Acts of Contrition Page 4

“We’re getting divorced.”

  “Do you really want that?”

  Craig paused. “I never did. But we were fighting all the time.”

  “Why?”

  “We couldn’t agree. She spent too much, I had an emotional affair.”

  Madeline considered him. “Why?”

  “Why what?” Craig was even more confused.

  “Why did she spend too much? Why did you have an emotional affair?”

  Craig paused. Why had they done those things? They’d had such a strong relationship when they first started out, and it went away…“I don’t know.”

  Madeline nodded. “You and your wife are a beautiful couple. Think very hard about giving that up. Even the tallest mountains can be conquered.”

  Craig took her words and headed for the patio. There was a waiter standing there behind a table with wine glasses laid out. The waiter gestured to the glasses.

  “Good evening, and welcome. I’m Calvin Norcross and I’m your sommelier for the evening. I’ll be showing you how to pair not just cheese with wine, but foods, as well. Please enjoy a glass of this pinot grigio to start the evening. You’ll find some lovely mild cheese and crackers with various jams on the tables. Are you joining someone here, sir?”

  “My wife.” Craig looked around, and didn’t see Michele. He could have sworn she’d left, but he wasn’t exactly pay attention to everything as well he should have been.

  “I’m sure she’ll be along in a few minutes,” Calvin said.

  Craig nodded, walking to a table near the back of the patio where the Gulf was easily visible and moon glinted off the peaceful water.

  What am I doing? Craig sipped the wine, the crisp, slightly sweet taste danced across his tongue. What are we doing? He couldn’t wait to see Michele, to see what she had picked to wear, and if the sun and wind had piqued her color as it usually did. He wanted to see her wonderful curves as she walked toward him at the table.

  Why were they getting divorced? If he felt this excited to see here, had he called it too soon? But then again, he had spent six months cultivating an affair and nearly went through with it. He didn’t want anything to do with Tara now. In fact, he was on the verge of being disgusted with himself about the whole thing. He just needed the attention. Someone…

  Someone who didn’t have to take care of the kids at the drop of a hat. Someone who wanted to spend time with him outside of the norm. Someone who wanted to know him and not just how his day was. Someone who wanted more out of him than a person to weed-whack the lawn.

  And he realized he had compartmentalized Michele out of those categories. She was a mother, she had to deal with the kids. She was a housewife, she had things to do around the house. She was his wife, she tried to be interested in his life. She just wanted to not worry about the lawn, she had the inside of the house to worry about.

  Damn it. This was not fair to either of them. He wanted more. So did she.

  “Seat taken, stranger?”

  Craig looked up to find Michele standing there. She was wearing a pair of pants—his mother would have called them slacks—and a silk blouse that rippled softly in the breeze. Her hair was down and styled into waves. She had opted for glasses, and her face was as rosy as he imagined it would be.

  She was beautiful.

  Craig stood and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled, sitting down with the glass of wine in her hand. Craig moved his chair next to her, pulling over a clean appetizer plate. Michele immediately grabbed two slices of brie and some fig jam.

  “Are you having fun?” Craig asked.

  “Relatively speaking, yes,” Michele admitted. “It’s been an interesting vacation so far.”

  “That it has.”

  “Did you get a shiner?”

  “Nah.” Craig touched his jaw. “No shiner. My jaw hurts like a bitch though. Probably will for a few days. Thanks for the save, by the way.”

  “They were jerks.” Michele took a sip of the wine. “Mm. That’s nice.”

  “I thought so too.” Craig nodded in agreement.

  Calvin called everyone’s attention to the front where he was standing and began his presentation. There were a dozen wines, two dozen cheeses, and appetizers galore. Craig hoped the sommelier was hiding more bottles somewhere, he felt like he would need a few more.

  “Good evening, ladies and gents,” he said, clapping his hands. “Let’s get our show on the road, shall we? Traditionally, we swish and spit our wines. However, this is a bed and breakfast and you’re all on vacation. So sip and swallow wisely.” The statement was followed with an exaggerated, knowing wink.

  Calvin was brilliant. Witty and funny, he not only paired the wines perfectly, but also showed them all what happened when they weren’t paired correctly with the jams and cheese and even the crackers on the table. It was all an amazingly educational gathering, and Craig felt delightfully buzzed. Calvin’s concession to vacationers turned out to be a wonderful idea. He could see the flush in Michele’s cheeks as well, and by the end of the hour-long presentation, she was giggling like a schoolgirl.

  The night was still early when Calvin ended that Craig—and his liquid courage—turned to Michele. “Would you like to go for a walk on the beach? The moon is up and it’s a gorgeous night.”

  “Yes.” The answer was firm, and drunken.

  Craig held her chair while she stood. He grabbed her jacket and held it while she slipped into it, then motioned her to the patio gate that led to the ocean. They both waved at Calvin as they managed the stairs to the boardwalk that disappeared into the sand. They were far south of the sea walls, and the sand was soft and satiny.

  Craig realized he wanted to take Michele’s hand and walk down the beach with her like they used to do on the Cape when they were first married and taking a long summer weekend.

