In love and War

CHAPTER THREE: Guilty Pleasure

He pressed a loud kiss to my cheek, sending a rush of adrenaline deep within my chest. The beating of my heart frenzied, each thud reverberating through my ribcage. Every nerve in my body was awakened, and arousing a craving that couldn’t be contained. I let out a trembling sigh of need, of want, of surrender, as my entire body hummed with electric anticipation. No one - no one could ever make me feel more alive.

“Did anyone see you?” He took my hand in his.

Walking side by side into the house, “you mean did your father see me?” I rubbed in playfully.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He pinched my nose with a cheerful glint in his eyes.

I flopped down on the sofa. “Oh, you mean Amanda? No, your wife didn’t see me.” I could not resist messing with him.

“Not cool, Belle. Not cool.” Leo chuckled, heading over to the minibar.

Of course, I knew what he meant, we had to be careful. If anyone found out about us, if anyone even suspected; there would be no understanding, only judgment. Our world was not ready for this. We would tear hearts apart, and neither of us wanted that.

In the corners of my mind, a thought lived rent-free. If only I could turn back the hands of time, how different things could’ve been. If I had the chance to undo everything, to rewind and relive, my choices would have been different. If I could be twenty-one again, I’d be patient. I’d turn Nathaniel down, not be in a hurry to tie the knot simply because it felt safe. And I’d prefer to be with someone within the same age range rather than one old enough to be my father.

‘Old enough to be my father’, Leo’s anthem throughout the first two years of my marriage when he was in England. He sang it like a broken record. How convenient it was for him to criticize when he’d never even met me. He assumed I wedded for financial gains, that I had chosen Nathaniel as a means to an end. He reduced my entire marital decision to a mere transaction. He wasn’t there to see the affection between Nathaniel and me, and judged from afar. But his opinion did not matter to me. It was obvious he didn’t like me, and if I were to be honest, I didn’t particularly like him either.

Then, he came back home last year to marry his girlfriend - the turning point. The root of a life I never imagined sharing with him. I bet he never saw a day like this ahead where boundaries would blur, and he’d be willing to risk everything to have me in his arms.

Leo returned with a bottle of my favorite wine in a bucket of ice. Leaning on the arm of the sofa, I watched him pour and serve. There was a subtle power in his movements that reeled me in so much that I could not tear away my gaze, even for a second. His simple acts, every motion made my heart flutter. He got seated on the other edge, placed my foot on his thigh one at a time, his gifted hands expertly massaging every curve and arch. His gentle press, his thoughtful caress, it was slow, soothing, and unbearably exciting.

We chatted, we bantered; our words flowing with ease and accompanied with rich sounds of our laughter. I shared stories of my day - my shopping spree, followed by binge-watching Netflix in a failed attempt to numb my boredom. He, on the other hand, spoke with ardor about his day at UCLA, where he was pursuing his PhD degree in Architecture. His words held depth, intelligence - some of the qualities I had always admired about him - as he recounted fascinating facts about the Taj Mahal. For weird reasons, even the academic side of Leo aroused the embers of lust in me.

“Dare!” I yelled with the confidence of a rock star when our conversation led into a game.

Evidently delighted by my response, “really?” his grin widened.

He leaned in with eyes twinkling with mischief. “I dare you to kiss me the way you imagined you would as you drove here.”

Hell, that was the beginning and the end of our truth-or-dare game because his dare took us from the sofa into the bedroom. My long, fervent kiss made him hard and frantic the way I intended. In a sudden, desperate surge of energy, he slammed me against the king-size bed and ripped off his clothes like a maniac. He was wild, untamed, and driven by raw desire. It was the effect I had on him, and the wine amplifying every need, every eye contact, every brush of skin.

Leo crawled on top of me very urgently, undressing me and placing cute little smooches from my chin, down to my neck. He stopped at my collarbone and nibbled gently. Gripping both my wrists with one hand, he pinned them over my head and held me in place. His arm slid around my waist; I arched my back a little as he pulled me back up, then threw me down again. I raised my face, my penetrating gaze held his. His right hand squeezed lightly around my neck. A shiver of delight jolted through my body. I loved it whenever he wasn’t treating me like a piece of glass. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, an intriguing taste of grapes he could not get enough of. His breath blended with mine. It was hard to tell where my exhale began and his inhale ended.

He looked into my eyes - his pupils dilated with sexy lust - as he slid into me slowly. He thrust once, steadily. He thrust again, and we were gone. My eyelids shut in a heavy gasp with each jabbing and grinding. The bed banged against the wall, our skin slapping together lusciously. It was loud. It was violent. Just as I always loved.

Shaking, drenched in sweat, we fell back, completely exhausted. Side by side we lay, basking in the haze of contentment. It was the best. He wore a smug smile, his lips faintly stroking against my ear lobe. With a quiet chuckle, he drew me closer, placing my head gently to his heart and clasping my body in his arms. His heartbeat was steady and comforting. In that moment, I was perfectly pleased.

Like that, we remained for a while. But that was how long I could afford “a while”. I should be home now. I should be lying next to my husband, pretending to love it there better than his son’s bed.

“I have to go,” I whispered the inevitable.

“Please, Belle, stay a little longer,” he begged.

Like always, Leo was reluctant to let me leave. He walked me to the car with the pitiable face of a lost puppy. He wished I would sleep by his side but not tonight. Tonight, he was sleeping alone.

With long hugs and soft kisses, we whispered our goodbyes. An ache settled in my chest as I reluctantly pulled away and slid into the car. His eyes, thick with longing, burnt through my skin. Quietly, I drove off, my body pushing forward toward home while my spirit and soul remained tethered to Leo at the ranch house. A heavy sigh escaped me. Even if circumstance and fate was being ill to us, I knew one thing as sure as day follows the night; he was the love of my life.

My phone buzzed in the passenger seat. Two words lit up the screen.

“Come back.”