Bad Habits Part 33

She tried to speak but her voice failed her. She was literally frozen before him.

"I asked you a question." The door softly shut behind him. Simone gave a double blink, trying to quickly recover from his arrival. He wasn't there she thought. Now he was? "Cain, um hi," she said in a shaky voice, "Do you just barge in the bathroom on everyone?" she asked with a nervous chuckle.

Fl.u.s.tered, she fixed her dress. "Privacy please. Now shoo," She waved him off jokingly then reached for the sweater on the top of the commode. But his touch to her elbow stopped her. Why did he touch her? She wasn't in the right mind to know his touch. Not now.

"You're hurt?" he asked, rather than stated. "Hey, look at me. Did your husband do that?"

Cain gave a gentle pull to her elbow trying to draw her eyes to his. She refused, because she couldn't look at him. How embarra.s.sing it was for him to see her that way. Instead, she stared at the patterned wallpaper. Lilac and yellow flowers on the tiniest of green vines reminded her of the paper in their first home as a married couple. How Keith moaned when she forced him to apply it and the s.e.xual adventure it turned into when she offered to help. They were only married for three months. It amazed her-the contrast to how easy things were then. It seemed like such a long time ago.

"Simone? You okay?"

His voice finally coaxed her to looking his way, to him, to the undeniable present where she was a woman with bruises because of a clumsy argument with her husband. Shame flushed up from her neck covering her face and cheeks when their eyes met. She opened her mouth to answer and nothing came out. Her throat was as dry as a desert. She could barely swallow, let alone speak. And his eyes made it even worse. They were blue like a summer rain with unquenchable warmth. So, she couldn't look away. With him she found the genuine concern her husband no longer showed. She didn't care to break away from the comfort she felt within his stare-not when she so desperately needed it.

His eyes lowered to her bare shoulder. The bruising had faded, unlike the dark achy, discolored patch of bruising on her thigh. It was a persistent pain that couldn't be covered by her veil of denial. And now Cain had seen it. He lifted his hand, his fingertips lightly grazing her shoulder. She could feel that familiar s.e.xual magnetism that surfaced every time he was near. The prolonged antic.i.p.ation of him touching her had built so much tension between them that now she tensed with arousal. Cain was closer than appropriate. When did that happen? With his hand now caressing her arm, she opened her eyes and looked to him to explain it away, but again the heart rendering tenderness in those clear blues of his caught her breath.

"Did he do this? Keith?" He touched her face, turning it fully so he could stare into her eyes.

"No. It wasn't his fault. It was an accident," she answered in a weak tremulous whisper. "We argued and I fell. It was an accident. He...Keith, my husband would never intentionally hurt me." She moved back, her leg b.u.mping the lid of the toilet. With distance between them now, she worked on her sweater, wincing as she re-covered her arms.

"Why is it I don't believe you?"

"Cain, stop. I'm telling the truth."

"He hurt you. A blind man could see it." He took her face in his hands. Simone blinked at him, shocked by the firm way he held to her. She didn't know what to say. It was an accident. Keith had never laid a hand on her in violence in all the years she knew him. He would find it undignified. But Keith was guilty of hurting her far worse than her surface bruises, in ways she couldn't share with another man.

"How long has this been going on?"

"I told you it's not what you think."

Her hand went up to his chest, to push back. She didn't. Her palm flat, her fingers spread, she absorbed the warmth. Then something purely beyond thought happened. She proceeded to feel him, every angle. Her hand smoothly went down to his abdomen to rest just at where she imagined his navel to be. He didn't seem surprised by the way she touched him. Actually, she saw something akin to relief in his stare. It was dangerous, that look he gave her just from feeling him. "I need to go." She looked down at his chest, recalling him in the sun helping her drag out the weeds from the garden and how his skin beaded with sweat that glistened under the roasting heat of the sun. "Back downstairs or..."

"Or what happens if you don't?" he asked, moistening his lips.

The spell broke. Her hand dropped away. She stepped back, her rump pressed into the bathroom sink for balance and control. Her hands dropped to either side of her. She gripped the sink behind her.

