Surrender (9 page)

Yet I’m reluctant. I don’t want to leave him. I remind myself that we never got a chance to talk. I should wait until he’s strong enough, then I’ll ask him whether he meant what he said outside my apartment.

And then what.

What if he says that I heard wrong, that he didn’t really mean it. What if he rejects me all over again?

No, I should go, I decide. I’m only staying because I want to remain in the illusion that nothing is wrong, that we’re still together. Sighing, I go to find my bag in the living room, and then go into the kitchen to tell Mrs. Daniels that I’m going.

She takes one look at my bag, and her motherly face falls. “You’re leaving?” She asks. There is no censure in her voice, but disappointment is clear on her face.

“I... yes.” Why do I feel the need to apologize? “David’s much better now.”

She nods slowly. “Of course.”

“I think you should make him something a little more substantial than soup for dinner.” I continue, eager to escape the feeling that I’ve somehow let her down. “I’ll just go check on him before I leave.”

David is sitting on the edge of the bed when I enter the room, his hair wet from the shower. He’s pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms, but his chest is bare. His eyes are sharp and alert, all hint of tiredness gone. They rake me when I enter the room, taking in the bag I’m carrying.

“You’re leaving.” He states tersely.

“Yes.” I say cautiously. Why am I the one feeling bad about leaving, when he’s the one who pushed me away in the first place? I swallow. “You’re obviously feeling better.”

“And so you’re leaving?” he repeats slowly.

I raise my shoulders in a defensive shrug. “I never intended to stay this long,” I remind him, “We were only going to talk, remember?”

He gets up from the bed, his eyes glittering as he rises to his feet. “Apparently, it’s not just me you find abhorrent,” he says, “even being here is so unbearable to you that you can’t wait to leave.” He glares at me for a moment. “You should have left yesterday.” He continues, “Why didn’t you?”

I look away from the challenge in his eyes, distracted by his bare chest, the firmly defined muscles still gleaming from his shower. “You were ill, David.” I say, “I couldn’t leave you.”

“Really?” He closes the space between us in one swift movement. “Is that the only reason?”

He is right in front of me, his face less than an inch from mine. I breathe in the scent of him, his warmth. ‘Yes, that’s the only reason.’ I want to lie, but my lips won’t move. I’m still trying to get the words out, when suddenly, his lips are on mine, firm and insistent, and I don’t care about talking any more.

The kiss is deep and demanding, his lips moving over mine as his tongue teases my lips apart. I let him in eagerly, glorying in each stroke of his tongue against mine. In only a few moments, I’m out of breath, my whole body humming with pleasure and shaking uncontrollably.

He guides me towards the bed, still kissing me as he lays me down on top of the covers. Dimly, I register what’s happening, what we’re about to do, but I don’t care. I’ll never get enough of him. I want him, and if he stops now I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He reaches down for the hem of the dress I rescued from the closet earlier, pulling it up until I’m bared to him except for my bra and panties. There is a queer expression on his face as he bends his heads and starts to kiss my stomach, each touch, light and tender as he moves downwards.

I grip his shoulders, my fingers running over his back, urging him back up to kiss me again. He obliges, his lips capturing mine while he trails his fingers down my body until they’re between my legs, rubbing me through my panties. I can’t bear it. I rub myself against them, eager for more.

How can I live without this? How is it even possible?

“Don’t stop.” I beg, “Don’t stop.”

“Never.” He replies huskily.

I reach for him, running my fingers along the ridge of his arousal through the cotton pajama bottoms. Desperately I pull them down, freeing him. He groans, his eyes closed as I stroke along the length of him.

He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra, and as my breasts spill out, I see his eyes darken. He squeezes both breasts, lowering his head to lick at one nipple, then the other. I gasp at the pleasure, my body tightening, convulsing. I lift my hips and rub against him. I can’t take it much longer.

He looks up into my face and smiles, “Easy,” he says softly, before moving down between my legs to pull my panties off my hips. He doesn’t wait to pull them all the way down before he covers me with his lips, torturing me with his tongue.

