste of new love and romantic excitement had been wrenched away as quickly as it’d come. He turned the tap to rinse his brush, only to realize again that the water was out with the electricity. He abandoned his toothbrush and self-analysis and headed to his room, hoping sleep would come to him quickly tonight.

With the fire still warming the room, Sarah lay down atop the blankets and watched the flames. She heard the bathroom door creak and closed her eyes as Russ exited and shut himself in his room. She wanted to go after him, but she’d overstepped her bounds far too much for one night already. She gave the pillow under her head a good punch, frustrated. Frustrated to have realized how hopeless a dream being with that man was, and frustrated deep in her body too, her selfish curiosities doomed to go unexplored. She imagined him now, changing out of his clothes and settling into his cold bed. If she’d been honest from the start, she might be in there with him, warming his stiff muscles and listening to his breaths quicken, tasting his mouth. She gave the pillow another slug.

Russ got under the bedspread in his chilly room, though he wondered if it might be wiser to stay cold—the discomfort might keep his body from pondering what his brain had just chosen to deny it. She was out there in the warm den, surely on that couch that had been forever changed since her arrival. Before her, merely a piece of inherited furniture, so familiar his eyes passed right over it. Now, practically a living thing, pulsing with memories. Her body, her voice, her hands and mouth on him…

Fuck it. He pushed his shorts down and fisted his cock, tight, as if he were punishing himself. He hated this hand, frankly, hated how lonely this felt after two brief but blissful nights in Nicole’s—in Sarah’s—arms. But he pictured her face, imagined her peeling away her shirt, stepping out of her jeans, pale slender legs against the leather of the couch.

Frustration unbearable, Sarah propped up her knee and slid her hand inside her panties, grazing the pads of her fingers across her clit. She’d feel like crap when this was over, but stung ego or not, she needed it. She wouldn’t get any sleep until she gave herself a facsimile of what she craved. She pictured Russ’s bare body and imagined him kneeling between her legs in his bed…his stiff cock ready and waiting, dying to give her the thing they’d been missing. Sexual pleasure could never fix what she’d done to him, but she wanted that, still—to make the most wonderful man she’d ever met feel good, as cared for and welcome as his very proximity made her feel. She imagined him sliding inside her, surrender written all over his handsome face.

Russ tried to picture how she’d look as he gave in and finally went there with her. They were romantic thoughts at first, images of that expression he was most used to seeing on her in bed. Then other ones crept in, her features full of the harsher things that stood between them…longing and frustration, a sharp edge of distrust. His chest tightened, knowing how it’d feel if this fantasy were real. Some glorious mix of desperation and regret, the sex just as forbidden and ill-advised as it was sweet and pure. The thought got his desire glowing hotter, simmering in the center of his body.

For a man who lived a steady and predictable existence, trusted his gut and followed its advice, Russ wanted to make a terrible mistake, just once. He wanted to go back and redo that kiss from ten minutes earlier, take it as far as she’d let him. He suppressed a moan as his hand sped. He wished his skin was softer, his palm as small as hers. He wished it
was
hers. He tried to mimic the way she’d touched him as he conjured her face, her mouth lowering as she leaned in close…but no. Nothing like a favor. Nothing that kept them on two different levels. He rearranged the fantasy, bringing her naked body right alongside his on the bed, tangling their legs. He stroked himself tight as he imagined pushing inside her.

She remembered how hot his hand had felt that first night they met, his warm palm on her bare skin when he’d tended to her injury and taken care of her. And other parts of him…she relived the memory of touching his cock for the first time, the smooth heat of him, the hard flesh, the shallow pitch of his breathing. But this time, the right name on his lips.

She slid her fingers inside, wishing they were him. Wishing he’d emerge from his room and tell her he’d changed his mind. No,
show
her he’d changed his mind, offer up proof that whatever they shared was stronger than her mistake or his anger. Hell, she’d take the anger. He could take all that out on her, and she’d accept it, eagerly. Russ’s strong, selfish body looming above hers, demanding whatever it wanted. Beautiful. That kind face, tightened with a dozen fiery emotions, and his muscles lit by the waning fire. Enough aggression that she’d never have to apologize again, free to wake up beside him as an equal.

Russ heard his own low moan as the fantasy evolved and shut his mouth. He kicked the covers from his overheated body and welcomed the cool air, wishing for other sensations. Her nails clawing his skin, teeth grazing his shoulder. He pumped his fist and imagined being on top of her…such a dull position normally, but loaded for the two of them, should it ever happen again. She’d made him feel like a man for the first time in years—a male animal. He thought she liked that, liked all those impolite things he’d toned down for Beth. Well he wanted those things now. He wanted the harsh slap of skin on skin as their bodies came together, grasping hands and undignified noises and cursing. He wanted to wrap his fingers in her hair and taste her mouth, deep and rough. He wanted to feel every pound and inch of difference in their sizes, hear it in their voices, feel her soft wetness against his hard cock and feel like a man in the worst way.

She bit her lip to quiet her racing breaths as she imagined Russ giving in and losing himself right on top of her. She’d heard that three times now, the sound of him coming undone. But never inside her. The idea tightened her like a spring. Russ’s face as he lost control of his body and succumbed to its wishes, thrusts fast and frantic—

—her hand on his hip, following the motions, the other on her clit as she chased his pleasure, raced him to the finish—

—that deep voice, deeper than she’d ever heard it, creeping toward crescendo alongside his excitement, her name, her actual name—

“Sarah.”

“Russ.” The whispered syllable came out pained as her body gave in, brain blank but for the memory of his strained face.