"If he's hurting you in any way, I'll snap his neck. You don't have to be afraid. Tell me what happened. The truth, Simone."

"He isn't. He is my husband. Remember? And your boss."

"I don't care."

"Well, how about this? Your wife might if she knew how attentive you were," Simone warned.

"Knew? That I can't stop thinking about you? That every time I'm near you I want to touch you? That you feel the same way?"

"I don't, this is ridiculous." She tried to move but he blocked her. "Let me out of the bathroom, Cain."

He shook his head no. "Why did you come here? Did you come to see me?" he asked.

"Of course not. Did you see the gathering of women downstairs? I was invited-"

"Did you come to see me?" Cain asked again.

"How arrogant. I'm not trying to get next to you-"

"Too late for that. You already have."

Silence.

"Let's not do this, okay?" she pleaded. "I would never betray Keith. Not like this."

"But you have. We both have-."

"No." Simone shook her head.

"So this doesn't hurt?" he asked again, but his touch was too soft to be a threat. His hand covered her arm. Simone shivered.

"We're friends, Cain. You don't want to mess this up. Neither do I."

"You don't know what I want, Simone. You haven't asked. Maybe I should tell you?"

"No. Don't. No, what you should do is walk out of this bathroom and let me go back to your wife and her friends. We'll stop. The instant messenger chats, the flirting, it'll all stop now. Keith and I had a fight. We have problems, Cain. All married couples do. It doesn't mean that I should do to him what he's done to me. I can't take that on too. So we let this go, whatever it is. That's what you and I should do. Let it go before it gets too far out of hand and people get hurt."

She searched his face for understanding, hoping he was stronger than the desire building between them. He was looking at her as if he'd stripped her naked already. The fireball of need between her legs meant he might as well have done so already. She had to cool things down now or they'd both go up in smoke. She wasn't just playing with fire here, she was playing with an inferno. His hand lowered from her arm, crisis averted. Some of the intensity she felt lessened. Though his gaze was soft as his caress, she knew he wasn't that guy to destroy his marriage for this thing neither of them understood.

Something intense flared when his hand brushed hers just as he made to draw back and let her go; a spark neither of them meant or foresaw. The pulse of want jolted her heart. The blood in her veins sizzled and boiled when his fingers brushed against hers. Her hand was racked with tremors from that slight touch, and then he came back for more, their fingers intertwining. Simone exhaled. His free hand went to her thigh, the exact spot that caused her so much discomfort. G.o.d help her but she tried really hard to shake the intensity of the desire that went through her from mutual contact. She would swear on her dying breath that she tried hard to fight against the overwhelming need for more.

"If you were mine I'd never-" His deep timbered voice broke.

She felt so powerless. When was the last time she was truly desired by a man in that way? If ever? He ran his hand up and down her thigh growing bolder by her compliance. "Don't say anything. Not a word," he breathed. She didn't. His gaze dropped from her eyes, her shoulders, to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. There they lingered. If she were honest with her self, she'd admit it wasn't all fear. She also felt ripples of excitement over the taboo. "You're right. This is wrong," he groaned. "My being in here with you, touching you, wanting you. But if I didn't-" He licked his lips and finally looked up from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his face close, his hand rubbed softly against her thigh. "If I didn't touch you it wouldn't stop me from wanting to."

"Your wife's downstairs," Simone whispered.

"I told you not to say a word."

Simone turned her face away. "Your wife is downstairs!" she said more firmly.

"Your husband's next door," he mocked her.

Her heart ached under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach muscles clenched. His invitation was clear, a pa.s.sionate challenge for her to do what she wanted. Just this once. No thought of consequence, or of others, just for once to do what she wanted. This isn't me! Her inner voice screamed in her head. No matter the state of her marriage, she wasn't the woman that went into another woman's home and made out with said woman's husband in her bathroom. This isn't me! Her lips parted and her eyes lowered to look at his. Their lips were just a fraction apart. "I can't breathe," she stammered. "No air." She managed and then licked her dry lips. His eyes followed the movement of her tongue.