I groan loudly, my body thrashing as the first waves of pleasure hit me. He grabs hold of my thighs, spreading my legs wider as he licks, tongues and sucks me until I’m totally wrecked, sobbing and screaming incoherently.

Finally, when my body has stopped shaking, and I’m silent, he comes to lie beside me and pulls me to him, holding me against his body and stroking my hair.

“Don’t leave.” He whispers against my ear.

I don’t say anything. I just lie there in his arms until he starts to breathe deeply.

It feels so good to be lying so close to him, held against his warm male strength, that it only takes a few moments for me to fall asleep, and I don’t wake up until Mrs. Daniels knocks on the door and announces that she’s bringing dinner.

She’s too nice to do anything other than smile knowingly as she carries a tray into the room, placing it on the closest table beside the bed. I look away from her smile, a little embarrassed because I know that she knows that, under the covers, David and I are naked, that we’ve just made love, even though not long ago I told her I was leaving.

I wait for the door to close behind her, before I get off the bed to see what’s in the dishes.

“This looks nice.” I say turning to David, who’s sitting up, and throwing the covers away from his glorious body.

“Yes it does.” He agrees, his eyes never leaving me. “You shouldn’t wear clothes,” he muses, eyes darkening with desire, “Not when you look so much better like this.”

He only has to look at me like that and my heart accelerates.

“Come here.” He says, holding out a hand to me.

“You need to eat.” I tell him, trying to be sensible, ignoring the sudden warm ache between my legs.

“Yes I’m famished.” He grins, and I know he’s not talking about the food.

“Why don’t you let me?” He gets off the bed in a fluid motion. I watch him admiringly as he loads a plate with food and motions for me to sit.

He insists on feeding me morsels with his fingers, which he allows to linger on my lips. It’s so extremely sensual that each time I can’t prevent myself from licking off the little bits of food from his fingers. He does the same to me when I feed him, his tongue teasing the tips of my fingers and sending small shocks up my arms and down my spine.

When we’re done he kisses the middle of my palm, making me tremble.

“You’re perfect.” He tells me, pulling me close.

They’re not the words I want to hear, but I don’t care. I press my body closer to his and offer my lips for another kiss. He groans and pushes me gently back unto the bed, his lips still on mine, and his tongue in my mouth. His fingers move between my legs, stroking, caressing, and mimicking the movements of his tongue above.

I spread my legs wider, easing his way, moaning into his kiss. When I can’t take it anymore, I reach for him, guiding him towards where my need for him is driving me crazy.

He covers me with his body, placing his weight on his elbows as he eases himself into me. I press my hips forward to accommodate him, moaning as he fills me totally.

My breath comes out in a long sigh, and I reach for him, running my hands down his tightly muscled arms. He grips my leg, lifting it to hook it around his waist, then he rocks backwards, and forward again, sliding slowly in and out of me. His eyes are on my face, locked on mine, and his lip are gently parted, his breath ragged and raw. His brow furrows in concentration as he thrusts, his arousal clearly visible on his face. I meet each thrust with my hips, matching his rhythm, my whole consciousness concentrated on his hard length moving in and out of me, stroking me so surely, so sweetly. I tighten my legs around him, pressing his hips closer to me, feeling his muscles flex as he drives into me again and again.

He starts to go faster, each thrust spreading the agonizing pleasure gathering where his body meets mine. I grip the sheets, screaming as my body tightens, and my back bows off the bed. He doesn’t stop thrusting until my body shatters completely, then he stiffens and groans, his eyes closed, his body shuddering as he comes inside me.

I wake up sometime in the night. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the city lights from outside the windows. David’s arms are wrapped around me, his head resting on my breasts.

My body is still singing with pleasure. I sigh. It would be so easy to lie here and pretend that everything is now all right, but how long will it last? We haven’t resolved any of the problems that made me leave in the first place. It may feel different, but everything is still the same.

I can’t imagine where we’ll go from here, and it’s hard to think, held so close to his body. I try to move, maybe if I put a little distance between us, I can concentrate on thinking of what I should do now.

“Don’t leave me.”

