Page 52 of Wanted
The heart says one thing, but my mind reminds me that I should go slowly.
That magnetic energy between us continues to vibrate every time he looks at me. I feel it even deep in my soul—at my core. Even though I try to stand firm and fight it, my body seems to have a will of its own.
My will breaks like the waves when they reach the shore.
“What are we going to do now?” I ask in a low voice. My lips are dry. I’m dying for him to put his back on my mouth, to moisten it.
“We’re going to start over,” he decrees. “And this time we’re going to do it right.”
I’m a deer caught by the lights, the flash of his kisses casting a spell.
He moves at full speed, it’s as if they had shot the gun to start the race. Covering my mouth with his, coaxing my lips apart, my tongue meets his, ready to dance. The kiss becomes more intense, hungrier.
I grab onto his shoulders because my stupid knees refuse to hold me. His scent is intoxicating, it fills everything. It affects me like heroin, powerful and devastating.
My fingers tangle in the long strands of his blond hair, pulling him closer to me. His mouth is still on mine, biting and tugging on my lips. When he lifts me off the floor with force, my legs wrap around his waist automatically. My nipples have hardened inside my bra. I rub against his body like a kitten and he moans in response.
In the past, heat invaded me every time he touched me.
Now, I’ve been sent on a direct, nonstop trip to the sun.
Like I have been submerged in boiling oil.
He wants me: I can feel it with his lips on mine, in his hands squeezing me from behind, in the erection that is trapped between us that I want to feel inside of me.
“We have to stop,” I say, despite my entire body protesting my words. Yes, it’s taken all my will to do it. But it’s necessary.
“As my wife wishes,” he answers, breathing fast, his chest rising and falling. “But I must warn you, this high school shit is going to get old very soon and when you finally let me get my hands all over you, on every part of your precious body, I’m going to make sure you pay for making me wait.”
I know those words sound like a threat, but the truth is that I can’t wait for it to be carried out.
Chapter Seventeen
Making soaps is a labor of love. One I genuinely enjoy. The ingredients I ordered online have arrived, plus some other things I needed, like molds and cutters. Shipping my old stuff was so expensive, so it was better to repurchase some of the items.
Catherine wasn’t kidding when she said patience isn’t her strong suit. A few days ago, Jackson came to see Lionel about some pending issues. I took the opportunity to send her some samples I received from home. Then, my new friend transformed, the sweet and smiling woman was replaced by a cavalry general in charge with an arsenal of bubbles in this case.
I need to deliver an order for two hundred and forty soaps in six different fragrances to Catherine as soon as humanly possible. The PR company she manages is throwing a party for their clients and new prospects. She wants my soaps for the swag bags. As the owner of a growing business, I’m extremely grateful for the opportunity and committed to delivering everything to meet her expectations.
The quantity itself is quite manageable, as a dozen soaps come out of each mold, and I ordered twenty of them. Right now, all the ingredients are scattered on the granite countertops in Lionel’s large kitchen. To manage all this, I’ve decided to make three mixes a day. That way, I’ll have time to study in the mornings with the online math tutor.
After lunch, when Lionel locks himself in his office-cave, I’ll tend to my soaps and when the sun starts disappearing on the horizon, we could spend some time together, like we have been doing for the last couple of days. Sometimes we cuddle on the terrace, other times we watch old movies while laying on his ratty sofa. The other night, while sharing a bowl of popcorn, we watched Sister Act. It’s been a long time since I laughed that hard.
Also for a few hours a day, I try to continue with my work while the therapist comes to do some exercises to help completely restore movement in Lionel’s arm, my eyes always end up wandering to his chest and biceps. It’s inevitable, the temptation is far too great for a girl to resist.
Cut me some slack.
Lionel has also started swimming, it’s a delight for my eyes. I’ve been lucky he hasn’t caught me checking him out while he dives into the water. Being isolated in an empty house is really playing with my willpower. Add to the mix that we continue to sleep in the same bed together.
Despite the barriers that continue to separate us. No, I don’t mean the wall of pillows we build every night in his king-size bed. I’m talking about the fact that we are taking this slow, trust is a difficult canvas to fix.
Although we are on the long way to accomplish it, it’s a task Lionel has taken quite seriously.
On the countertop, the ingredients are organized by portions. Today the three batches I’m preparing are honey with lavender, honey with glycerin, and honey with oatmeal. Yes, there is a common theme here, anyone can tell what it is. I was concerned about making them with honey that wasn’t from my hive, but Lionel somehow arranged for my mother to send me a good quantity in several glass containers transported by ground, not by air. How was it possible? Only my husband knows.
My husband in name, not in full use of all his husbandly rights—until now. We have made quite a bit of progress, and I know he’s still working from home to spend more time with me. Although he’s still recovering, he’s doing very well, and the security Jackson has deployed around him could well compete with the Secret Service.
I go over my list once again, it’s better to double-check before starting to avoid making a mistake in the middle of the process. On top of that, I want to test a new recipe, so I’ve ordered two more items from my favorite essential oils supplier.