Her nipples tightened against the smooth silk of her dress and her thighs tensed, because she knew what was coming. She wanted it. The sensual battle they'd waged since he pinned her to the sink had well been lost. Simone lifted her hand to his face, she stroked the barely there stubble. His hand slipped around her hip to stroke the rounded curve of her b.u.t.tock then cup her left cheek. "Say I can?"

"Kiss me," she begged. Her mouth parted just a centimeter from his, welcoming the warmth of his breath into her own. "Do it before I change my mind."

He did.

Her vow of discipline was undone. His tongue traced the seam of her pressed lips and she was enticed to let him in. He then explored the recesses of her mouth, giving her self freely to the sweet richness of their pa.s.sion. Raising both arms, she stretched up to press her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the wall of his chest and allow him to hold her. She let her fingers rove and disappear through the dark silky strands of his hair. His lips and probing tongue were more persuasive than she dare admit. They were fiery hot against hers, and he panted for the burning. Holding on, pressing her s.e.x against the bulging coiled knot of d.i.c.k zipped away from her reach, she moved her thighs apart a fraction for the rubbing. She wanted to feel him. She wanted to run her hands back down his pecks and let them slip into his pants to feel him.

He gripped her by her hips, turning and sitting her on the sink. Her legs, parting as a reward, invited him in between; the hurried action caused the bar of soap and rinse cup to drop into the sink. An electric toothbrush fell with a soft clank to the floor. Her head dropped back and his kisses rained downward. He pressed an even sweeter one to the hollow of her throat.

"Simone," he groaned. His questing fingers went to her center. His thumb rubbed at her c.l.i.t, which swelled behind her panty. She didn't shy away from any of it. Simone wanted him to go further.

"Oh G.o.d, help me," she rasped.

His demanding lips went over her collarbone then lower to the rise of her swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushed up to the front of her dress. Simone's head lulled over and her eyes popped open, just as a finger, his thickest finger, pierced her p.u.s.s.y. Looking out through the open bathroom window to her house, to where he had seen her, a warning flash of Keith and this new betrayal gripped her. It shocked her into her senses as he inserted a second finger.

She shoved him back.

He panted hard at the break. He then made a move to go for her again, but she shot past him to the door.

"Simone? No, wait!"

She didn't. She didn't dare pause for a second, despite the sting to her ankle. She ran for the stairs and then down, nearly losing her footing on the last. Gathering herself quickly, and stabilizing her breathing, she emerged to the ladies chatting and clinking their Sangria filled wine gla.s.ses.

"Simone! We thought you fell in! C'mon, girl, let's get this party going," Joan called out to her.

Maryanne's head turned. She shot Simone a curious look that made her drop her eyes and look away. "Ladies, I just got a call. My husband. I'm so sorry, he-he's not feeling well and he's being a baby about it," she said, grabbing her purse. Suddenly she realized there was no phone in her hand. The phone was in her purse. Joan gave her a funny look, but Maryanne looked relieved, as if she wanted her out of her house. Well that worked perfectly. Her lips and p.u.s.s.y still tingled with remembrance of what happened upstairs.

"Here, hun." Joan pa.s.sed her a paper with her number scrawled on top. "Let's do lunch, okay?"

"Thanks."

"G'night," Maryanne said without offering anything further. The other ladies gave her pleasant smiles and words of goodbye. She nodded to them and hurried for the door. She'd never felt more relieved as she did once she was on the other side of it.

"d.a.m.n it!" Cain snapped, he picked up the soap dispenser and threw it with such force at the wall it shattered the top, splattering purple soap gel over the wallpaper. He dropped forward on the sink holding to it with clenched hands. What have I done? What the f.u.c.k was I thinking? He wasn't thinking. He hadn't thought any of it through. He was acting on something else. Something he believed he had under control was his feelings for her. After hearing Keith Livingston call her a b.i.t.c.h today, seeing the bruises, how fragile she seemed, combined with how much he wanted her, he had lost his head.

"f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k!" he cursed.