I look at David’s face, he’s still asleep, but his arms tighten around me. “Don’t leave me.” He murmurs again, his voice cloudy with sleep, but filled with a certain urgency and desperation. “Please.”

I pull him closer, every reservation disappearing as he relaxes against me. “I’m not going anywhere.” I whisper softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Seven

WHEN I WAKE UP AGAIN, IT’S MORNING, and I’m alone on the bed. I wonder where David is, squelching the familiar feeling of having been abandoned. He isn’t in the bathroom, and when I go out to look for him in the apartment, I only find Mrs. Daniels making coffee in the kitchen.

“Good morning.” I say, hiding my disappointment. “Have you seen David?” I ask, already knowing the answer to my question.

“He was going out when I came in,” she offers, a note of sympathy in her voice.

I nod. “Of course he was.” I say, more to myself than to her. I turn back towards the bedroom, wondering why I’m so surprised and disappointed. I had fooled myself into thinking things were different, but they weren’t. With David, it would always be like this.

I take a quick shower and dress mechanically, eager to leave. This time, I assure myself, I won’t be coming back. I’m done with not knowing where I stand. I’m done with feeling as if I don’t matter. If last night was only sex to him, like our marriage was, then I’ll accept it. I’ll take it as a spectacular end to what we had together, and it will be the end.

I leave the apartment, my journey down to the ground floor reminding me of another time, the first time I left. It’s been two months, and yet the emotions running through me are almost identical. When it comes to David, I’m stuck in the same place, hopelessly in love, and hopelessly unloved.

I’m so preoccupied with my thoughts that I almost walk straight into the woman standing at the entrance of the building.

“Sophie!” she exclaims enthusiastically, her face lighting up in a smile that’s so exactly like David’s it makes me want to look away.

It’s Marianne Weber, David’s mother. Vaguely, I wonder what she’s doing here at David’s apartment building. The last time she came here, he made it very clear that he didn’t want to see her.

“It’s so nice to run into you here,” She says, something in her tone causing me to suspect that it wasn’t coincidence. “You look distressed dear.” She adds, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “I was just on my way home.”

“Ah yes.” She sighs sadly. “You don’t live here anymore.” She studies my face. “Darling, I wonder if I can interest you in having breakfast with me.”

I would rather not sit across from her and have to look at the face that reminds me so much of David. I try to come up with an excuse, but I’m not fast enough.

“Please.” She urges, her blue eyes full of silent entreaty.

“Okay.” I say, giving in.

“We’ll walk,” She declares genially, waving her driver off and threading her arm through mine as we walk down the sidewalk.

“I was very distressed to hear that you’d left David.” She says suddenly, without preamble. “I wanted to talk to you but there was no way to reach you.”

“I changed my phone.” I offer woodenly.

“Of course you did.” She nods, stopping in front of a wide awning over a pair of glass doors just off the sidewalk. A doorman pulls the doors open, and we walk into large and busy café. “Well I didn’t see you,” She continues, “but I did see David, and he was very…” She searches for a word, “wretched.”

“Yes, very wretched.” I scoff, remembering the empty feeling of waking up alone in David’s bed.

She sighs. “I don’t know how much David’s told you about his past...” She starts, as she slides gracefully into her seat.

I follow suit, sitting opposite her, “Enough to know that you neglected him.” I tell her, too involved in my own misery to care whether I’m hurting her or not.

She raises a brow, and then sighs again. A waiter approaches our table, and we make our order, coffee and scones for me, tea and a croissant for her.

“I spent a lot of time with my husband,” She says, “most of my time actually.” She chuckles self mockingly. “Henry and David never got along, even when David was just a little boy.” She shakes her head as she daintily butters her croissant, looking for all he word as if she’s not talking about years of neglect of her only child. “Henry couldn’t have children, so I guess he was a little bit jealous.” She looks at me. “I wanted to be in love and happy, so I chose my husband over David again and again.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You didn’t think David’s happiness was more important than yours?” I ask. I never knew my mother, but I always imagined that if she had lived, she would have loved me more than anything else, including herself.