The Righteous and The Wicked (16 page)

“Eric, you need to go. You were so cruel to me.” She wipes a traitorous tear from her eye.

“Emma, please, I need you to forgive me. I want to try to be good. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I can’t fight it alone. I need
you
, Emma . . . I need you to help me.” He takes both of her hands in his, interlacing their fingers, trying to bind himself to her in some way.

She pulls away from him. “How am I supposed to help you? I can’t take any more pain, Eric. I want you to leave.”

They stand poised for battle, each unwilling to give in. Eric makes the first move, grabbing her hips. “I’m
not
leaving.”

He touches her face, and she flinches. “Emma, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

He leans his forehead against hers. It almost hurts her to be near him, but in spite of her anger, she can’t fight her desire. His mouth is so close. She surrenders, and brings her lips to his. They are warm and wet; she brushes them with hers.

Eric kisses her back. He cradles her face and feels her soften against him. Touching her this way alleviates the misery he felt without her. All he wants is to stay with her, and keep touching her. He picks her up, pressing her back against the door and kisses her harder. The feel of her body causes him to stiffen. As her legs wrap around him, he reaches behind her and turns the doorknob.

He stumbles into the foyer as he carries her, and their kiss continues—unbreakable—hungry and desperate. They make it as far as the stairs. Eric lays her down just before them on soft carpet. He descends upon her, kissing her neck, rubbing the length of his body against hers. He wants to give himself to her, to replace all her pain with pleasure.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

What she has merely fantasized about is reflected back at her: Eric—craving her, just her. The front door is still open, and anyone could walk in or see them. This private yet public display feeds Emma’s inner voyeur. She’s aroused by the way he’s touching her. It escalates the ache she has for him, and the desire to feel him inside her is all she can think of.

She provokes him, fanning the flame. “You are
not
forgiven.”

He removes his lips from her body and kneels before her. He runs his hands over her bruised and scraped calf; he kisses her knees, and caresses the soft, gorgeous skin of her thighs. He wants to worship her, to adore her for accepting him as he is. He slides the hem of her dress up, and then his hands are on the lace of her panties.

“Eric, wait . . .” She tries to stop his hands with hers, but the look he gives her makes her think twice. She doesn’t want to stop him, but she knows this is his drug. It would be wrong to enable his addiction with her selfish desire.

Eric is a single-minded beast. “No. No waiting.”

She gives in to him, and her hands help his to slide the thin barrier between them from her body. He kneels between her legs, and she’s exposed to him. Her body is beautiful and he feels unworthy of the sight before him. He wants to take her right here on the stairs, but he won’t. Earning her forgiveness is his goal. He licks his lips and lowers his head between her thighs.

Emma gasps before he has even touched her. The anticipation of what he’s about to do is driving her out of her mind. She pants. “Wait. Eric, shut the door. Turn out the light . . .”

He grins at her. “I think we both know that you don’t want me to do that.” She may know his secret, but now she realizes that he knows hers, too.

She runs her fingers into his hair and he holds onto her hips as he stares into her lust-filled eyes. Then, finally, he tastes her. Emma throws her head back, gasping and moaning. The space between her legs feels like pulsing fire. “Eric, that feels so good . . .”

He slides his tongue around her and her body quivers. She pulls and squeezes at his hair and his hand slithers up under her dress and grabs her breast. Her nipple is hard and he takes it between his fingers. He licks her and lets his eager hands roam her body. Her magnificent skin is hot and damp with sweat.

Emma moves her hips in rhythm with the way she wants to feel him, frantic with lust. “Eric, please. I want you.”

He pulls away from her and moves up her body. He kisses her neck and she feels his hard cock press against her, through his jeans.

“I want to give that to you, but not now. I can’t now. I just want to make you feel good. I want you to forgive me. I need you to. I need you to save me, Emma.”

He confesses what’s in his heart. His hot breath is on her ear, and her neck, as he rubs his hips against hers. He kisses her lips, her cheek, her collarbone. She slides her hands over his shoulders, his arms, his chest. She longs for him, but feels guilty for tempting him this way.

“We don’t have to do this.”

He takes her face in his hands and looks deep into her eyes. “I’m not finished. I want to give you more.” He slides the top of her dress down off her shoulders and kisses her breasts. She’s soft and trembling and he’s enraptured. Something deep inside him stirs as he savors every sound and movement that she makes. He admires her and kisses her body, and then once again he tastes her warmth. He moves his mouth on her in ways she has never known. She lets her body lead, rather than her mind. Pleasure surges through her and the intensity of his touch causes her to cry out oaths she has never uttered before. He caresses her slit with his tongue, and moans against her flesh.

He’s grateful she’s letting him be with her this way, and is amazed at his restraint. Instead of seeking out his own selfish pleasure, he’s giving it to her. This is a first, something he has never done before. He’s satisfied by her satisfaction; her wanton cries of joy are quenching his thirst.

In the back of his mind, he knows this feeling is fleeting and he will crave her or someone else again soon, but for now, he feels content to listen to Emma say his name, to be the reason she trembles. He works her body with his skilled mouth and hands. When he slips his long fingers inside her, Emma shatters. His cock throbs with need, but he’s not thinking of himself. He watches her face as she comes for him. He wants to make her come again. He goes down on her beautiful flesh; worshiping her with his hands and mouth, submerged in her taste and the sound of her pleasure.

