Forbidden Fruit Ch 02 1

Forbidden Fruit Ch. 2: A Fine Line

I spent weeks after that night, wondering, even agonizing. Where might things have gone if someone hadn't started banging on the door? Luckily you'd locked it as you came in, so there was time to adjust. I jumped up, albeit reluctantly, as you did the tuck in and zip up thing. The mirror beside the door showed that my hair had become a wild mane, and I cursed, glaring at you.

Why must you always mess up my hair? I grabbed a brush, yanking it painfully through tangles a couple of times as I unlocked the door and wandered back to sit on the end of the bed. I sat cross-legged, apparently absorbed in my task as I muttered and winced myself through the process of smoothing out my hair. We hadn't been alone more than half an hour, but still there was suspicion in your ride's eyes as he asked if everything was okay.

I shrugged, glaring at him as I answered. "We were discussing my taste in men, and my lamentable tendency to fall for the Wrong Ones. Are you sure you want to be here for that conversation?" He took the statement for the blatant hint it was, closing the door behind him. No, my ex lover definitely did not want to be involved in that conversation.

You smirked, watching as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. The tangles weren't coming out without a fight and I wasn't in the mood to deal with it. Fighting snarls of hair was, at that moment, the furthest thing from my mind. The nearest thing, of course, was you. The moment was over, the spell broken, and I felt somehow cheated.

You unwound yourself from the chair, feline in your smug satisfaction as you moved to stand over me. I felt a hopeful sense of déjà vu, though I suppose that's the wrong word. Is there a term for when you are hoping that something is a repeat of something you've done before? Ah, well, I guess it doesn't matter… You stood at the edge of the bed and I was just at the right height, but there wasn't time for that…

You seemed about to say something as you put a hand on my shoulder, and then tipped my chin so that I had to look up at you. Your lips parted slightly, but whatever words might have come were forestalled by another knock at the door. The ride again, wanting to go home, saying it was late. We hugged goodbye, unable to do more or speak freely with him standing by impatiently.

The awkwardness came later, the next time we met. There was a moment when our eyes locked and we both knew that the other was remembering the night of the party, thinking 'what if' and wondering if the other regretted what had happened. I wanted to ask, but there was no chance, it seemed the others were conspiring to keep us from being alone.

The next two months were the same. Any time the group got together; we couldn't manage to get away for a talk. It was the flirting again, the same witty banter, but there was an undertone to it. I had no way of identifying, whether you were hinting at a possible repeat or encore to our 'incident' or whether you were trying to gently remind me that it could not happen again.

I was sure that they knew, that you had told your wife, or that the others had suspected something. I noticed a difference in the way she looked at you, a mingled hurt and anger, and I wondered if I had caused that. I didn't want it to happen, didn't want to be a source of pain. As much as I wanted you, I did respect her and I didn't know how to cope with both of those things at once.

It didn't seem fair. Shouldn't it be easier to resist an attraction for someone who is so obviously off limits? It should, I swear it should, but it wasn't. Matter of fact, it was harder. I was so certain, sometimes, that the only thing holding us back was me… That perhaps my strange sense of right and wrong was making us both miserable…

As time went on, it became obvious that, whatever troubles your marriage had, I wasn't the cause. What arguments I overheard were about finances, spending, bills and such. She was resentful of your going out with us and leaving her at home with the kid, she wanted time to go out, too.

Feeling guilty, I offered to baby-sit a couple of times, thinking that I could help out. It would give the two of you a night off; you could go out together or something. Instead, it only caused more trouble. You were angry that she was 'using' me, ignoring my protests that I had offered willingly.

The compromise was that she would go out with 'the girls' and you would stay home. Somehow it worked out that I should still be there, it seemed odd but I didn't question it. Then again, being your friend more than hers, I wasn't really considered one of the girls. Maybe it was a way of making sure that I didn't get hurt feelings over the exclusion, I wasn't about to complain.

We watched a couple of movies, played games with the kid for a while, chasing her around until she was exhausted and willing to go through the bedtime ritual. I dealt with bath time and you settled her in. I watched from the hallway as you knelt beside the bed, reading a story and answering all of those essential last minute questions.