  “This is a pretty place.” Michele fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

  “I think so too,” he agreed, heading out to waves. He let the retreating water soak his feet as a sudden wave rushed up and got the hem of his pants. “Damn it. Sand.”

  Michele laughed. “You always have that problem, don’t you?”

  “I’m not very good with the water.” Craig bent down to cuff the pants so they wouldn’t get soaked by any more errant waves. Another one rushed up and soaked him anyway while he was working. “Damn it!”

  Michele was trying not to laugh, but there was too much wine in her system. She gave up, dropping her hand, letting her laughter roll out. The sound was lost to the quiet rush of waves, which Craig decided was the only sound he liked more than Michele’s laugh.

  “I’m… I’m glad we came here,” Michele said as Craig straightened.

  “Me too,” he agreed. “Even for the perverts and the meatheads.”

  Michele smiled. “What’s life without some perverts and meatheads?” She kicked some of the water coming in back at the ocean. “I haven’t heard from the kids in three days.”

  “Are you worried or relieved?”

  “Both.” Michele looked up at the sky. “They’re getting older. And they love your parents and all that giant piece of land they live on. I’m glad they love it there.”

  “They probably haven’t turned on the television the whole time, either.”

  “Your father will make sure they work from dawn to dusk and probably fall into bed exhausted at eight each night.” Michele smirked. “Perhaps we should consider a farm.” She stopped dead in the sand, Craig nearly knocking her over. She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face. There was something she wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words. Craig knew the look—it had been on his face for the better part of the day.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’m acting like we’re not getting divorced.”

  Craig dropped his eyes to the sand, and then back to her. “Did I call it too soon?”

  “I don’t know.” Michele sighed. “I just don’t know.”

  “I’m considerably buzzed, Mishi,” C
raig admitted. “I don’t know if I can think straight right now. But I’m happier than I have been in months—maybe years—with you here.”

  “Me too.” Michele looked up at the stars again. “Remember the nights we used to spend in the mountains, staring up. Wondering. Making up our own constellations.”

  Craig tilted his head back, staring up at the stars. “We had the lion, and the raccoon, and the cheetah. You saw a kangaroo and a lightbulb.”

  “And you saw a toaster.”

  “Oh, God, that’s right. Benny the Toaster, the leader of the Western Skies.” Craig started laughing. “I must have had too much to drink that night.”

  “You’ve had too much tonight as well, maybe you can find Benny again.”

  Craig turned his gaze back to her. “That’s not the only thing we used to do out there under the stars.”

  Michele snapped her head to look at him. “What a scandalous suggestion!”

  “It’s not a suggestion,” he stated. “Not at all. Logan was conceived out there.”

  “He was, wasn’t he?”

  Craig didn’t realize what he was doing until he found himself pressing Michele against himself, wrapping his arms around her, and possessing her mouth wholeheartedly. There was no resistance from her at all. In fact, when he became brave enough to seek entrance, to seek out her tongue, she was more than willing, more than happy to grant him access.

  Michele tasted as she always had, mint and ginger, and this time a hint of the wines they had been sampling earlier. She was warm, soft, and pliant in his arms. He pulled her to him, feeling her soft, full breasts against him, and he continued to plunder her, his tongue meeting hers, dancing with it in a kiss they hadn’t shared the likes of in years.

  She finally nudged him away. “You could always kiss my panties off.”

  Craig laughed. “I always loved kissing you.”

  “Why haven’t we?” The question was quiet, and yet screamed the loudest.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  Michele sighed. “I might be more drunk than I imagined, but I’m going to say this anyway. I want you to take me back to the room and make love to me.”

  Craig felt his instant reaction to her words. “Are you sure?”

  “I offered.” Her words were firm. “Do with it what you will.” Michele leaned in closer. “Do with me what you will.”

  * * *

  Maybe she would regret it in the morning, but the way Craig had swept her off her feet on the beach and nearly ran back to the room made her think neither of them would. She didn’t know what really made her tell him to take her back to the room, but at that moment, as Craig kicked the door closed behind them and headed straight for the bedroom, she didn’t know if she really cared.

  He had stopped at the patio and put her on her feet, but before opening the gate, had kissed her hard. A consuming kiss, that tingled from hair to toes. He’d stopped her again just inside the building to press her against the wall there, tasting her slowly, carefully. The elevator was thankfully short, because she couldn’t imagine trying to walk very far after the kiss inside there.

  The room wasn’t far from the elevator. Michele was afraid if it had been, Craig would have started pulling her clothes off in the hall.

  Instead, he played the gentleman. He waited until they were in the bedroom before he pulled her blouse open, losing a single button, and dropped his mouth to the breast he had managed to remove from its lacy home.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she breathed. His mouth on her was a delicious distraction. “Come on, please. Stop teasing.”

  “I’m not teasing,” Craig said, around her breast. “I’m enjoying this. Tell me you’re not.”

  Michele had to muffle a squeal as his lips and tongue teased her, dancing over her most sensitive spot. “Of course I’m enjoying it.” She finally managed to get the words out. “But that’s not what I offered on the beach.”