Emma is overwhelmed by the unending and glorious bliss. She writhes against him, and calls out his name. “Eric, yes . . .”

“
Eu adoro você
,”
⁴
he whispers, as he adores her body with abandonment.

She feels his tongue slip inside her. She’s amazed and awed at the depth of sin she’s indulging in, but right now, this rapture is her religion. Her prayers are for Eric never to stop giving her this ecstasy. Right now, his lips are her savior. And somewhere in the midst of her repeated throes of deep and ardent passion, Emma forgives Eric.

His fingers trace an unknown pattern on her shoulder and her face is pressed into his chest as they lie together, languid, at the foot of the stairs. The sweet spring breeze blows the front door open just a bit farther, and then it squeaks back to its original position. She can see the new crater in the porch, and her leg still hurts, but that sting is overshadowed by the delight she feels right now, lying content in Eric’s arms. She knows this feeling will soon pass. It can’t last, and that impending disappointment looms over their resting bodies.

She allows herself to breathe him in, to seal this moment. She realizes it was Eric who did those things to her body—not Stormy. Stormy would have taken her, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. She’s satisfied from the pleasure he has given her, but he’s still rock hard against her thigh.

The taste of her lingers on his lips as he rests with her beside him. Her delicate pale legs are tangled with his, and the torment he lives with has lulled. The inner war he fights is quiet, but his physical need to be inside someone has not been satisfied. The spell Emma has cast on him saturates the air, and he wants this moment and this feeling to persist, but he knows it can’t. Abstaining from taking Emma the way he wanted to has been the hardest thing he has ever done. But he did it.

Emma breaks the peaceful silence. “I’m not stupid, Eric. I know how this has to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want you to know that I’ve already been in love. I was married, and I know that’s not what this is. We can try to be friends, but nothing more.”

He shifts his position so he can see her eyes. He tries to memorize her face and the way she makes him feel, because he knows this can’t happen again. She deserves more than he can ever give to her. He can’t just fuck her and forget her, and he’s not capable of being with just one woman. Emma deserves love, and that’s something Eric has never felt. It’s something he’s convinced he can’t feel. He’s incapable of that kind of depth. He’s too selfish. Still, he feels
something
when he’s near her and it’s not self-preservation. With Emma, he doesn’t want to just take, but wanting to do something is not the same as doing it, and Eric knows that. He will continue to wrestle with his demons. He wants to tell her she’s wrong, but he’s not sure that she is.

Chapter Sixteen

Ms. Santori puts on her glasses and opens her book. “Okay, young ladies, it’s story time. Please clear your desks. You may put your head down if you wish, but please keep your ears open.”

Emma reads a short story to twenty-seven lovely, but fidgety, little girls. She reads about a tree that gave everything it had to a little boy. The words roll off her tongue and settle on her heart. She reads about giving everything you have to someone you love—everything—until there is nothing left. She stands at the front of the class and reads, but in her mind, she sees Eric’s face. She sees a vision of how she wants to give herself to him. She wants to give and Eric’s designed to take, but she’s not sure if she’s prepared to give this way.

As Emma daydreams of Eric, he kneels beside a park bench, stretching out his hamstrings, preparing for a game of basketball with Sean.

“So you’re out of here once the house is sold?” Sean ties his shoe and grabs the ball.

“That was the plan,” Eric answers.

“And did the plan change?” Sean bounces the ball back and forth between his legs, waiting for Eric to finish stretching.

“No. I just—I never stay in one place for very long, you know? Bad habit, I guess.” Eric pushes his right arm across his chest, stretching out his shoulder. Then he jogs toward Sean.

“Maybe you should stop moving around. I know it’s part of your job, but you must have a shit-ton of money by now. You should put down some roots.” Sean takes a shot and the ball bounces off the rim. “Roots could be good.”

Eric catches the rebound and sinks his jump shot. His thoughts turn to Emma. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Roots . . . ”

That afternoon, Emma plays the events that took place between Eric and her over and over in her mind like a movie. She feels immense lust, and she knows that it’s wrong. She walks past the church as she leaves work and feels compelled to not only confess what has already happened, but what she hopes will happen between them in the future. She kneels before the screen between her and Father O’Hara like a robot, and engages in the ritual of confession.

“I committed adultery.”

“And are you sorry for your sin?” There is no emotion in his voice.

“I’m sorry I’ve offended God, but I’m not sorry it happened. Father, I feel drawn toward this man and it’s more than physical. I feel I can help him, and that’s why he was brought into my life.”

“And can you be of help to this man without sinning again?”

Emma would like to say yes, but in her heart she knows the answer is no. Sin is unavoidable. Sin is the answer.

Sunday afternoon. The day is beautiful and warmer than it has been yet this year. Having decided to make another attempt at friendship, Eric and Emma capitalize on the nice weather by biking together. This time they ride down a different path and small white clouds float through the blue above them. The forest is filled with life. Golden reeds brush against Emma’s hand, and she lifts herself up off the bike as she follows Eric down the bumpy trail.

He stops, and she pulls up alongside him. “Look, through the trees. Is that a river over there?” he asks.

Emma follows his pointed finger, and smiles at what she sees. Shielded by the woods are hints and glimmers of shimmering water. “Wow, it is. I never even knew that was there.”