Searching Hearts Page 3

  I haven’t kissed anyone besides Jack in over twelve years. Marriage plus courtship. And it never – and I mean never – felt like this. My heart is pounding. My starved-for-attention body is dripping with desire. I’ve never cheated on Jack. Until I make it really clear that we are over, this is cheating. I can’t cheat – I’m not a cheater. My best friend Noelle’s husband cheated on her and she nearly ate all of Arizona while simultaneously hanging herself with a metaphoric rope of cork from all the wine bottles she’d sucked dry.

  I am not a cheater. I’m just not. I can’t be. Shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT.

  Wrapping my arms tightly around me, I stumble on a chunk of rock I didn’t see. “Ooh.”

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I sneak a peek at him. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.” His beautiful eyebrows are knit together…and I want to kiss the temporary little lines.

  A sharp angle to the right and I’m almost to my cottage. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Rebecca…” His voice pulls at me with sweet longing.

  He’s so young; so new, fresh and un-jaded. He embodies all of what I want for myself. I want to feel hopeful about life again. Young in mind if I can’t be younger in body. I head toward middle age with unacceptable speed. I don’t want to feel like it’s over!

  I spin around. “I’m not fine.”

  “How can I help?”

  A huff of air escapes my lungs and I look everywhere around me. “I want you to help me. I want you…”

  “I want you, too. Is there any reason we can’t?”

  My mind races. I want to say that I’m newly separated… as in yesterday! I want to tell him that he scares me! I want to confess that I haven’t kissed anyone besides my husband since Brendan was probably in grade school! But instead I whisper a lie. “No. There’s no reason.”

  He smiles and my heart fills with steam, looking at it. “You probably just want someplace more private than a tree?”

  I laugh. I loved the tree! The tree wasn’t the problem. Biting my lip, I shake my head and grin at him. “Would you like to see my cottage?”

  “I’d like to see more than just your cottage.” He flashes a sexy grin.

  Nervously, I turn. “Follow me.”

  He walks a few steps behind me and I can feel my ass heating up under his appreciative stare. I walk up the porch, sliding the key out of my bag, but I never get the chance to use it. Because the door opens, and there, looking at me with red, tired eyes and crumpled airplane/rental car clothing, is my husband.

  An emotional storm waves through me, rendering me able to utter only one terrified word. “Jack!”

  “Surprised?” he asks, smiling weakly. Brendan keeps walking as though we don’t know each other. Behind me I hear his footsteps continuing on to his own cottage.

  My heart goes with him, as I stare at my husband. “Very! What are you doing here?”

  “I made the reservation for this place. It’s our anniversary, remember?” His forced smile hurts me. Did Brendan hear him say anniversary? I look right and see Brendan pause before he disappears into his cottage. He heard.

  I walk past my husband and close the door. We don’t hug. Men are like dogs – he’d smell young man meat lingering on my mouth and would know what I’ve been doing.

  “When you didn’t answer your phone and I couldn’t find you, even called Noelle, I figured you had to have come here.”

  My mind is spinning so badly. I’m only half listening. I’m only capable of making two sounds. “Uh-huh.” Brendan’s arms. The smell of his shampoo…I walk into the tiny cottage kitchen. Stand with my back to the counter, my hands gripping onto it as I face out so I can stare at my husband and try to focus.

  “I can’t believe you flew out here on your own.” He laughs like he didn’t think I had it in me. This breaks through. Familiar. Angry. Done.

  “You act as though I can’t do anything on my own, Jack.”

  He blinks. His eyes flash annoyance. It’s back on. “I never said that. It’s just you don’t really do anything without me and I…”

  “That’s just it! I don’t. I’ve let you dictate my whole life for the last ten years!” My hands are tightly gripped on the counter for support.

  He holds his hand to his forehead like it hurts. “What? What are you talking about? We’ve had a great marriage, Bec.”

  “It’s been great for you. It hasn’t been great for me.”