“Sarah,” he repeated again, then a last time, once for each spasm as his pleasure peaked and ebbed. Her eyes and mouth faded from his fevered mind and his body cooled. Russ stared into the darkness above his bed, listening to his own heart racing behind the sounds of the dying storm.

A whir, a beep. The power returned, a red 12:00 blinking to life from the bedside table. And just like that, reality intruded. Just like that, the ache returned to Russ’s heart.

Chapter Ten

Sarah woke the next morning at sunrise, frustration still pacing in her chest. She sat up from her tangle of covers as Russ passed by, a cold breeze chasing him from the back door.

“Morning,” she said through a yawn.

He offered a smile then began fiddling with the coffeemaker.

“I heard the power come back on before I fell asleep.”

Russ didn’t reply.

“Want me to make breakfast or anything?”

“That’s all right.”

“Okay.” Looking around the room, she wondered what she’d do to fill her day. She suddenly missed her old routines in Buffalo. She missed running. She’d taken that up in junior high and clung to it as her release valve lest she ever get tempted to reduce her anxiety or get out of her head in any of the awful ways her mother had favored. Or the ways her former friend had, so many of the people she’d once gone to school with. She’d never chosen that route, yet here she was now, still burdened by the consequences of other people’s actions.

She’d been on the run for nearly a month, high on adrenaline, but she still missed running of the meditative variety. Plus here it’d surely be even better, with no errant jerks loitering on the sidewalks, more than happy to toss an unwelcome flirtation her way.

Russ took a seat at the table as the coffee began burbling. He seemed tired this morning, and a bit distant.
Too ruined,
her head echoed.

He could probably use some space from her. The thought filled her with ice. Funny how she’d made a break for it just days ago, but now the thought of leaving terrified her. This place was safe, and she craved that. She was free here in some ways, or freer than she was on the outside, anyhow. Sanctuary. That’s what this was. Still, fine line between a sanctuary and a cell.

“Russ?”

He looked up from his paper. “Mmmm?”

“I’d like to go out today. By myself.”

His expression was tough to read. “Like take the truck out?”

“No. Just for a walk down the road or around the fields or wherever. I haven’t really been alone for a while. And I know you haven’t had a moment’s rest from me, either. I mean, we both remember what happened last time you left me alone, so if you aren’t okay with that yet, I get it.”

He swallowed, unfocused gaze aimed out the window. “No, that’s fine. Any idea when you’ll be back?”

She shrugged. “An hour, maybe?”

He looked back to the page. “Have at it. The dogs will probably try to follow you.”

“That’s fine. I can handle canine company. And I can handle you too, of course, but I wouldn’t mind a little space.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Explanations are the least of what I owe you, Russ.”

His nostrils flared with a deep inhalation, and his eyes rose to settle on hers. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Actually, I owe—”

“Enjoy your walk.”

“Thanks.”

Russ went back to his paper. “There’s a trail around the perimeter of the property. We rode on it for a bit yesterday. It might be overgrown now, but it starts at the far end of the paddock and wraps all the way around, follows the edge of the woods, comes out on the road, maybe a quarter mile that way.” He waved absently toward town.

“Cool. Thanks.”

After a pit stop in the bathroom, Sarah drank a glass of water at the kitchen sink. She changed out of her jeans and into a pair of Russ’s shorts, peeled away her long-sleeved shirt. She folded her clothes and set her wallet on top, in case Russ might appreciate some extra proof she didn’t intend to run off.

He glanced up as she laced her sneakers at the door, taking in the boxers and camisole. “You’re going walking in that? It’s only about fifty-five out.”

“Yeah. I might go for a bit of a jog. I’ll warm up, don’t worry. I’ve had worse in Buffalo.”

“Right. Well, enjoy yourself.”

She cast him a smile she hoped didn’t look as sad as it felt, and exited through the storage and laundry room. She rubbed her goose-bumpy arms against the chill, patting each of the dogs as they trotted up.

“You guys like to run?”

One of them barked—Kit, she thought.

“Great. Let’s see about that path.”

Russ did his level best to not worry while Sarah was gone, but his heart was tight in his chest the entire forty minutes, eyes staring blankly at the local business news, taking nothing in. As the screen door creaked open and he heard her shoes drop onto the porch, he found himself able to breathe again. She pushed the inside door in, face flushed, the hair around her face damp with sweat like the patches of her tank top beneath her arms.

“Well,” he said. “Guess you warmed up just fine after all.”

She nodded and smiled, still huffing faintly. “Yeah. I haven’t been running in weeks, but that wasn’t too bad. The dogs are recovering out back. I think I wore them out.”

“How was the trail? Did you use it?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Sort of wild in places, but pretty clear.” She balanced on one foot and hugged the opposite knee to her chest. “It must be nearly three miles.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Can’t say my legs did the run much justice. I was pretty rusty. Still, it felt good just to move.”

“Good.”

“You um…” She gulped a breath and switched the leg she was stretching. “It’s really beautiful, your home. Your property, I mean. I know I’ve told you that before, but being out there just now… Anyhow, it’s really something else. Thanks for letting me get out for a bit.”

Russ nodded. His wife had carved that path through the grass over the course of a thousand morning walks. It’d grown over since she’d passed, and now a new woman was blazing a trail. Was that Russ’s scab Sarah was ripping off or a wall she was tearing down? Spitting on Beth’s memory or reviving it? Like he had the first clue. What he did know was that she might be running in circles now, but at least she wasn’t running away.

He glanced at her feet then off toward the porch where her flimsy shoes had been left. “What size are your feet?”

“Eight, eight and a half. Depends. Why?”