Bad Habits Part 16

"Where's the pride in that? Besides, I owe it to you for the accidental peeping the other night."

Simone crossed her arms. "How long were you watching me?"

"Not long enough," he countered.

"That's the last flirt. Promise." She half laughed, wagging her pointer finger at him.

"Can I get one more? Just one more." Her cheeks burned, and yes, antic.i.p.ation-every pulse point hammered with it. She felt her heart surge at the plea in his eyes. She focused on his gaze and told him yes with her eyes.

"It'll be my last. Scout's honor." He put his hand over his heart and his other hand up.

"Okay, one more flirt. Your very last flirt."

The soft blue of his irises darkened like sapphire, and he leaned in, his cheek barely touching her cheek. His lips were so very close to her ear. He whispered, "You, Simone, are one, if not the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Simone pressed her lips together. She soon gave a shy smile. "Thank you, Cain."

"Now you ready to work?" He turned away.

"Tell me what to do first," she said, nearly bouncing on her heels with excitement. She hadn't been excited about anything since she closed her business. He nodded, reaching behind his neck and pulling his s.h.i.+rt over his head to reveal a white tee. She looked at his brick layered chest and muscular arms. On his left was a tattoo of a Shamrock. Simone couldn't help but stare. Keith had a brand on his shoulder from his fraternity. She always found it s.e.xy for some strange reason. Suddenly, she knew why. She liked the idea of him being a man, not some cardboard cutout of one. Cain was a man. She could tell.

"C'mon...let me show you how it's done," he said, tucking one end of his s.h.i.+rt in his back pocket. She nodded, following.

"Hey, can we take a break, like... like seriously, geez!" she panted, hands to knees. He chuckled. A soft light laugh, not one he was used to giving. He flexed his back causing his shoulders to broaden and her eyes to narrow. He noticed how her eyes kept going to his sweaty chest. She always looked away when caught.

"You're doing great. Almost done."

"But it's hot as the d.i.c.kens out here."

"That's why we need to get this soil moist before you take on planting this week." He walked away to the garden hose. She told him that she had connected it yesterday to spray down the outer walkway to the terrace. He dragged the green-coiled hose with the nozzle in one hand. He released the spray and she jumped back. He caught how her b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaved and fell when she tried to get out of his aim.

"Why do you have to do that again?" Simone asked.

"To cool it off, for planting."

"Right. It's so hot out here I sure could use it."

He couldn't resist. He adjusted the nozzle to a fine spray and grinned. "You do look a little hot and bothered. Let me help you out."

"Don't-" she gasped as the fine mist enveloped her. Simone screamed. "Turn it off!" She ran toward him instead of away. "Turn it off!" she squealed, fighting with him for control, sending the stream heavenward and causing it to rain all over them. The soil beneath their feet dampened, turning into muddy clunks. The smell of wet earth rose around them as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rubbed up against his chest, her arms stretched upward trying to regain control. She was stronger than he thought.

"Simone, wait!" he laughed.

"No!" she yelled. The front of her tank soaked through to her bare skin beneath, and the points of her nipples brushed his chest. He couldn't help but react to the sensuality uncovered when they had contact. He lost control of the hose and so did she. The hose slipped to the ground and whipped around like a crazed snake, spraying them with water.

"Get it! Get it! Get it!!" she yelled laughing, trying to catch it as he did. Finally he got a hold of it and turned it off. "Now look what you've done!" she said, her braid loose, her face and clothes wet. Oh, yes, he was indeed looking. They froze for a moment. Then laughter bubbled up bright and sunny as the day between them.

"What's the problem, Mrs. Livingston? Afraid of getting wet?" he panted, staring directly at her chest. She tried to playfully hit him but lost her footing in the now slick gra.s.s. He caught her arm but they both went down. She landed on top of him with a gasp. Her silky legs rubbed against him, and he s.h.i.+fted to take advantage.

Something about this woman called to him. Her vitality, her innocence was more than physical. He couldn't name it. Everywhere her body touched him he came alive. He knew she felt his erection when she tensed and went very still. That knowledge, and the taut, unspoken silence hummed in his ears and beat through his blood. She stared down at him, her smile blending into the prettiness of her features. Diamond drops clung to her lashes. Her pouty lips soon became a tense line.

"Ah, I need to get up," she said shyly.

He didn't realize he was holding her and pressing her against him. It just felt so natural to have her on top of him that way. "I apologize." Reluctantly, he disentangled his body from hers. She pushed up to her hands and he sat up simultaneously. Their missed coordinated effort to rise caused her left breast, the point of her nipple, to brush his mouth. He nearly opened it and drew it in. Christ! She was making him crazy.

She reached down, offering him a hand. He rose, covered in wet earth. Together they tried to repair the damage, but there wasn't enough brus.h.i.+ng between them to clean them off.