  “Wait wait wait now. You just said it yourself. You let me dictate your life – you let me. I didn’t ask you to stop working. I didn’t ask you to follow me around like a puppy dog without any opinions of your own!”

  That hits way too close to home for me not to blow my top. “A PUPPY DOG!!! I would have had opinions – JACK – if you wouldn’t have been so damned domineering.” My feet carry me quickly into the little bedroom where the romantically lit, fire-burning stove mocks me. “Oh shut up!” I yell at it.

  “Hey! We don’t say shut up – remember?”

  I sink onto the bed. “I’m sorry.” That was my rule: never swear at each other, tell each other to shut up, or go to bed angry. Slippery slopes to a nasty marriage. I don’t tell him that I was talking to the stove. He wouldn’t get it and then I’d feel like an idiot for explaining. And explaining. And explaining.

  I don’t want to explain anymore.

  “What’s going on, Bec?” He’s staring at me.

  The answer is very simple and very sad. “It’s over, Jack. It’s just over.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.” He stares off into an uncertain future, resting on the doorframe. All I can see are his white sneakers and the ring on his finger. I asked for stable. I asked for what I got, but I was wrong. It’s not enough and I am going to die someday. I want to live. I want to be on my own and travel the world. I want to know what it feels like to go to another country and not know where my hotel is, and find my own way there. I want to be independent (and have lovers on the side).

  “I need to find out who I am without being defined by my husband and what he wants,” I say, quietly.

  His eyes, so familiar to me, lock on mine and tear up. “I don’t know why you can’t do that with me.”

  “History has shown I can’t, hasn’t it?”

  He nods and pushes off to walk into the living room. I sit and listen to him make his way to the door. Jumping up, I run after him. “Are you leaving?”

  With his hand on the doorknob, his body facing away, he mumbles, “Yeah.” He looks over his shoulder and I see tears on his cheeks. “I’ll drive up the coast and find somewhere else to stay. I need some time to think.”

  “Okay.”

  A deep crease of pain clouds his brow. “I’ll see you back home.”

  “No. You won’t. Goodbye, Jack.” I turn and disappear into the bedroom, resting my head against the cool, wood wall as I listen to the door close on a chapter of my life. My heart pounds like a ticking clock as I listen to him leave.

  He’s gone. It’s over. I’m free.

  I breathe. Out cobwebs, in fresh air. Out confinement, in liberty. Out security, in adventure. But then the door opens again and frustration pours cold water over my heart. I don’t want to explain anymore – just go already! I whip out of the bedroom, ready to fight for a life I know I need.

  “Brendan!” Brendan closes the door, the door latching with a slow thunk.

  “You’re married?” His jaw is tight. Eyes firm. “Was that your husband?” He pushes his hands into his jeans, biceps tensing. “I watched him drive away.”

  I can’t speak when he looks at me like this. I walk to him and silently nod.

  “He drives a Prius.”

  My eyebrows fly up and before I realize I’m even talking, my thoughts are voiced. “He even rented one of those things?”

  Brendan’s lips twist into a sexy smirk, and for the first time the sardonic thing he’s been trying at, becomes real. Him seeing my husband, k
nowing I hadn’t told him I was married, that shifted something inside of him. Looking back at me are no longer the eyes of a boy. His innocence that had hung by a heartstring has broken away and vanished, but I don’t know that. I just see pain.

  He opens the door and walks out.

  15

  Brendan

  Pacing in Cottage 2. Pacing and pacing and pacing.

  ______________________

  I’m done with women. They’re all cheating liars. They all want you to let your guard down so they can walk all over you and act like it’s nothing. You open the doors, you pay the tab, you walk on the outside of the sidewalk so they’re protected. You send them flowers. You compliment them. You do anything to hear them laugh. You melt under their smiles. You bend to their tears because your manhood demands it.

  You fall for their games.

  And they give you nothing back.

  Nothing.

  Which means only one thing to me. You have to take it. I don’t mean you have to take it like a man. You have to take it. Take everything you can, because no one is going to give it to you, and your happiness is the only thing that’s important. I will never let a woman get under my skin again.

