The Solitude of Passion (29 page)

I push my hands into Max’s chest before things get too far.

“I’m not sure,” I whisper.

A seam of moonlight falls over him, and he needles me with an intense gaze. He knows what I’m thinking. He knows I’ve propped myself up on the fence, and I can’t seem to find my way down. He’s going to think Mitch won if I tell him I need to clear my head before sleeping with anybody else. I’m not in the habit of depriving Max of his testosterone release, and with his defenses up this probably isn’t the best time to start.

“You think we should do this?” I ask, weak, hardly audible over Max’s heavy breathing. I doubt Max heard me with all that blood pulsating through his veins. He pulls me to the bed with the impression of a smile.

“You’re my wife, Lee,” he whispers it hot in my ear. “This is all we should ever do.” He pulls his hands down over my shoulder, drips down to my thighs, slow as a week in jail. He lands over me gently and distracts me with mind-numbing kisses, his tongue comforting mine in a poetic lingual exchange.

There’s nothing subtle about making love to Max. You can hear his desire—
feel
his cravings. His heart-stopping good looks, his outright nobility has always been like the most potent aphrodisiac. Women fall to their knees around Max Shepherd, always have, always will.

Max pulls his hot mouth down my chest and lands a soft bite over my nipple. His hand dives between my thighs as his fingers work their soft, easy magic. He rolls on top of me, kissing a trail all the way up my ear as he guides himself inside me with one smooth plunge. It’s easy for me to get wound up in this sub-primal carnality—an aggressive barrage of wild copulation as he buries himself in my body. He pushes into me over and over and the headboard picks up his cadence. It knocks into the wall with a violent clap in rhythm with his thrusts.

My eyes spring wide open, and I take in a breath. Shit.

Max wants the entire house, the walls that Mitch constructed, to applaud his efforts.

“Are you kidding?” I hiss, digging my fingers into his back. The headboard continues to explode against the wall as I try to catch my bearings. The noise shoots through the house like a series of gunshots, and Max doesn’t put any effort into softening the blows.

Up until tonight, we had a pillow stuffed behind the headboard because the clatter has the tendency to wake Eli. Never mind the fact Stella once asked why we knocked on our wall all night long. I had to make up some story about Santa’s Elf trying to get inside to see if she was on the naughty list. But tonight, at this moment, the pillow has been forcibly removed, and something tells me this Morse code is being played out especially for Mitch.

“
Max
,” I shout his name then cringe at the thought of Mitch mistaking it for a fit of passion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m loving you, Lee,” he pants into my ear, never breaking his stride.

Shit. A boiling anger rips through me. My arms and legs are pinned under his like he’s done a thousand times before but this feels different. He’s making a point and using my body to do it.

He plunges his tongue into my mouth to somehow convince me to go along with the fornicating display of affection, but I can’t. I go limp and wait for him to finish, all the while thinking of Mitch and the horror of having to listen as Max Shepherd has his way with me in his bed.

Every charged knock sends a spiral of grief through me, although I’m not sure I could ever be mad at Max. A part of me wants to hate him for his childlike tantrum, but I’ve defiled our marriage with Mitch, and all Max ever wanted was my devotion.

“You’re using me,” I whisper in short staccato breaks.

Max collapses over me throbbing and shaking, and I roll him off with no real effort.

He pulls me in and takes in a sharp breath. His chest rumbles, and at first I think he’s laughing. He gives a hard sniff into my neck before pressing in a gentle kiss.

“I’m so sorry, Lee.” His voice breaks as he says it. The shallow reserve of light slices in through the blinds and highlights the wet slick on his cheek as his bright lips quiver in this dim light.

I wrap my arms around his scorching body and release a river of tears into his chest.

It was Mitch who was tortured, and yet here Max and I were sobbing into one another like a pair of infants. The three of us had emerged from Mitch’s captivity damaged beyond recognition, and now nothing will ever be the same.

Mitch

The coffee tastes like it was filtered through cigarette butts. I head outside onto the back patio where I thought Lee and I would log hours, years, sitting side by side staring at the waves. The salted sea air greets me, thick and sticky just the way I remember.

I settle my cup on the table and watch as the surfers try to contend with tiny breaks. The surf is always better down the beach a good mile away at Needles.

My board lies on the side of the house, staring at me, wondering how in the hell life decided to discard us both so efficiently. I’d hit the water to at least sit and think, but after last night’s battle of the rattle, sleep was about as easy to find as Bigfoot. Besides, if I did go out, the only way I might truly find some inner peace is to drown.

The steady thump that trembled through the house buzzes in my mind like a horror movie. I can still hear the slam of drywall cracking overhead, the vibrations shot through the wood beams like a tuning fork. I tried not to think about it, but the visual came at me like a flashflood, and I couldn’t get out in time to escape.

Shit. I slap my hand down over the table and my mug startles to attention.

Did Lee want that? Did she really want him fucking her in our bed while the walls belted out a tune for me? Hell, what about Stella and Eli? I don’t doubt for a minute it didn’t wake those kids. For a moment I thought about grabbing a butcher knife and dismembering Max for the hell of it. Although, I doubt a jury of my peers would believe Max was attacking her, but it might have been worth a shot.

I toss my bagel across the sand at a flock of pigeons nearby, nailing one in the head.

What the hell is Lee thinking? If the roles were reversed and I had married some other woman—correction, some other woman who I
knew
was using me as a means of posthumous revenge—I would’ve happily filed for divorce by now. How is the math so different with Max in the equation? I would have thought she’d kick him in the face trying to get him out the door, toss his crap out the window in a river of wardrobe vomit. What in the world is keeping him safely tucked in my bed at night?

I flex my hands behind my neck and sink into my chair.

I bet his witch of a mother cast a spell over Lee, and with my luck the damn thing is working.