"Want something to drink? C'mon, I made ice tea earlier. You can have some," she said.

"I can go back home and get a beer." He wiped at his brow. He was trying hard not to notice her wet tank and the transparency that gave a reminder of the large nipples he saw from his bathroom window.

"Don't be silly. My tea is better than a Budweiser." She crossed her arms to keep him from staring at her chest.

"Heineken, not a Bud man," he corrected.

"Whatever, come on." She walked off. Cain wiped his hands on his jeans, watching the move of her hips as she walked, noticing everything from the swell of her perfectly shaped a.s.s in her shorts, to the single stream of sweat or water running down the back of her thighs. Her skin was dark and rich, and he wagered a taste of her sweat would be an even better subst.i.tute for the tea.

"You really are good at this," she said once they went inside. "Give me a sec." She hurried to the laundry room off the kitchen. He took the time to look around her home. The Livingston house had at least five bedrooms and three baths, a full bas.e.m.e.nt; the lower level was the same layout as his. But it was decorated so warmly, so humbly and smelled lived in too.

"Yeah, well like I said my mom had a green thumb."

She reemerged wearing a large t-s.h.i.+rt, effectively covering up. Though her hair was still wet and loose, with twigs and gra.s.s in it, he thought about telling her but it was too cute. "I'm going to the store tomorrow to get the tomatoes and stuff. Can you make me a list of what I need?" she asked. He watched her movements as she washed her hands in the sink, the way the water rolled over her fingers, clearing them from dirt. He watched down to the sudsy lather that followed before she rinsed.

He watched her open and close the refrigerator door. He watched her turn quickly, making her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounce underneath her s.h.i.+rt. He noticed every detail from the way the hairs along her temples lay down in wet swirls, to how tiny beads of moisture rested on the bridge of her nose. He even noticed how her eyes stretched whenever a new idea popped in her head. Everything about her was sensual. Even her voice.

"So, yeah, can you give it to me?"

She had no idea how much he wanted to give it to her.

"Sure, I'll write it down and email it to you. Got an email address?"

She stopped. "Yeah it's easy. "

Cain smiled. "Cute."

"Thank you," she said with slyness to her smile. She poured his tea, sliced a few lemons for garnish and then walked over to him, presenting it to him like he was a king.

"Thank you, Simone."

"Drink. Tell me what you think. Keith hates tea. I'm the only person to drink it. He doesn't like any of the things I like. He has these special tastes. But I like some of the things he does, so it balances out."

Cain drank to keep from responding. It didn't sound like it balanced at all. Sounded like Cain's own prima-donna wife back home who also had special needs. "It's delicious," he said after draining the gla.s.s. He handed it to her. When she reached, their fingers touched with a light brus.h.i.+ng of the tips, but the current that shot through his hand was instant. He wanted more.

She turned from him and went back to the sink. "Can I ask you something?" she said with her back turned.

"Ask me anything," he answered.

"Why do you keep watching me?" She looked back at him. "I'm not talking about last night. I think we should both forget about last night. I just notice, sometimes when we talk, you have this look in your eye."

"Does it bother you?" Cain asked.

"I don't know. I think it should," she said looking away. "I know it should."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"That's not answering my question. Why do you keep watching me?"

"Truth?"

She turned from the sink and nodded. "Yes. The truth."

"I can't stop watching you."

The door closed. Cain looked back to the sound of someone dropping keys and movement through the house. "Simone?"

"In here," she said, trying to fix herself as if she even needed to. She was perfect.

"I called you and you didn't answer the d.a.m.n-" Keith stopped. A look of shock crossed his face to find Cain standing in his kitchen. Keith's eyes travelled over him with no s.h.i.+rt, covered in dirt and sweat. "Cain?"

"Hi. I was just leaving."

"Cain, helped me in the garden," Simone quickly said.

"Garden, what garden?"

"Your wife has talent. She needed help in the yard clearing out some weeds to get ready for a vegetable garden." He looked back at Simone. "I'll send you that list you asked for."

"Thank you. For everything."

"No problem." He looked back to see Keith staring at him. "See you in the office tomorrow."

"Right," Keith said dryly.

Cain walked out, leaving the tension behind. Part of him wanted to stay. He felt the need for the rescue, but it wasn't his place. He had already crossed too many lines.

"How was your day?" she asked, turning away to return the pitcher back to the fridge. His stony silence was deafening. She continued about, cleaning up the lemon and cutlery.

"Why was he in here?" Keith asked.

"Who, Cain? He just told you."

"I don't want him in my house when I'm not home. Do you understand?" Keith asked in a stern tone.

Simone sighed. She looked back. "Is that an order?"

"No, it's a request. It's inappropriate. Besides, he's just coming over here to get close to me."