  A small tap comes from my front door. It’s her. I know it’s her. Here to apologize and talk. Fuck that.

  A door has never been opened this fast. I look to see if she’s alone, reach out and scoop her into my arms, slamming the door closed and pushing her up on it. My mouth mashes into hers searching to see if she kissed him. I taste only her so at least she came to my door unsullied. I feel wetness on my cheeks and know that she is crying. I don’t care. No talking. No sorry. Just skin against skin - everything else forgotten. I let go of her kisses long enough to pull the interfering cotton dress over her head and throw it away. She moans against my lips as she pulls off my shirt, touching my chest like a blind woman reading a book. Her leg locks around my hips and I grind against her, making a mess of her flimsy cream-colored panties. I growl as her nails dig into my back like sexy, sharp needles igniting a new addiction. “I can’t…” she moans.

  “But you will anyway,” I say, watching her pull impatiently at my zipper.

  “Yes. I will.” She pushes hard and slams me against the wall next to us, taking control. I didn’t see this coming. Tugging my jeans down, she kneels and touches me as I lean my head back and close my eyes. A deep guttural moan from me excites her as she wraps her lips around the tip of me, licking and making me cry out as she takes me all in. Sara didn’t know how to touch me like this. Rebecca – wild cat unleashed – wraps her fingers around the base, her mouth envelops me to tease and suck.

  I am her mouth’s slave. All of my choices are stripped away. There is only this. Only this. I have never felt this kind of experienced skill. As I crumble into a ball of grunts and thank you’s under her teasing tongue – the truth that I’ve never been with a woman before now is as obvious to me as if Einstein himself walked up and said, “By the way, you’ve never had your cock sucked right, until today.” Thanks Einy. I’m not an idiot. I know that now.

  I can’t stop her. Looking down, the pressure builds to making me near unconscious as I lock eyes with her. She’s looking up at me. Her eyes are like a beautiful animal’s, drinking in what they see like they haven’t had water in years. Oh God. The vibrations that shake my body are unreal. I touch her head, my legs bending at the knees. Rocking into her mouth – I’m too excited. I’m too gone. I let it all go. I yell out again and again as she moans, taking all of my juices into her mouth. I’ve never heard myself whimper – but I’m whimpering now. Down to the ground I go the moment her lips release me. We’re both panting.

  I see only stars behind closed, grateful eyelids.

  16

  Rebecca

  I’m a new me and It’s a whole new world.

  ______________________

  He’s naked and glistening all over, eyes closed, kissable mouth open, gasping for breath. I have done this to him. I have devoured him and showed him what an older woman knows how to do. Bring it on, college co-eds – I’ve got you all beat.

  I was always good at feeling what a man’s ride feels like, which means I can control and guide it. My soon-to-be-ex-husband always said that if I could go down on Congress, there would be no more animosity between parties. Everyone would happily agree to everything I wanted; the world would be a better place. It always made me laugh, but secretly, I loved hearing it.

  I so often think I have no power in my life. And not that blowing a guy is the only place I have it – that’s a ridiculous notion – but it’s that it makes me feel like I’m the one with the steering wheel in a very tangible way. Come along for my ride. I don’t know how some women don’t like it. I fucking love it.

  Blue flashes of light glance to me… the beast is awake.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Hey,” he smiles, shaking his head. “What the fuck was that?”

  I grin and squeeze my shoulders up, giving them again to gravity. I’m about to say something, but he lunges for me and pins me to the floor. I gasp at his formidable stare. These eyes of his! A man looks at me from within them, and I forget that he’s barely out of college as my breath catches and holds in my chest. I’m waiting for what he’s going to do. Holding me down, he lowers himself to kiss me slowly and oh-so-sensually. His chest mashes my breasts and his presses on mine. I feel him hardening once more, this time against my inner thigh as my legs go up to encircle him. His tongues tastes so good. And his smell intoxicates me. His body – every inch of it is utterly kissable. I vow to kiss all of him the moment I have the chance. Now is not that time. It’s his time to do what he wants to do to me. I want him to own my body. To make it his own.

