We sit facing each other, suds enrapturing us in white froth. So many unspoken words between us, yet neither of us can articulate what is on our minds. The questions are rhetorical; we know the answers in our hearts. But this dream, where we are just an ordinary couple in an ordinary world is so much better than our reality. We’re not ready to wake up. Though we know this dream will eventually manifest into a nightmare.
“You don’t look 25,” I say thoughtfully.
“Oh? How old do I look?” Dorian is humoring me, a willing participant in my dangerous game.
“Maybe 28. No older than 30. You’re too mature, too certain of yourself for 25.”
“Is that right?” Dorian takes a handful of warm water and lets it trickle down onto my shoulder.
“And you’re way too successful. Do you even know any 25 year olds? Most of them don’t own salons and luxury apartment complexes.”
“But 28 year olds do?” Dorian says with a sexy half-smile.
“I don’t know,” I shrug. Keep him talking, I think to myself. I bite the bullet and formulate my next question. “The eye thing… What is that? Hypnotism?”
Dorian strokes my erect nipples with his thumbs. I sigh at the contact. He leans forward and kisses the base of my throat. “Something like that,” he murmurs into my neck.
“And you can do that to me whenever you want?” I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his lips and fingers.
“As long as you’re open to me. Which can be difficult when you’re being so guarded.” Dorian’s lips travel to my jaw. He pulls me towards him, sloshing water onto the bathroom floor. I place my legs around his hips.
“Must be pretty tricky stuff. How could one learn something like that? Is there an online class? A manual? Eye-fuckery for Dummies?” I chuckle. I lean forward and let my lips taste his chest once again. His skin smells fresh and exotic. Like crystal clear waters off a tropical island.
“Nothing to learn. You’re already a natural.” Dorian pulls me closer into him, grasping my ass and scooting me to meet his hardness. I wrap my legs around his waist.
“How do you know that?” I ask nuzzling his neck. My submerged lower half begins a slow grind.
“Because you’ve done it to me. Last night,” Dorian states plainly as if we’re discussing the weather. He gently sucks my earlobe, gripping my behind and following my rhythm.
“I did?” I ask, shock resonating in my voice but not halting my carnal dance. It feels too good.
“Yes. It was the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced. But as much as I enjoyed it, you shouldn’t do it again.” Dorian’s own hips rise and fall, causing incredible friction. “You’re not ready. It takes too much out of you. Hence, your breakdown earlier.”
“But you fixed me.”
I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling a bit. Dorian gasps as I tug his disheveled locks. “I did. But not without consequence. You drain me.” He nibbles my neck, letting his teeth graze it. Then he gently bites down.
“Mmmm, Dorian,” I breathe. “Let me make you better then.”
“You do, baby. Just touching you. Smelling you. Kissing you.”
Dorian then lifts me and eases me onto his hard thickness. I gasp at the feeling of absolute, perfect fullness. “Feeling you,” he breathes.
For the next thirty minutes, Dorian and I fix each other. All the shattered pieces of our charades scattered on the bathroom floor, creating a mosaic of pain, lust, deceit, passion, fear. And love. Piece by piece we pick up the shards, trying to recover just a fragment of who we once were. But what is broken can never be as it was; it will never be the same. So we create a new portrait of ourselves and let our secrets become the glue that holds us together. Because if we admit the depths of our depravity, we can never turn back. We won’t be able to pretend anymore. He will know me, and I will know him. And that’s just a risk neither of us are willing to take.
Chapter Twenty Three
“So you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
We’re riding in Dorian’s lavish Mercedes, windows down, music blasting from the speakers. It’s a gorgeous day- a total 180 from yesterday’s depressing dreariness. We were even able to enjoy our breakfast of waffles topped with fresh berries out on the balcony, letting the sunshine kiss the tops of our heads.
“Nope,” Dorian says from the driver’s seat. His dark shades and black V-neck tee make him look every bit like the sexy bad boy I imagined him to be. All that’s missing is a Harley. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He smirks, obviously pleased with himself for making me squirm with excitement.