"Huh? Wait. Get close to you?"

"Of course, they are all fis.h.i.+ng to find out what I'm up to. Let's not give them any ammunition. He's playing nice with you, sweetheart, to pump you for information. I'm going upstairs to shower. Come and join me. You look like you need one," he said walking out.

Simone stood there in disbelief. Her husband comes home to find a tall handsome man with sweaty pecs alone with his wife and he thinks it's about him?

"Simone?"

"No thanks! I need to start dinner," she called back, turning and shaking her head. "Un-f.u.c.king-believable."

The walk upstairs was a short one, despite her attempts to delay it. She ran her hand over the wall, stopping briefly to flip the switch off, throwing the rest of the walkway into darkness. The only light beckoning was the soft lamp glow spilling out of her open bedroom door. Simone crossed her arms. Barefoot, hair drying into long tangles, she drew closer, stopping just a foot outside of her bedroom door. Keith rested against the headboard propped by two thick pillows. s.h.i.+rtless, the sheet bunched about his waist, he revealed the smooth brown cuts of his broad chest. He turned the page of his book. With eyes glued to the author's words, from the tip of his nose rested his gold rimmed Cartier frames. Simone dropped her shoulder to the wall and watched him in silence. She noticed the way he licked the pad of his index finger each time he turned a page, how his brow creased when he read something of interest and the slight nod he gave when he agreed or uncovered the author's meaning in a clever way.

She took him all in.

Six short years ago, this man, her man, got down on one knee in the private dining room of the Four Seasons. That special night he promised to love and cherish her always. He swore it! She could vividly recall struggling to catch her breath when he slipped the biggest canary yellow diamond she'd ever seen on her ring finger. And that feeling, the at-last-he's-mine feeling, overwhelmed her with joy. When asked how she felt, there was only one word she could conjure for friends and family: lucky. Keith Livingston was so smart, so handsome, so accomplished. It was as if G.o.d himself had heard her prayers and answered this one personally. He was the ultimate catch. His mother affirmed all of this when she reluctantly gave her blessing. Simone struggled for his family's final approval. Keith told her she deserved their life, and he deserved her.

But why did he choose her?

Soon after his choice, her life changed. She was thrown into the ultimate pursuit to be proven worthy of his love. From the length of her hair to the wedding gown she wore, everything had to be to his liking. And again, she felt lucky. Her father's love was so stunted and uneven between her and her sister, she always longed to feel that type of security Keith vowed to give her.

One day when she entered her driveway she found his secretary, Stacy, waiting for her. The fantasy was over.

"You coming to bed?" he asked, his eyes lifted above the top of his gla.s.ses. She thought he didn't see her. Of course he did.

"Yes," she said softly.

He continued reading. Simone stepped out of the shadows, heading for her dresser. He never looked up again. She pulled the drawer half open to pluck out her nightgown. Most nights, he preferred she wore nothing, and she did too. Tonight she chose a cotton gown with a prairie hem that covered her ankles. She undressed and redressed in silence. What difference did it make? He didn't see her anymore. Not really. And now she was a failure at getting pregnant. Funny thing was, Keith didn't seem to mind that blemish on his perfect life. It was not like his mother did and not like she did.

She turned to say something but stopped. There was no opening. No way to reach him and warn him of the separation she was feeling without being thrown into an argument that would exhaust them both. No way to verbalize the loneliness she carried for the way they once were. Even if it was all in her head, she wanted it-that perfect man, perfect marriage, perfect family. But Keith wasn't perfect. And she had to stop thinking of him that way. It would save her a lot of grief.

Sighing, she went to the edge of the bed, lifted the bed skirt and pulled her bag from underneath.

"Why are you bringing that to bed?" he grumbled when she rose and sat on her side of the bed. He removed his gla.s.ses, his attention focused on her. "Why are you dressed in that?"

"I'm cold," she answered softly.

"Take it off."

Simone scooted back into the pillows and opened the lid of her laptop. "I want to check my email. See if uh, Kim sent me something."

"I'm ready for bed," Keith protested.

"Then go to sleep."

He closed his book and set it and his gla.s.ses on the nightstand. He turned on his side, rubbing her thighs, unable to get access or reach higher with her legs pressed shut and the laptop blocking the way. "I missed you today. I was waiting up here for you. You took a shower down the hall when we have one in here. I want some p.u.s.s.y."

She continued to try to connect to her email account. "I had to wash my hair; shampoo was in the other bathroom," she said under her breath, ignoring the way he pushed up against her. What would the partners think of his dirty mouth? He wants p.u.s.s.y? Please. She shook her head but held her tongue. He kissed her arm, throwing his leg over hers. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh. "I miss you, babe. Come here... put this away," he said, trying to close her laptop.