  I watch him as he nibbles his way to my breasts, strong hands wrapped underneath my back so that he can lift me to his opened, waiting lips. Lightly brushing them against my nipples, he kisses me and whips his tongue against the tender dark-pink tip until I want to cry under the gorgeousness of this feeling. Nobody’s taken this much time with them. Ever. My neglected breasts have been merely a gateway to better things and have felt the hurt of that, though I was unaware of it until now. They’d become dead inside and Brendan is waking them up, spending so long on just my left breast, tasting and kissing my nipple there, that I relax into the feeling and experience waves of arousal rush over me. For the first time I understand what the fuss is all about. The delirium I feel down below is building with every kiss. He moves to my right breast and takes the same sweet time. I arch my back up and hungrily beg for more. He kisses and coaxes with warm, wet kisses that make me ache. I moan, “Oh Brendan. That feels amazing. Please don’t stop.”

  I don’t expect it nor see it coming when he enters me. Surprised by the penetrating touch against my soft folds, I open my eyes and look at him still kissing my nipple with his broad chest bent and his perfect stomach arched so that his hips can reach up. My head falls back and I open to him crying out as he slowly grinds into me one inch at a time. I am in heaven as he reaches deeply inside me and stops to stay there a moment, moaning against my chest. Rising, he takes charge of my mouth, kissing me hungrily as his speed accelerates. It begins to go too fast as is too often the eager mistake with young men. I remember it from my college days. “Slower…” I whisper. “Slower. Yes. Just like that.” He slows down and moans as the feelings wash over him, the very feelings he was swept up by, take hold now that he takes his time.

  He looks at me and there’s shock behind his need. “Yes. It feels so good. I know.” He says nothing in return and buries his face in my neck making noises that turn my mind to mush. Hardening inside me, I know we’re both going to burst together. As we rock and grip each other, we both yell out at the same time, our heads thrown back. He grimaces in disbelief as my orgasm pulls his mercilessly to depths he’s never experienced. I cry out into his mouth as he kisses me and pounds a few extra times to drag it beyond anything.

  We’re both gasping for air,
and I know that now something has changed in me, too. Never again will I settle for a man who doesn’t move me like this. Never again will I marry for just stability. I’ll make myself stable – and then make love to Brendan until the moon falls from the sky. Thank you for helping me remember my body can still feel.

  “You want to sleep here tonight?” he mumbles into my hair.

  I slide my fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head. “I’d like that.”

  When we get up, he covers me with a blanket, gives me a beer and finishes two, while we talk awhile in the bedroom. At one point I hear something, peek out the window, surprised when I see Jack knocking on the door to my cottage. I close the curtains before he sees me peering at him from next door. Brendan stares at me, his expression indecipherable.

  “He’s back,” I whisper, lost for what to do.

  “Are you going to go talk to him?” Brendan asks, frowning.

  With two directions pulling at me, I stare at the young face of the man I just made love to. I can’t leave him here while I go talk to my soon-to-be ex. How rude would that be? I won’t do that. Jack and I can talk later. Jack’s just reaching. He doesn’t really want me. He wants what most people want – for everything to stay the same.

  “No. I don’t want to leave.” I sink back onto the bed. “Tell me more about yourself, Brendan. Help me take my mind off of… everything that’s ending.”

  He considers me for awhile, silently. Then he stands and walks to the doorframe where he leans on it. He begins to speak about where he’s come from and where he’s going. I learn that he started college late, wasn’t sure he wanted to go, and then decided a degree in marketing could serve him anywhere. He doesn’t enjoy it, but he hasn’t found his passion so for now, it’ll bring in the necessary paycheck. Several times he stops talking and stares at me, eyes narrowing in concentration. Like he wants to say something. Each time, I ask him, “What?”