In love and War

One thing about the forbidden fruit - it is forbidden. Once tasted, there is no going back. No redemption, no absolution. An addiction, it pulls you in for more. A wise man knows to avoid it with everything he’s got. But fools like me, we indulge. We open up ourselves to a thirst we never knew existed; a hunger nothing else can satisfy. We lose our soul to its sweetness, yet find a twisted salvation in its fragrance. We are marked by its stain and carry it boldly in a world where shame and pride are indistinguishable. Ah, yes, the forbidden fruit, a sweet and sour catalyst for journey to a land where losing is winning, even winning, losing. “I feel uncomfortable with you staring like that,” I pointed out, adjusting the temperature of the oven. If looks could kill, I’d be long gone already. “Well, I can’t watch you with my eyes closed now, can I?” With arms folded across his chest, Leo scowled. I’d never been subjected to such scrutiny before, particularly from someone who certainly had no slightest clue about baking. “Is that the appropriate measurement?” He questioned when I added the baking soda, “You know, just making sure you don’t kill us all. I sure don’t want to die on my birthday.” There were a million and one speeches I wanted to say to him, the questions swirling in my mind far more. Yesterday felt like a dream. His lips on mine, the warmth of his breath against my skin, and his arms around my body, holding me as if I were his most treasured possession. I hadn’t recovered from it all. The music of his soft moans was a catchy chorus that replayed in my brain. The huge, red hickey I wore to bed got me walking around with a scarf on my neck. I woke up this morning with the reluctance to shower because I didn’t want to wash off his scent. How did he switch from that to the cocky jerk he’d always been? Perhaps, we were merely caught up in the moment the night before. What was I expecting? We were alone. The moon was at the peak of its glory. The cold at the beach followed us home. The vibrations in the quietness engulfed us. I repeated to myself, we were merely caught up in the moment the night before. Although, for me, I could tell it was more than that. He’d pulled a lever. He’d revived a sleeping giant. Now, where would I go from here? I found the answer in the way he ignored me completely at the breakfast table. I found the answer in his death glare when I did not oppose my husband’s suggestion to bake his birthday cake. I found the answer in the long kiss he bestowed upon his wife right in my presence when she was heading out to the salon. And the insistence that the cake be done under his invigilation because I just might add a little poison or make a mistake that’ll kill everybody. Really, Leo? “You know, since you are here, you might as well make yourself useful.” My patience was wearing thin, and the tension was sinking its teeth into me. “Excuse me?” His eyebrows raised in astonishment. “Check the bottom drawer over there and bring me the fondant cutters.” Grinding some granulated sugar in the blender, I ordered. “I am here to supervise, not to be your little errand boy.” He glowered. “Supervise? Do you even know what flour is?” Mixing the powdered sugar with softened butter, I scoffed. “Joker.” “Don’t use that tone with me.” He threatened. “Or what?” I fired back. He got out of his seat with the daring face of a frustrated black mother approaching her disobedient child for some serious ass-whooping. The moment he took one step towards me, every cell in my body began to run helter-skelter; not from fear, rather sweet peril. Every atom, giddy with ardor. My nerves began to transmit impulses faster than they should. My body was tingly, almost as though my blood was drying up and my only hope to live was in his touch. The closer he got, the stronger the magnetic force of him pulled me to fly into his arms. I anchored my feet to the ground, refusing to budge but so weak in the knees, I just wanted to surrender. His hands wrapped around my throat; it was excitingly dangerous, yet intensely intimate. I liked the danger as much as the intimacy. There was something about the threat that ached as much as the tenderness. He looked deep into my eyes; his focus could not be anywhere else even if he tried. Everything he saw therein made him want to do things, bad things, to me. He had to resist it, he knew he had to. And that was new territory for Leo. Restraint was never his thing. He was used to taking, without holding back. “Just be a good girl. It won’t kill you, you rebel.” He whispered under his breath in a beseeching tone. His parted lips quivered in the quest for survival from a drought that could only be quenched by the taste of mine. “You don’t tell me what to do.” Speaking slowly through clenched teeth, I faced him like a mule standing his ground. “Stop. Talking. Back.” He warned, pressed by my obstinacy. “You do not get to tell me what to do.” I broke the invisible cord holding his sanity together. His right arm grabbed my waist and pulled me closer in a possessive grip until there was no space between us. His touch was a claim. It was a force; a silent command of dominance that tethered me like nothing else could. He didn’t just hold me; he completely enveloped me, as though intentionally overwhelming me with his presence. Time lost all meaning, every sensation magnified, there was no past or future, only his body heat fusing with mine. His intense gaze held mine for a breathless moment, and then without warning, his lips descended on mine. It was tender but electrifying. Gentle but utterly powerful. My arms encircled his neck, without a second thought, I surrendered to the hunger deep within me. His kiss was heaven, yet shrouded in mystery. His kiss was like Cupid’s arrows, aiming straight at my heart and every shot hitting its mark. It drove me higher and higher, into a state of euphoria where there was no coming down. Untying my scarf, his lips moved down my neck to my shoulders and back to my neck. His eyes tracing the love bite on my neck from last night, “did I do this?” he queried with a worrisome tone. I murmured, “Yes. It’s okay. It’s painless. And… it’s beautiful.” Eyes closed, a slow smile of contentment crept on to my face. I opened my eyes to his loving stare. “Yesterday was perfect,” I admitted with a shy look, nibbling on my lower lip involuntarily. Wrapping up the mark, “I couldn’t sleep,” He confessed. “Why were you being obnoxious all day, then?” My fingers brushing against his as our hands found each other and interlocked. “Coping mechanism. I’m sorry.” A hint of regret flickered over his face. “What now?” I asked in a low voice. “We ensure we’re never alone together.” He replied. Without hesitation, I agreed but it was all we ever did: be alone together. With every stolen glance, every unholy touch, every passing second, was a need we couldn’t fight, or hadn’t tried hard enough to. We created a world of illicit moments and silent whispers, and it was our favorite thing to do. It was rebellion, untouchable, and real. It changed everything. I could never ride to the beach alone anymore, Leo had to be there. I could never be truthful with anyone about my whereabouts except him. The garden used to seem so ordinary; it became a place special for our clandestine meetings. Everything changed but I loved it.