Reaching Hearts - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,8

Well, I would have knocked it out of his hand and had my way with him by force! But then you came and stole me from him. He’s lucky to have escaped. You? Not so much.”

I knew I was the lucky one. I knew this, and I was drawn to her, because the look in her eyes was so different than the women I knew. Often from them I felt I was a prize to be won, not a man to be loved. But this young American girl looked at me without motive. Staring at her then, my mood changing with her reassuring words and languid body, I traced the lines of her breasts with my glance, still struggling for which direction to take.

“I am wondering if I made a mistake bringing you back here, young one.”

She frowned into the curve of pillow and touched the blanket, playing with the fabric between her finger and thumb. “Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. When her eyelashes swept back up, there was determination. “I don’t think it was a mistake. I don’t care how old you are. It feels good to be around you.” Her eyes flashed away, as though shyness suddenly took hold. Barely loud enough for me to hear, she muttered, “I can leave.”

I knew I didn’t want her to, but I stood my ground, a decision still not made.

Once more her eyelashes swept up to me. Her bright blue eyes sank me deeply and almost against my will, into her sweet vulnerability. Without words, she begged me to let her stay. The sight moved me. She bit her lip as she slowly pushed the blanket down, revealing her light, ginger-colored triangle, the curve of her hip, the soft crease where her legs met. The blanket hovered in her fingers at the middle of her thighs and she released it. I breathed in deeply as the need for her filled me. She held my eyes with an open invitation.

This can only end in heartbreak, I thought to myself as I climbed onto the bed and pulled her into my arms, taking her. Even as I pressed deeply inside, even as I saw her head fall back as her body opened to me in every way… I thought the heartbreak would be hers.

Never once did it occur to me that it would be mine.

Blinking away the past, I look down to see I’m erect, just as I was then. The memory reached into me and pulled out desire for her as she was then. I’m aroused by a fantasy! Anger pulses through me. I am alone and dreaming of a woman who no longer wants me. She says it may still be between us, but what evidence do I see since she left? How long have I been standing here? It feels like an hour but the clock says only ten minutes have passed since I awoke. How can that be? I have to start my day alone. I’m hungry. I need coffee. I need to eat. What good am I? Did I not give her everything? What will it take to make such a woman as her, happy?

Rage builds stronger and carries my feet hard against the ceramic tile, leading me quickly into the long hallway outside our room. I stop at a framed, hanging photograph of us at El Duomo in Firenze, her hair long then. When was this? Last year? Did I know she planned to leave me then? I look happy, so I think I must not have known. While her mouth is smiling, her eyes are not. She must have known the end was coming. How did I not see it? How could I have been such a blind fool? With a fierce grip, I pull the photograph off the wall and throw it to the ground. The release of broken glass exploding into tiny pieces around my bare feet is not enough. My skin is hot. The house feels like a jail I cannot escape from.

Crashing past the glass, I fly into the kitchen and freeze, my body tight with surprise.

There’s a carton of eggs next to olive oil, beside a pile of fresh basil leaves from my garden. A package of bacon from the butcher sits close by, still wrapped. Bananas, melon, and apples, are sliced and waiting, laid out beautifully on a plate next to blueberries and grapes. Sophia’s eyes go large and shocked as she takes in the sight of me ferociously