I found another movie and glanced at the clock. The Girls planned to stay out all night at a club, maybe hit a restaurant afterward. You joined me on the couch and, quite naturally, pulled me over to curl up against you. Even if your wife had walked in, it wouldn't have seemed so strange. I was always curling up with whoever happened to sit next to me, including her.

Your hand drifted over my shoulder, fingertips running lightly along my throat, tracing the collarbone. It was nice; I think I purred, shifting slightly as I looked up at you. Your hand fell downward, resting for a moment at the top of my shirt. The weight was too much, the button popped open and your hand slipped inside.

Your lips brushed across my temple, moving down along my cheek. Your fingers pushed aside the flimsy fabric of my bra, closing around my nipple. Somehow you knew exactly how to do it, pinching lightly and pulling, rolling it between your fingers but not hard. You pushed me into the corner of the couch, blazing a trail of kisses downward until your mouth could claim my other breast. Again, it was done exactly right, teeth scraping lightly but not quite biting, not chewing.

I moaned softly, biting my hand to keep quiet. It definitely wouldn't do, making noise and waking the kid, definitely. The movie was just under two hours, tooth marks were firmly imprinted on my hand, and my nipples were hard and rosy red from all the attention. I managed, somehow, to squirm away, pulling my shirt back into place.

It was a fine line we were treading, a very thin and precarious line, not unlike the edge of a blade… I hated to stop, but I had to. Otherwise I would have done anything, begged you to ignore the vows I was trying so hard to respect, and thrown all caution out the door that stood less than three feet away. It was too risky.

Even at that thought I realized that I didn't care anymore that you were married, that all my good intentions had died the moment you touched me. That is, of course, assuming that said intentions hadn't been self-delusional to begin with. The risk of being caught was more irksome at that moment than my own traitorous heart.

Stripping down and getting personal on the living room couch simply wasn't an option, and you smirked when I said so. Silently you stood, though the action obviously caused already strained jeans to tighten. I'm sure it was a swagger, as you walked back into the bedroom, and then returned with one of your t-shirts. "This and nothing else." You pushed me toward the bathroom and went to check on the kid.

I was intrigued, and excited… Whatever you had in mind it had to be interesting. My hands shook and fumbled, made undressing tedious but quickly I was changed. The shirt was huge, slipping off of one shoulder, hanging almost to my knees, something that I would sleep in.

You were in a pair of shorts when I came back, grinning as you took my hand. We went into the back yard to where a hot tub stood. I didn't know until then that you had one, and I was ecstatic. You smirked, checking the temperature as you turned up the jets, gesturing for me to climb in.

"Be quiet." You said, gesturing to the open bedroom window. If we made too much noise, she would wake up. Of course, it also meant that if she woke up we would hear her and could check up, that was good because now I wouldn't have to feel guilty or neglectful.

I sank into the water, leaning back to watch the stars. There was something beautiful, magical about the stars. Cliché, something about diamonds and velvet, but it was true. The star studded sky seemed like so many precious gems that could be gathered and treasured by the discerning collector. Ah, wax poetic; I let the thoughts fade away as you stepped into the water, settling onto the seat beside me.

"Remember the restaurant?" You pulled one of my legs over, stretching it across your knees. I nodded, and then whimpered as your nails traced the inside of my thigh, slowly moving upward. I held back a moan as your hand moved to the junction, cupping the mound. The heel of your hand rubbed gently, stimulating as a fingertip traced and pressed the lips apart.

The line was jagged, a broken heart, meaningless… It had been crossed and couldn't be repaired… Consequences be damned, the moment was all that mattered… I hated myself for wanting it, wanting you in any way I could manage. It was a torment that I hated you for, and I loved you.

The hand moved upward slightly, finger successfully hunting the infamous rosebud. Caressing and stroking, I had to sink under the water to keep from making noise. It was a mistake, the finger moved again, joined by another in an invasion that I couldn't quite manage to resent. It was good. I stayed under until need for air forced me up, breath and heartbeat erratic, lost in a world between static and sensation.

I saw your eyes as you leaned over me, wanting to catch my expression, wanting to see. I whispered something incoherent, near babbling. "Stop, yes now, please, no please please please…" I struggled to pull myself away even as I clung to your shoulders. The line was lost but I couldn't ask, I couldn't coerce, what I wanted must again be given freely. It wasn't mine to take. Maybe I said something of that, maybe you understood.

