Page 24 of Vipers & Roses

“I’m sorry?” I’m acting dumb for the slightest chance that she didn’t see my performance.

She purses her lips, then runs a little finger across her bottom lip, still looking in the mirror and reminding me of Elizabeth Taylor. “You were staring at my husband,” she says, shooting poisonous darts from her eyeballs. Some wives will fight for their husbands, even when they majorly stuff and humiliate them. Even though I admire her steadfast loyalty, he’s not the man she thinks he is.

“Um, no,” I answer vaguely, avoiding her eye in case she could read my mind. “I don’t know your husband.”

She turns around and leans against the bench to look at me in real-time, not via the mirror. “You were staring at my husband while holding your fingers to your head like this,” she states, copying what I did.

“Oh, that had nothing to do with your husband. I was mucking around with guys on my table,” I explain.

She grunts unconvinced, turns on her red heels, and swiftly leaves the bathroom.

“Jeez, that was intense,” I mutter as I pat cold water on my hot cheeks. Imagine living your life that way, where every time your husband leaves the house, you suspect him of cheating. But when it comes to her husband, the chances of him trying to cheat are probably high, but it’s the least of her problems. Raping girls is a different story altogether.

I swing the bathroom door open and startle at the sight of Cormac leaning against the opposite corridor wall, arms folded across his chest.

“Did you think I was going to escape out the window?” I exclaim as my heart starts to cool, yet suspicion rises. I’ve never been a fan of obsessive, controlling men, even the men who look like they just stepped off the cover of GQ magazine.

That severity behind his eyes burns across my skin, my instincts informing me that things are not what they seem. He glances down the corridor toward the bright lights of the dining hall, and when he looks back at me, the darkness has gone, replaced by smiling eyes even though his mouth remains tight. “Payback,” he answers simply.

“Payback?” I enquire, “for what?”

“Since I took so long on my phone call, I thought you might take revenge on me by deliberately taking your time,” he explains evenly.

I can’t help but smile. “Oh yes, the womanly way, but I’m not naturally revengeful.” This is true. I’m not naturally vindictive, so I must sweep aside my ‘old’ personality to make way for the new.

“Aren’t you?” he asks, stepping towards me and running his hand down my tanned, bare arm. I stifle my instincts to recoil from his touch, not because I hate it but because a single touch can lead me somewhere I’m not ready to go yet. But he won’t understand this, nor will he care.

“Are you calling me a liar?” I ask playfully as he moves in closer again, and I swallow over a lump in my throat.

His large hand found my cheek and ran the back of his fist down my skin, stopping at a golden ringlet that he took between his fingers. As he twirls that golden ringlet around his finger, those sky blues run all over my lips, eyes, nose, and forehead.

I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me, but fear is a driving divider here.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he breathes close to my face, releasing my hair from his finger. “Avoiding my head from being bitten off is paramount.” He’s referring to the female mantis who bites off her mate’s head as they’re mating, so does that mean he’s hoping we’ll mate, too?

“Sure, I guess you can’t swim without a head,” I swallow back my fear. He smells so good, and the heat rolling off that towering body stirs my desires as my upper thighs quiver. That feeling of fullness and elation when a man is inside me is something I’ve missed. Warm hands caressing my naked body, moist, wet tongue traveling over my skin, burning me, yet images invade my mind, taking me back to the day The Four held me captive for hours. Everything returns to that day. Even now, images shuffle behind my eyes, and a battle takes place inside me. The hunger to sink into the bliss of this man before me versus the fear of ‘what if it hurts?’ What if it hurts so bad I never want to go near another man again?

Those sky blues of his watch me closely as he leans forward and is about to press his lips against mine when a phone rings, and I startle, propelling backward away from him.

Cormac looked bewildered, wondering why my reaction was so exaggerated, before he took the phone from his pocket and answered it.

He turns away from me as he grunts a couple of words down the line before swiping off. “I have to go,” he says, disappointed.

“Really? You invited me here, and now you will abandon me?” I’m shocked and relieved that this night has been cut short because I can now escape to my tiny apartment with my tomato plant, pineapple experiment, and spider to watch mindless Netflix garbage.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Rae,” he states with genuine anguish as if he’s hoping he has ruined it between us. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“No,” I answer sharply, “I’m traveling out of town to visit my parents. What’s your emergency anyway that you have to leave?”

“Something went down with my father,” he shrugs those broad shoulders. “Family stuff. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, sure, I do,” I say, unconvinced by his excuse, although I feel an ounce of sympathy for him as he shuffles on those large feet. He needs to go versus wants to stay. It looks like he’s a duty-bound man who will choose his family over his golden-haired date.

“Anyway,” he leans forward quickly before I have a chance to react and kisses my cheek. As he lifts his eyes, he holds his stare, penetrating my soul, and leans in again to plant those lips against mine. It's the first kiss in two years, and it feels…right…nice. Very nice. I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands run smoothly around my waist, and he tilts his head to the side and slips his warm tongue inside my mouth.

A soft moan escapes my mouth as his tongue dances with mine in a tango, then a waltz as his crotch rams hard against me. So far, so good.

He makes an anguished grunt and breaks the kiss, but still holding me close. “I’m so sorry, Rae, I have to go,” he whispers.

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