Page 61 of The Husband Diet
He kissed me. Delicately. Tenderly, face-to-face, his eyes searching mine. No one had ever,everkissed me like that. And then he kissed me again, only deeper. A real, real kiss.
My head spinning, I broke away and fanned myself. ‘Whoa. That was, uhm…’
At that, he silenced me with a third kiss.
I could get used to this kind of treatment, I thought as I finally wrapped my arms around his neck like a drowning woman and kissed him back, all barriers down. And boy, let me tell you, it was the sexiest, most erotic moment of my life.
I let my hands roam over his shoulders and back, enjoying the feel of his strong, lean body against mine, more than aware that I was anything but lean myself. I envisaged him kissing me more, his hands slipping under my shirt and touching my roly-poly body. And I instantly stiffened. I had lost weight, but I wasn’t at my best physically yet and probably never would be for him. And if I ever was, it would be time to find myself a toy boy with an expiration date – not my kids’ principal, of whom I couldn’t stop thinking.
‘I think you’d better go now,’ I whispered – before I tore his clothes off and he’d have to reciprocate (out of sheer courtesy). ‘Thanks for everything. Especially for the kisses. Yum.’
‘There’s more where that came from,’ he promised with a grin and a wink as he gathered my hands in his and kissed them one last time.
When he closed the door, I sat back and let out a huge sigh. I’d have to be very careful. I’d already done the falling in love thing and look where it had got me. Sex? Yes please – and lots of it, thank you. Love? Not happening until I touched Italian ground and an Italian family man.
21
In the Lion’s Den
One evening when I got home from work, Ira was on the phone with his Stiletto Girl. He was in the guest room and hadn’t heard me come in, but his low, sexy voice was clear in the silence of the house.
Ira laughed. ‘I know, honey, I know. I can’t wait, either… I miss you, too… I miss that gorgeous body of yours and can’t wait to sleep with you in our very own bed.’
I froze.
‘Who, Erica? She’s probably at work now. All she does is work and stuff her face.’
He hadn’t even noticed all the weight I’d lost. It figured. But I didn’t care anymore. Nothing I ever did for him went noticed. I was done. Finito.
Without a sound, I slipped out of the house, closing the door gently behind me. I walked and walked aimlessly, but my unconscious was working overtime, because after a while I found myself standing before Clifton Street School, precisely under Julian’s illuminated office window. I stood there until the sky turned from dark blue to purple, a golden light still lingering at the fringes above the city. I swung open the gate and sat on a bench – the same bench Julian and I had sat on a million years ago – staring at my swollen, now practically purple feet and finally sinking my head into my shoulders.
It wasn’t long before Julian came out and I could tell he was surprised to see me here, sitting under a lamp post, my shoes on the bench beside me. He strode over to me and before I knew what he was about, he lifted me into his arms in one swift movement.
‘No,’ I said, ashamed. ‘I’m too heavy. Put me down.’
‘Nonsense,’ he whispered and took me to his jeep, placing me in the passenger seat.
I slumped against it, stony-faced and furious with the world. Of all people, he was the last person I’d wanted to see me like this. And yet I’d come here, to him. What did that say about what I really wanted? I was done pretending.
Julian pulled up before a large, elegant house and came round to lift me into his arms again, closing the car door with his hip. I rested my head against his shoulder, absorbing the odd feeling of having him carry me and the sensation of strong, hot male around me. The last time someone had done that I’d been about five and had sprained my ankle. The hero had been my dad. But this time it was Julian, and I enjoyed the guilty pleasure of his body against mine.
I looked into Julian’s face, so close I could smell his familiar scent. I’d smelled him before, in his jeep on the way back from the play, in the darkness of the car, and sitting on the sofa next to me. His scent had imprinted itself in my mind.
I fought the urge to kiss him as he simply smiled at me and I knew I must have been a sight, my eyes puffy and my bun coming undone. Why was I always such a mess around him?
‘What will the neighbors think?’ I whispered, unsure what I meant.
‘That I’m a very lucky man,’ he whispered back, and still none of it made sense.
Once inside, he peeled off my stockings (one was already around my knees) and bathed my feet in some special solution for athletes then dried them gently, his eyes never meeting mine. I watched him, mesmerized, as the blush seeped into his cheeks, his hands shaking, his breath quick. I was an absolute wreck, too, trembling from head to toe.
‘I owe you big time,’ I said breathlessly, caressing his face, unable to stop myself.
He shut his eyes tight for a moment, as if suffering from a major migraine, and turned his face in my hand to kiss my palm.
‘I’m the one who owes you, Erica.’
For what, I didn’t want to know. I reached up and kissed his lips. They were soft but firm and hot. Too hot for a principal’s lips. And what if it turned out that he and I didn’t click? Like Ira. That the minute he saw me naked, it not only took the wind out of his sails, but brought down the mast, as well?
