Hold Me Close. Megan Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ in an hour or so. Aren’t you cold?” Effie went to the fridge to pull out two cans of clear cola that she poured into glasses and held both up to the light without a second thought. She turned to hand him one but paused at Heath’s chagrined head shake. “What?”

      “You do it, too,” he told her.

      She frowned and set the glass on the counter with a thump hard enough to splash the contents out. “Yes. Well. Not from something you made for me.”

      Heath wrapped the towel around his waist again and took up the sandwich to bite into it, chewing slowly. It eased her a little to watch him do it. They weren’t going to keep fighting, then. At least not about that.

      He ate slowly, deliberately, pulling the bread and cheese apart into bite-size pieces, but she didn’t call him on it. There were some things that would never go away, no matter how long ago they’d become a habit or how you tried to get rid of them. Like the way she stood even though she had no cigarette.

      “I have some cookies if you’re still hungry,” she told him, but Heath rubbed his belly and shook his head.

      When he held out his hand to her, she took it and let him pull her closer. Even sitting on the bar stool he was a little too tall to rest his head on her chest, but he managed anyway. He nestled against her, his hands on her butt and the heat of his breath seeping through the thin material of her T-shirt. Her dress had gone into the washer with his clothes.

      They stayed that way for a minute or so before she tried to retreat, but Heath held her close. She sighed and shut her eyes, stroking the silky thickness of his dark hair. It had been too long since they’d been alone together like this.

      And why? Stupid reasons. A disagreement that had turned into an argument, and both of them too stubborn to give in until enough time had passed that they could pretend it hadn’t happened.

      Heath nuzzled against her. “Can I stay until Polly gets home from school?”

      “I’m taking her to my mother’s.”

      He looked up at her face, his expression so deliberately blank she knew he suspected something was coming that he didn’t want to hear. She didn’t have to say it, Effie thought suddenly. She didn’t even have to do it. She could stop herself. If she wanted to.

      She traced his eyebrows with her fingertips, then cupped his face. “I’m going out later. Polly’s going to stay overnight with my mom.”

      Heath didn’t flinch. He turned his face to press his mouth into her palm but didn’t kiss her. Not quite.

      “Okay,” he said.

      “Heath.” Effie tried to let go of him, but his hands came up, quick as spit, to grab her wrists and hold her in place. He didn’t open his eyes or turn his head. His breath was hot and wet on her skin. “Stop it.”

      “With who?” he asked.

      “You don’t know him.”

      “Oh, I know him. He wears polo shirts and khaki pants,” Heath said with a sneer. “He works in an office and drives a sedan.”

      Effie twisted in his grip, but Heath held her tight.

      “It’s none of your business.”

      “Has he met Polly?”

      She’d met her date on LuvFinder. He’d messaged her first. They always did. Since signing up about six months ago, Effie had gone on a bunch of first dates, and this one would make it a baker’s dozen. “Of course he hasn’t.”

      Heath released her. “Are you going to fuck him? Oh, wait. That’s why you invited me over. So you wouldn’t have to.”

      She slapped his cheek. Lightly, not enough to turn his head. He didn’t flinch. She cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes.

      “Fucking you now won’t make any difference in what I do tonight.”

      Heath put his hands up to circle her wrists without pulling her hands from his face. “You’ll do what you want to do, Effie. You always have. All I can do is wait for you. Right?”

      “I wish you wouldn’t!” Effie cried and pulled herself free of him. When he grabbed for her again, she was ready for him and danced out of his grasp. Backing up, she hit another of the bar stools with her foot and stumbled.

      Heath caught her by the upper arms, holding her tight until she stopped trying to get away. “But I do. You know I do, Effie. I always do and always will. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

      “You have to stop,” Effie said.

      This time he was the one who went to his knees. He yanked down her cotton pajama bottoms and her panties, and when she tried to slap him again, to shove him away, Heath held her wrists at her sides. He pushed himself between her legs. The swipe of his tongue opened her to him.

      She struggled for a moment, her wrists aching in the cuffs of his fingers. The right had been broken and left too long without proper setting. It hurt more than the other one, and his grip was looser. Because he knew. Heath knew everything about her. But he didn’t let her go, even when she pulled. He pressed his mouth against her, his tongue finding her clit without hesitation.

      She didn’t climax so much as she unravelled. Sharp and fierce, the pleasure overtook her until she gasped and sagged, her knees weak. Heath let go of her wrists to support her as he looked up at her. He licked his lips.

      “I will never stop loving you,” he told her. “If we live a thousand lifetimes, I will never stop.”

      Effie disengaged herself from him, pulling up her panties and pj bottoms and stepping back. She wanted him to get off his knees, but he stayed there. She turned away so she didn’t have to look at him.

      “We don’t have a thousand lifetimes. We only have one, Heath. Only this one.”

      He stood then. She continued refusing to look at him. She thought he might touch her, and she braced for it, but he didn’t.

      “Then this one has to be enough, doesn’t it?”

      She’d told him to leave a dozen times or more in the past. She’d screamed it at him. Begged him. She’d been polite and cold. None of it worked, not in the long-term. He came back to her, or she came back to him, one the waves and one the shore. So this time she said nothing, letting the silence grow between them until he had no choice but to sigh.

      “Tell Polly I love her. I’ll call her later. Maybe take her to the movies. If that’s okay with you,” Heath said finally from the doorway, and when she wouldn’t answer him, “Effie.”

      Still she said nothing, not trusting herself to find a voice that didn’t shake and break under the weight of her emotions. She waited until he left, not slamming the door behind him but letting it shut with a slow, solid and undeniable click.

      Heath’s love for her had been as solid and undeniable as the closing of that front door for almost twenty years. The problem was not that Effie didn’t believe him when he told her that he would never stop. The problem was that she did.

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