Page 26 of Letters From Victor

I claimed her mouth again, nipping and sucking on her lower lip, eliciting a series of soft pants and moans as I stroked myfingers back and forth over the thin fabric. She was so wet. Practically dripping. Ready.

I pressed her thighs apart with my knees and fingered the band of her undergarments. My groin ached, pulsing hard against my trousers. I wanted nothing more than to give in to desire and have my way with her, to completely ravish her.

But a small voice of reason broke through the haze of lust. As much as I craved Barbara, I couldn’t exploit her vulnerability. She deserved more than a sordid tryst on the floor of my studio.

It took every ounce of willpower I had, but I pulled my hands away, chest heaving, as I pushed up to my knees.

She grasped at my shirt as I moved away. “Don’t go…”

I smiled gently as I took her hands and helped her sit up. She looked so unguarded, so desirable with her disheveled hair and swollen lips. “I’m not going anywhere. But this can’t happen. Not like this.” I tucked an errant blonde curl behind her ear.

Confusion and hurt flashed across her face. “Why?” she whispered. “Don’t you want me?”

“Oh, God, yes.” I groaned as I cupped her face in my hands. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Ever.” I pressed an urgent kiss to her soft lips. “But not like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small. Tears welled in her eyes. “You must think I’m?—”

“No, no, my darling.” I tilted her chin up to meet my gaze. “Don’t apologize.” I wiped away twin streams of tears from her cheeks. “Not to me. Not ever.”

Sitting beside her, I pulled her into an embrace, and she melted against me, her head nestled perfectly under my chin. I held her close, breathing in the sweet floral scent of her flaxen hair.

“You’re not a conquest, Barbara. You’re not some cheap broad, and I won’t treat you like one.” I kissed her hair. “You’re a lady, and you deserve far better than a few frantic moments onthe floor.” I tipped her head back so she’d look up at me. Her blue eyes shone like the ocean. “When we come together, I want to worship every inch of you slowly, tenderly. To give you the pleasure you’ve been denied for so long.” I leaned down to kiss her lips. “To treat you like the goddess you are.”

Barbara sipped from a bottle of soda pop, her lips wrapped delicately around the striped straw. Golden afternoon sunlight streamed in through the passenger window, gilding her profile. Damn, she was a vision.

“Your turn,” she said, breaking the silence.

“My turn for what?” I kept my hands firm on the wheel.

“Well, you asked me about Frank on the drive out here. It’s only fair that you tell me about your wife on our way back.”

I tensed. Dorothy was the last thing I wanted to talk about. “What do you want to know?” I asked carefully.

“How did you meet? When did you get married?” She hesitated. “What went wrong?”

I pressed my back into the leather seat, silent as I downshifted into a curve on the highway.

“You don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to,” she said gently.

I exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the road. “No, it’s all right. Dorothy and I… Things haven’t been right for a long time.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “We met in college at USC. I was finishing up a degree in business, and she was studying English. She was pretty, sweet—easy on the eyes, and easy company.” I let out a long breath. “I had just graduated when the war broke out. I answered the call and joined up, and we got married in a hurrylike so many young couples did in those days. Looking back, it was madness, but it made sense at the time.”

“Then what happened?”

“The war changed everything. When I got back, I was a different man. I’d seen and done things I hoped never to speak of again. Dorothy didn’t understand. She wanted her college sweetheart back.” I shook my head. “But that man was long gone.”

“And then Margaret came along.”

I winced internally and glanced at Barbara. “You have a good memory.”

She smiled but said nothing.

“Dotty got pregnant almost right away, and Margaret was born while I was overseas. She was two—almost three—when I finally met her.” I smiled sadly as memories of holding my daughter for the first time washed over me. “Margaret was my one bright thing in those dark post-war days. I adored her from the moment I laid eyes on her. She was the only innocent, pure thing left in my world.” I gripped the wheel tighter. “Dotty and I quickly realized we had nothing in common anymore. The sweet, carefree girl I had married was gone—replaced by a bitter, resentful woman. And I…”

Barbara placed her hand gently on my arm. “You don’t have to say any more, Victor. I think I understand.”

I looked over at her—this angelic blonde in my passenger seat. “You’re easy to talk to, you know that?”

She smiled, dipping her head, as if that would hide the flush in her cheeks from me.

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