  Her knees were pressed against the bed and Michele had no recollection of being led there. As he continued his feast, Craig managed to slip his arms up her back for support, lowering her to the bed behind her. And while there, he made quick work of her bra.

  “So what was your request on the beach?” he teased.

  “Make love to me,” Michele answered.

  “I can do that.”

  “Not with those damn pants on,” she said.

  Craig pulled back, nodded. “You’re right. And you’re also still too dressed.”

  Michele pressed him back. She sat up part way and stripped off the shirt, pants and now useless bra as she kept an eye on Craig as he stripped. She got a full view of the ripped body he was sporting now, and she was surprised she didn’t start drooling. He was tight in all the right places.

  As he pulled the boxers down, she was reminded that Craig was a very well-endowed man.

  How long has been since we’ve done this?

  “Turn around, baby,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Turn around for me,” Michele repeated. “I want to see that backside.”

  “Since when are you a butt woman?”

  “Since you toned that butt. Turn around.”

  Craig complied and she was delighted—the tight, tiny, toned tush was indeed perfect. She couldn’t stop the groan of appreciation as he turned back to her. He was clearly amused she liked his ass that much, but he didn’t give her much time to do anything about it. He was back on the bed a moment later and crawling up the length of the bed to where Michele had propped herself on the pillows.

  Catching her mouth with his once again, she tasted him--cinnamon. Overwhelming her, swirling between them, making her heady. She was suddenly desperate for him, and the teasing had gone far enough. “Craig, please.”

  “What is it, babe?” Craig asked, nipping his way up her chest, up her neck.

  “Please, don’t make me wait anymore.” He settled between her legs, and she welcomed his familiar weight. She was about to ask him again when she felt him press against her, asking for entrance. More than happily, she opened for him. His heaviness slid home, and as he filled her, she realized how long it had been since they had slept together. He was almost painful, but it was the best kind of pain.

  Craig’s new position there gave her a perfect angle to grab the backside she’d been eyeballing for the past few days. It was as magnificent to hold, as it had been to behold.

  “Shit, baby,” he breathed in her ear. “This feels like home.”

  “Move, Craig, damn it,” she answered. “I’ve missed this.”

  It didn’t take him a moment to find an easy, thrilling rhythm between them. The sensations tripped through her, calming and exciting her at the same time. She had missed the feelings Craig could send through her body, the connection this brought them.

  “When was the last time?” Craig’s voice was soft, but his breath was ragged.

  “I don’t remember.” The words were uneven, but timed with each of Craig’s thrusts. “I don’t remember why we stopped doing this.”

  The sounds of their lovemaking were the only thing filling the room—the press of flesh against flesh, the panting, moaning, gasps of the pursuit of ecstasy. A moment passed, Craig lowered his mouth to Michele’s breast and feasted on her. He hummed softly for a moment, then glanced at her. “I know what you need, baby.”

  “And what’s that?” Michele asked.

  He withdrew from her warm welcoming sheath, rolling so that Michele was on top. Before Craig could say a word, Michele settled on him and found their rhythm again. Craig still knew her body though, and a careful finger slipped between them, finding her most sensitive spot, teasing and delighting her.

  “Oh, God,” she hissed out. “Craig…” There were no other words she could remember. She didn’t think she needed them.

  “Mishi.” His answer was as breathless and brief as hers.

  “I’m coming,” she managed to warn him.

  “Yes.” His simple answer was laced with enc
ouragement.

  Michele moved over him and his finger with abandon and purpose at the same time. She wanted this, she wanted him. She remembered how amazing they were together, how they were brave and bold with each other, and how it had been about what they could do for each other. Their lovemaking had never been selfish, even now Craig’s purpose was to get her to climax. And once she was there, it would be his turn.

  Michele found the idea of Craig’s climax excited her. It added to the feelings he was stirring with himself and his finger, and she found herself bucking on him a moment later. There was no stopping her climax—and with a quiet cry, it took her down, dropping her on to his chest, her body thrumming and barely able to keep rhythm of her body over him.

  Craig wrapped his arms around her and rolled them once more, holding himself above her. She knew he was close, and she wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him as her climax finished shuddering through her.

  His rhythm was punishing, and she took it willingly. A moment later, she was rewarded with the climax that followed. Craig left himself inside her, her name a murmured prayer from his lips with each of his last thrusts.

  Gently, she put a hand on his cheek. “When was the last time we did this?”

  Craig shook his head, lowering himself to the bed next to her. He pulled Michele in close. “I don’t remember. Too long.”

  Michele turned and pressed her lips to his, kissing him softly and deeply. There was no purpose in her kiss save to kiss her husband. It wasn’t long until Craig’s response started to lace with lust and desire again. “Craig?”

  “Mm, yes?”

  “Make love to me again.”

  Chapter Six:

  He woke with his wife curled around him for the first time in a long time. They were both still wonderfully naked under the blanket and his muscles were well used. He’d be sore all day.

  Perfect.

  Lazily, Craig ran his hand down the long line of her body, from her arm all the way down to her hip.

  “Don’t,” Michele whispered, rising from sleep.

  “Don’t what?” Craig was genuinely confused.

  “I’m fat.” Her words were a whispered confession.