Every cell in his being was torched. His c.o.c.k ached so bad his knees locked. He could still feel the wet heat of her soft tight channel on his two fingers. She was still there, he could smell her perfume, taste her skin against his tongue. He had held her, and there would have been more. G.o.d help him, but if she didn't leave he would have taken more. Right there on the spot. He would have asked for forgiveness later and showed her what it was like to be loved. Cain lifted his head and looked himself in the eye. It wasn't easy. He was a coward in so many things in his life. His mother, his wife, his career, and the first act of rebellion he's taken was a bigger disaster than all three.

"Cain?" Maryanne knocked on the door first before opening it.

"Not now," he wheezed, his erection still prevalent. She opened the door. Their eyes met in the mirror first, then she surveyed the damage. "What's going on? I heard a crash from downstairs. What the h.e.l.l happened?"

"Its fine. I dropped it."

"Dropped it? You threw it?"

"Maryanne, give me a f.u.c.king minute, okay. Just leave me alone."

"But?"

"NOW!" he shouted. Closing his eyes, he squeezed them tight, willing his d.i.c.k to go down before she came in and uncovered his secret and put it all together. There was no telling how Simone left the house.

He heard the door close.

Cain opened his eyes again to find himself alone. He turned on the tap, cupped some of the lukewarm water in his palms to splash on his face. It wasn't much, but it was something. He needed a cold shower. f.u.c.k, he needed a lobotomy because he had lost his mind. Desiring her was one thing. A playful game had brought some excitement into his life. Now that he had sampled her, there was no going back. He wanted out. Now he wanted Simone.

"f.u.c.k. I f.u.c.ked myself straight to Hades man. Straight to h.e.l.l."

"Simone?"

She turned from the door, barely two steps inside before he called her name. When she looked up he was marching toward her. Shirt off, he wore a pair of basketball shorts, blue with yellow trim. His fraternity brand was stamped on his chest and arm. Simone stepped back at his approach, her eyes wide with fear and guilt.

"Babe, I'm glad you came back early," Keith said with a deep sigh of relief.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed," she mumbled, heading for the stairs.

"Not so fast." He blocked her pa.s.s. "Come on, babe. f.u.c.k this separation s.h.i.t. How long are you going to treat me like this? I'm not perfect."

"I know you aren't, Keith. I never said you were." Simone struggled to keep the tremor out of her voice that went through her. She could barely look him in the eye. She felt so guilty, so ashamed and so low. "No one's perfect," she admitted.

"Exactly!"

Simone nodded. "I'm tired."

"Me too, babe." He touched her and she flinched.

"Hey, you're shaking?" Keith said alarmed.

"I'm fine." She kept her head bowed and sucked in her bottom lip that trembled.

She remained unable to meet his questioning gaze. In fact, she feared it. Keith touched her chin, lifting her face. "Did they do something to you? The Gatlins?"

"No."

He tried to bring her into his arms but she pushed back. "Don't. Don't touch me. I don't deserve it."

"You aren't making any sense, babe. I'm not sleeping in the guest bed tonight," he said, and the threat in his tone was uncharacteristically ominous.

"Okay. I understand," she said. "I'll take the guest bed. Excuse me."

"Wait, d.a.m.n it!" He grabbed her arm with a hard yank. She winced and let go a gasp of pain. Immediately he let her go. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. But stop walking away from me!"

"It's okay," Simone said, barely noticing the panic in his eyes. She just wanted to escape him. Her eyes remained cast down.

"It's not okay. I'm your man, remember? Come here."

"Stop." Her hand went up. "Keith, all we do now is hurt each other. Please, just stop, okay? I'm not punishing you. I'm really not. I just want to go to bed."

But he wouldn't listen. He never listened. That was his problem. He just couldn't hear her. She backed to the door when his hand brushed her breast.

"Simone, what's changed between us? Let me make this right." He kept touching her, reaching for her. His hands were everywhere. She wanted to scream. But she resisted, just shaking her head no fiercely. "It's only you, babe. Our marriage is what I want. I want it back on track," Keith insisted.

She thought of Cain. She throbbed between her legs from his fondling. "Please, just leave me alone," Simone panted. He stepped back at the broken sound to her plea. Tears shimmered on her long lashes, threatening to fall. "I know you want us to work, Keith. I believe you, okay? I do."

"Then what's the problem?"