You pressed your lips to mine, moving both hands up to my waist, murmuring softly. It was nothing, no words, no meaning. You were telling me that you understood, that it was okay. You pressed me into the corner, glancing to open bedroom window and closed glass door for a moment. Time froze, suspended on unspeakable desires.

The center of the tub was deeper; you knelt there, pressing another kiss onto my lips as you pulled me down. There was a moment of hesitation as we watched each other, you pressed against me, past the opening, sliding into me. I arched, staring up at the stars as my ankles locked around the back of your thighs, pulling you deeper. You leaned back. It seemed that we were trying to climb inside one another, a full-bodied possession rather than a simple joining.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The line was gone, crossed and re-crossed until it was completely obliterated. Too late, too far, never enough. A single stroke and reality was gone, shattered, I was shattered. I bit my lip, drawing blood as I held back the cry as orgasm washed through me. I heard you grunt, teeth grinding together as you struggled to keep control.

The back door opened, three drunken giggling women stood framed in light. I tried to pull away but your nails bit into my thigh, you shifted to look over at them. Your voice sounded nearly normal as you asked if they had done breakfast yet. They said yes and you pouted. "Fine, we'll stop and get some on the way, before I take her home."

Your wife agreed, and the women went back inside. Our eyes locked, we laughed softly as you slowly pulled out. I waited for some sign of regret, recrimination, but there was none. If anything, you seemed disappointed at the interruption. I tried not to read into it, dangerously wishful thinking, but I couldn't help it.

You sent me ahead to change, saying you needed a few minutes alone to, er, calm down. Regretfully I agreed. There was nothing I could do to help for the time being. I dashed through the house and into the bathroom, drying quickly before I dressed again. The shirt I carefully rinsed in cold water and rung out, hanging it over the edge of the tub.

I was sitting on the couch when you finally came inside, looking curious as I was curled up next to your wife, listening to her drunken account of the night's adventure. She was telling me about some guy at the club who had bought her several drinks and danced with her, then tried to kiss her when she said it was time to go. No, he hadn’t had to try hard; she had let him kiss her.

You stared at her for a moment, before glancing over at me. There was some subtle shifting in the facial area that resembled a wink, though I couldn’t quite understand how I’d realized that was what it was meant to be. Your expression turned dark, an ugly scowl as you stomped over to stand before her, dripping water onto her suede boots.

There was an argument, shouting back and forth, secrets revealed. It wasn’t the first time she had done something like this. Implications that perhaps other incidents had been more than drunken kisses… I was intrigued, but saw opportunity as I thought of the wink. Quietly I stepped between, begging you both to be calm, to settle down. You both ignored me and I turned to one of the other girls, asking for a ride home.

You glared at her as she said yes, and then glared at your wife. Since they had gone to breakfast without you, and you had promised to give me a ride home, we would go to breakfast before you took me home. You needed to get away, to think. She said something harsh, raising her hand to slap but you caught it. Calm, now, you asked if my roommates would mind you sleeping on the couch tonight. You couldn’t be sure that, if you came home, things wouldn’t get violent.

I said that it would be okay, neglecting to mention that we both knew they were out of town for the weekend. You stomped into the bedroom to change and pack a bag with clothing for work the next day. I took the opportunity to show concern, asking if she was okay with me letting you stay. I promised to get you to talk about it, to calm you down, so that you and she could sit down the next day after work and discuss things. When she was sober and you were less angry. She agreed, and her friends thanked me for helping. I nodded and pulled on my shoes as you swept through the room without a glance at anyone, saying I had better hurry.

We jumped into your truck and you left a streak of rubber against the driveway as you slammed the gas pedal against the floor. Music started blaring and I stared out the window, trying hard to repress the laughter that bubbled up inside me. Several minutes later we stopped at a red light; you yanked me across the seat and kissed me hard, your fingers digging into my arm. We were both laughing as the kiss broke, and I grinned. “Gods, but that was beautiful.”

You smirked as the light turned green, ignoring the promise of breakfast as you drove toward my house.