How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things (7 page)

Matilda

Inside me, the adventurous find
Quests and treasures of every kind.
Trolls, goblins, orcs, and more await
Within my closed walls for
All those that wish to visit me.
Your hands are the key
To secrets untold,
And your mind will unlock the door.
What am I?
 

A Book

Complicated. How many times is he going to use that word in relation to me? Obviously it’s so complicated that he walked out of the shower with a hard-on weeks ago without doing a darn thing. Then as days passed, we flirted and flirted some more. Then I got stung by that horny bee. He saw all of me, spread wide and vulnerable, and there’s been nothing since the stinger removal. Maybe he didn’t like what he saw. I can’t bear to bring it up. And, I’m not going to depress myself over the fact that I got a ram off today, but can’t get Balthazar’s lips anywhere near me. Now there’s a thought that could sink a girl’s confidence.

He’s in town for errands, I hate to bother him, but since he’s been acting so nicely today, I suppose I can shoot him a text and ask him to stop at the drug store for a few things.

Me
: Could you pick up some tampons and C batteries please? Thnx.

Balthazar
: What for?

Me
: For my vagina. Duh!

Balthazar
: You put batteries up there?

Me
: Yeah…I enclose them in a wondrous, plastic baton that vibrates and brings me copious amounts of joy!

Balthazar
: No

Me
: Seriously? No dinner and nothing sweet!

Balthazar
: I don’t buy that crap

Me
: Tampons or batteries?

Balthazar
: I’ll get the batteries

Me
: But you won’t buy tampons? Too manly to buy them? Do you need my foot shoving your ass into this century? Christ how much testosterone is in you?

Balthazar
: How many times a week do you do it?

Me
: That’s none of your business perv!

Balthazar
: It’s a math question. I’m trying to figure out how fast you burn through those suckers. You want 4 or 24?

Me
: 8 and tampons. Pretty please, with something sweet on top!

Balthazar
: Bloody hell

Me
: Exactly and soon. That’s why I’m asking. Thank you, tough, burly man.

It has to be rounding ninety degrees as I take the twins out to the lake for a little adventure before our fishing trip. We each have a bucket for collecting nature finds. As we stroll along the edge of the lake, we come across oodles of tiny turtle hatchlings. I scream at the sight, this is a nature jackpot! Needing some vet advice, I text Duke. He tells me that, while we
should
leave them alone, a day would be fine to keep some turtles in my bathtub.

The three of us and our dozen turtles head back to the farmhouse, chattering as we toddle along. After scrounging through the kitchen for makeshift turtle islands our little creatures can rest on, we head upstairs. I dump my bucket of lake water into the bathtub once I’ve plugged the drain, the boys immediately unload their turtles. Each tiny creature gets named and gently touched by the twins’ tiny wandering fingers. I’m in love with the turtles, but the boys own my heart.

After laying Jinx and Jax down for a nap, I decide to take a bath. Tiptoeing across the hall, I head toward Balthazar’s bathroom. As the tub fills, I notice a copy of Keats sitting on his marble countertop. Keats? My goodness. Does he read romantic poetry? I can’t help but smile, picturing him naked in the tub, a beer in one hand and Keats in the other. This is too good.

I scurry downstairs and open a bottle of champagne. “Why ever not,” I mutter as I warily take the steps back up, one at a time.

Eye patch, tattoos, muscles, handsome daddy, and poetry lover? I pray that he doesn’t forget my batteries.

With opera blasting in my earbuds, I enjoy a hot tub full of bubbles, while I sip champagne, grin, and read Balthazar’s copy of Keats.

I have so much of you in my heart.

“Me too,” I mutter.

An M is scribbled next to the quote. I read it again and again
. In my heart
? I search for more markings. M? For me? I wish.

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour...

Again, an M. I pray that he reads this and thinks of me.

I never was in lov
e—
yet the voice and the shape of a woman has haunted me these two days. 

“Oh, god.” I exhale as my pulse races. One long sip of champagne and my heart skips into a sprint. Another M along with yesterday’s date. Holy shit! I flip forward a few pages and find nothing. Then I turn to a page that’s dog-eared.

I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.

Today’s date, M, and the word…
please
.

Once I’ve finished reading the quote for the third time—aloud—I look up
. Shit!
So maybe I’ve just died a little. Balthazar.

Sinking under the water, I pray that the remaining bubbles cover my body. My nipples, though, can’t hide for anything. My breasts act like buoys that push them out of the water—little, screaming, pink ninjas. I don’t shriek—the boys are sleeping in the room next door.

I yank my earbuds out, eager to hear him speak. Maybe he’ll say a quote from Keats.
Wishful thinking?
He says nothing for longer than I can stand. But he does look at me. All of me. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Maybe he’ll get undressed and climb into the tub with me?
Please,
I will him
.

Nothing. Fuck. Maybe he’s thinking something else, like
My god, she is lovely naked.
I want so many things right now. And I’m pretty sure I’m about to get none of them as his fingers tap the countertop, where I found the book. His eye remains on me, all over me, constantly roving, probing. Why is he saying nothing? I’m wordless—for once. I don’t know what to say. Maybe I’ll faint and slip under the water. He’ll feel helpless and need to give me mouth-to-mouth. Or I could cry wolf with chest pains to see if he’ll place his hands on mychest to fee
l…
where it hurts.

Okay, then. He’s still looking. Still tapping. I’m tapping too. Aaaaannndd feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Awkward, even. I decide to do the ladylike thing and fill the empty space with chatter. Oddly, the question I planned on asking comes out
differently
than it should have. What I meant to say was,
do you want me to cook a big lunch for the fishing trip?