“Morning.” Lee clanks her coffee down next to mine. Her hair is tousled in vanilla waves, and she’s sporting dark half moons beneath her eyes. I’m not sure why, but they offer me reassurance. Maybe she lost some sleep in the aftermath or maybe they just figured out how to turn the bed on mute and Max continued with his aggressive assault.

I inspect her further, her face swollen and red in patches. Hell, maybe she was crying. Not that I want Lee up all night weeping rivers, but a night or two of abstinence would sure as hell be nice. Or maybe this is the part where she tells me she hates me and wishes I would leave. A part of me half-expects Max to clock me before throwing me into the shallow grave Stella confessed to digging for me.

“You look beautiful.” My voice breaks like the pussy I’m panning out to be as I brace myself for the news.

She falls into the seat next to me before running her finger over the rim of her mug. Her eyes have a difficult time connecting with mine, and my stomach explodes in a vat of bile over what it might mean.

“I’m exhausted,” it comes from her hoarse, threadbare from a wild night in another man’s arms. Actually, I would have preferred just about any other man. At one point last night I thought I heard her shout his name. I told myself it was just the wind—that Lee would never lose herself in ecstasy to anyone but me, but Eli refutes that theory, and apparently so did the headboard.

“I was up kind of late, myself.” I stretch my arms over my head a moment and take in the brine. “Maybe we can catch a nap.” I don’t mean for it to come out as sarcastic as it does. Truth is, I miss the mornings we spent in bed after a long night of our own passionate exchanges. We would make breakfast and just hang out.

She takes up my hand and covers it with both of hers. Her eyes light up like two red poppies as her lips quiver. “I’m so sorry about last night.”  Tears brim to the surface. “Max…” She shakes her head in disgust. “I got this card.” She forces an anemic smile as she changes the subject. “It’s a referral to a psychologist. I heard great things about him. He’s practically a saint.” She smiles as though this qualifies him to perform a miracle and judging by our all around crap situation he just might have to. “I want you to come. I think I need some help figuring things out. Max will be there.”

A psychologist?

My heart thumps in my chest.

Lee is ready to involve the professionals. She’s calling out all the wrong authorities when all we really need is one bloodsucking attorney. If we play our cards right, we could walk away with Shepherd and boot Max off to that Cadillac graveyard along with his useless brother. Not that Lee would ever agree, not that I’d have the balls to do it myself now that Stella is equally taken with him.

“Absolutely. Whatever you need.” I want to say,
what makes this decision so damn difficult for you, Lee?
“I love you. Do you still love me?” The words shake from my lips without my permission.

“Yes!
God,
yes.” She dives over me with a hug and squeezes my chest so tight I’m caught off guard by how strong she is. The sweet scent of her perfume is identical to the one she wore five years ago. “We’re going to straighten this whole thing out. I promise, I will always love you, Mitch.”

My stomach clinches. That sounded an awful lot like a kiss off. Like a kinder way of saying, it was nice knowing you.

“I’ll always love you, too.” My eyes blur with fresh tears, but I don’t let them fall.

“I can’t sleep with you anymore,” she whispers through tears. Lee pulls back and stares down at her hands.

“Says who?” A fresh sting ignites over my skin as if her words unleashed an electrical jolt right into my heart. “Your husband?”

Her eyes rise to meet mine with her head still bowed. She looks afraid, like I might hit her. God, what if that’s Shepherd’s moronic way of keeping her
in line
.

“Does he hit you?” It comes out a little more aggressive than I mean it to.

“No.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Max would never touch me like that.” She spears me with a look as she jumps to his defense.

“So he said you can’t sleep with me?” I’m almost amused by Shepherd’s insecurity.

Lee blinks into the wind without affirming those words for a second time.

“He’s my husband,” she says it low, the roar of the waves swallow up the indiscretion.

“I’m your husband,” it comes out defensive. “And I say you can’t sleep with Max.” I’ve never asserted some asshole sense of authority with Lee before, not that she’d take me seriously if I did. I’m not sure it came out authoritative either—sounded more like a pathetic plea on my part.

A weak smile slides up her cheek as she takes me in. I wonder how long ago she stopped thinking of me as her anything.

“I’m not going to sleep with Max,” she says it robotic. “That outburst was for your benefit, not mine.” She closes her eyes a moment and swallows hard. “I’d better go inside and get dressed.”

I watch as she heads into the house and passes Max in the kitchen without so much as a glance.

Give Max enough rope, and he’ll hang himself. Stupid people always do.

He stares me down until I turn my face toward the murky Pacific. I take in a lungful of sea air as a palate cleanse for my sick heart. Maybe this psychologist will be the road to recovery that Lee and I so desperately need. Max and his manipulative superpowers—they won’t last long. The scales will eventually drop from her eyes, and she’ll run screaming back into my arms. She said she would cut Max off. I hope his dick dries up and falls off.

Things look promising already.

Not long after Lee takes the kids to school, I meet up with Colt downtown, and he helps me get a cell phone. My mother put me on her Amex card, so I feel right about sixteen again. When we finally make our way back to Mom’s, I find a big bag of clothes waiting for me in the entry.

“Thanks.” I shuffle through a few items before replacing them in the bag. I’ll look like a preppy freshman, first day of school, but I’m not fighting Mom for her good efforts.

The house still holds the scent of bacon from breakfast, so I meander over to the kitchen in hopes there’s still some left.

“How are things going?” Her heels clack as she strides alongside me.

“They’re going.” I open the fridge and inspect the wares before pulling out the makings for a killer sandwich. “Lee managed to get us signed up to meet with a head doctor. She thinks a good shrink is a step in the right direction.” A groan rattles in my chest. “Hopefully the three of us will be able to work things out.”