Weird thing is, it comes out, “Do you have a big cock I can have for lunch?”

“Matilda?”

“Oh, fairy fucking dust!” I mutter as I reach over the side of the tub to grab the mostly full champagne bottle. I want to say,
fuck me
, but in my present state of affairs, he might take it literally. Not that I would mind. But, for the sake of saving face, I ask, “Would you care to get drunk with me?”

He says nothing for a little longer. Is this punishment for using his bathroom or for reading his Keats? Both?

I sink deeper in the tub when he says, “Have you placed any ads in the paper for a nanny yet? We’ll need to get you on that, since that’s why your father sent you here in the first place.”

Get me on that?
I can think of one thing we need to get me on. A nanny is not it.

“Use your own bathroom next time. And get your own books. The bookmobile is full of ’em.”

I cross my arms and Keats over my chest as I sit up. “My tub is occupied, so I thought it would be okay. You know, if I came in here and used yours.” I hug my knees while crossing my ankles, realizing how difficult it is to hide in clear bath water when you’re naked.

“It’s no longer occupied,” he grumbles as he walks over to me.

              “What did you do with them? The turtles… The boys and I…”

He yanks the book from my hand. “Now you can
come
in your own bathroom.”

A manic frozen smile forms on my lips. “What?”

“Flushed ’em.” He walks out with a small, derisive laugh, taking my air with him as he closes the door.

His feet clomp down the stairs. I burst into tears, picturing the tiny turtles swooshing down the toilet because of me. What was I thinking? I have to save them. I hurry out of the tub, my brain logic-free as I clutch the knob, fling the door open, and throw myself into the hallway. With the grace of a greased cow, I fly down the stairs, landing sprawled out on my belly in the kitchen.

I groan. I can’t turn over. It would hurt too much, in every way imaginable. My bruised ego high on the list of “hurting.”

“Imagine you’re in a dark room.” Balthazar saunters over. His boots are one inch from my face. “How do you get out?” he says.

“You stop imagining,” I mutter after a bit of thought. I hate that I’m on my belly, on the floor, naked, at his feet.

“I put them in the lake,” he says quietly. “I’m not that cruel, regardless of what you might think of me.”

I peek at him as I whisper a meek, “Thanks,” while he pulls his T-shirt off his back.

“The things you needed are on your bed. All of them.” He squats in front of me, slides his hands under my arms, then picks me up.

I don’t even try to cover myself. While examining my bruised body, his gaze stops on my breasts more than once—three or four times maybe.

“You okay?” he asks, taking my chin in his fingers.

I nod, swallowing a quiet sob. I’m the face of mortification. Yay me.

He slides his T-shirt over my head and down my body. His knuckles brush my thighs exactly where the shirt stops and the lingering feel of them twists my stomach into knots. I’m not sure why, since I’m convinced he covered me because he can’t bear to look at me any longer. If only I didn’t crave him the way I do.

When his hands leave, I replace them with my own, playing at the edge of the shirt. Stepping closer, he tucks a chunk of hair behind my ear. I wet my lips in anticipation of something… False hope. Or is it? Am I tricking myself into thinking he’s looking at me with want?

I exhale as I drop my head, and when my eyes move down his body, I stop, becoming aware of his abdomen as it moves. Then his chest as it expands in a deep breath. I map out his muscles and the tattoos that wrap them. God, to be this close—inches from him. So close that I smell him: sweat and a trace of something sexy, warm…musky.

His thumbs trace my cheekbones as his fingertips rest alongside my neck. Can he feel my pulse, the way it’s starting to soar? Can he see the bob in my throat as I swallow over the thick emotions twisting through me? One finger runs down the curve of my neck, stopping at my collarbone to follow it. As he tips my face up, I wonder what his gaze might say.

I stare at his one sapphire eye. I want to believe my gut and all the things it’s telling me along with the signs I’m seeing on him. The jog of his throat, his parted lips, the way his tongue keeps finding the corner of his mouth as if it’s waiting for something. My mouth? My tongue? A nameless emotion settles inside me. At the same time, it offers a dose of bravery, so I reach one hand out to touch him. As my fingertips land on his chest, he draws in a shaky breath.

“Matilda, what do you want?” His words are soft and caring.

“Not to hurt you or the boys,” I answer. Honestly.

His fingers find mine and every nerve inside my body tingles, as his forefinger and thumb glide across my skin, reaching the tips then slowly sliding to the valleys of my hand. My heart soars as he brings my hand to his mouth then licks the same line up and down each finger intimately. Never have I felt so many sensations come alive at once. His tongue is electric. Or maybe that’s just him.

He closes his eye as he pins his forehead to mine. “You understand I want this. It’s just…”

“It’s complicated. I know,” I whisper, wishing it weren’t so. “Really, I do.”

              He continues to hold my hands in his and kisses them as he asks, “Do you hurt anywhere?”

In my heart.

I sense him nearing the moment he’ll walk away. I’m sure of it, this can’t happen because I’m here to find him someone else. A real wife. This is his way of letting me down easy. This. Us. Is too complicated. It’s the truth, and it pains me. I wish it didn’t. Wish I weren’t interested in him. There are too many reasons we would never work. My father is a wall between us. Balthazar needs this farm, for his boys, for his future. I live in Paris. Why was I put here, in this situation? This is going to kill me.

Or maybe it won’t,
I think again as his breath hits my face. I close my eyes, and his kiss lands there first—on one lid, then the other, followed by my cheeks when his hands encircle my neck and pull me toward him.