Chapter 13
“The truth isn’t always beauty, but the hunger for it is.”-Nadine Gordimer
My night was shit. I barely slept. My mind was in and out of thought and I’d watched the monitors like a hawk only to have nothing happen. Exhausted, I roll out of bed at around ten o’clock to shower. I’m going to keep the appointment Bentley made for me. I’m going to prove to myself that I can face my shame, guilt, and fear. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I really need to stop counting.
The spa is a small shop on the main drag in Beebe. The walls are a soft soothing green and the music playing is relaxing even though I feel anything but relaxed right now. A short woman with wavy brown hair greets me.
“Hi there, you must be Magnolia,” she says.
“Yes,” I answer without ceremony.
“Are you ready to come on back? I’m Jess and I’ll be doing your massage today.”
I nod and follow her down the hall and into a small room that’s dimly lit. I stand board-straight while she explains that she will be doing an hour-long full body massage. Keep your underwear on. Check. Lay face up to start. Check. And then she’s gone. I disrobe quickly and hop up onto the table, fidgeting with the blankets until they are up around my neck and she knocks on the door.
“All set,” I call out in a small voice. Man up, Mags. It’s just a massage.
She enters the room and adjusts the lights even lower before switching on some quiet music. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, counting to ten in my head. When her hand lifts mine and she starts massaging my arm, I stiffen and try not to freak out. It’s a woman. She’s giving me a massage. I am fine. I repeat this mantra repeatedly while keeping my eyes squeezed shut until she stops.
“Magnolia?” her voice is gentle and soft.
“Yes?” I whisper, opening one eye.
“You’re going to have to relax a bit for this to work…how about you roll over and we focus on your back?” she offers.
“Sorry. OK.” I comply. She lifts the light blanket slightly allowing me to roll so I’m face down, and then folds the blanket back to my rear. I feel too exposed like this.
“I’m going to start with your shoulders,” she states. Her warm, lotioned hands come to my shoulder blades and start methodically working at the knots. The longer she works, her strokes long and deep, the more I can feel the tension easing from my body. I close my eyes and breathe, in and out, in and out, in and...
“Take your time getting up. I’ll be out front waiting,” she says softly, waking me from my nap. I blink a few times as I hear the door click shut. I must have dozed off, which means I did it and I did it well! I feel relaxed and peaceful in a way I haven’t since before this new life. Rejuvenated, I sit up slowly and get dressed. I sweep my hair up into a loose bun and check my face in the mirror for sheet marks. Somehow I feel more whole, like a tiny slice of me has been repaired. I even feel a nugget of happiness. Sad but true, something as simple as a massage has fixed some small part of me.
*****
I haven't seen or spoken to Bentley since he up and bailed on me a few nights ago. When I woke up this morning I felt the overwhelming urge to go out. The only problem with that is I have no friends. Well...no girlfriends. I seriously doubt Bentley or Brock would be game for a girls’ night out with me. They still watch me like a hawk when I’m drinking. It’s cute and infuriating all at the same time. I grab a phone from a basket on my dresser and text Aster that I love her before tossing the phone back in the basket. The right hand basket contains the go-phones that only have one number programed in: Aster’s. The two phones in the other basket are for personal use. They contain the club number, Bentley and Brock’s numbers, and the local pizza place that delivers. I grab a phone from the left-hand basket and text Bentley and Brock asking if anyone is available for a night out, and scan the monitors on the wall as I saunter into the bathroom to get ready for my day. No counting. Everything’s in order. I turn the water on and feel calm and focused.
Brock had jumped on the idea of going out together and convinced Bentley to change his plans to accommodate me as well. I’d showered and texted them both back, saying they were to pick where we go tonight since I have no idea what’s fun around here. It took me forever to figure out what to wear on a night out. I don’t really have any clothes outside of those for work or working out. I finally settle on a cream-colored blousy top that comes up in gathers around my neck and wraps around with a sash that ties at the back, leaving my shoulders, arms, and back mostly exposed. I pull on dark, fitted jeans (because it’s chilly out) and my cowboy boots with the bone-colored flower inlays. My hair is down and curled loosely and my makeup is light, outside of my telltale cat-eye eyeliner. I see them both approach on a monitor and hear the front door open and muffled voices talking, so I spritz on my perfume and head to the living room.
“So?” I ask the two gaping men standing in my living room. “Do I look alright?” I glance down, wondering if I went overboard. It’s been so long. Bentley coughs and runs his hand through his hair but doesn’t answer.
“Smokin’ hot girl. Damn,” Brock cat calls. I curtsy and beam a real smile back at both of them. When it’s clear that Bentley isn’t going to say anything I cock my head and let them know I’m ready to go.
“Yeah. Okay,” Bentley mumbles. What is his issue tonight? His sudden shyness is so unlike him.
“Where we going?” Brock asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I shudder slightly and shrug out of his hold. Hm. Maybe I’m not all better after all. He laughs and shakes his head at me.
“Honky Tonk,” Bentley says over his shoulder.
“SCORE! I’ve never been,” I say cheerily. Brock groans and cracks his neck a couple times. My guess is he isn’t a big fan of country. Bentley and I hop into his truck while Brock climbs onto his bike to follow behind. Apparently he has some hot date tonight and he’s not sure she’ll want to join us at a honky tonk so he needs to be able to leave without us. Pansy. But it’s good to see him excited over something.
The honky tonk is a large wooden structure, sort of like a barn, with Christmas lights strung up in a criss-cross pattern over the dance floor. The place is packed with line dancers, who I find fascinating. I like country music but there are no places where I’m from that offer up this kind of country so it’s really awesome to see, like a live musical. Bentley walks behind me, and Brock in front, as we wind through the crowd towards a vacant table. The chairs are hay bales. A tall, leggy blonde stops and asks us what we want to drink. I watch the way she drinks in Bentley from head to toe but he doesn't seem to notice her googley eyes at all. Surprising. I can picture him bedding someone like her.
“So, where’s the woman?!” I ask Brock over the music after we’ve ordered.
“Not here,” he grumbles. “I’m going to go meet her at Mack’s in an hour.”
“At work? Can't she meet you someplace where you don't already spend all your time?” I ask, feeling slightly territorial over him.
“I don't mind,” he answers.
“How’s the knee, man?” Brock directs at Bentley.
“Better. Still sore though.”
“What happened to your knee?” I ask, clearly out of the loop.
“Work injury. Nothing too bad. Brock had a connection at the gym for a sports physical therapist so I’m fine,” he says, not giving any more details. I stare at him hard, watching for some sign that explains his mood tonight but find none.
“Oh,” I say and stare into my bottle of Corona.
We chat about training and boxing and the upcoming MMA fight for a while before agreeing that we should all watch it together at Bentley’s place next Friday night. It feels nice to be out. It feels even better to have people to be out with and making plans with. When nine o’clock rolls around and I’m already five beers into the evening, Brock excuses himself and takes off, but not before placing a kiss on the crown of my head, which I’m happy to report did not make me cringe.
“Care to dance?” Bentley’s deep voice cuts over the music.
“You dance?!” I squawk at Bentley. He looks extra handsome tonight in a pair of well fitted Wranglers and a deep purple button-up. True to form, he has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, never one to be overly formal. He has on a pair of black boots that only add to his overall appeal. The realization that I’m inspecting him hits me hard. I must be getting too buzzed.
“Yeah, I dance,” he grumbles. “So, princess, you game?” I’m not sure I’m prepared for dancing with a man. The massage seems like a big enough step in the right direction for one month but I can’t help but want to be out on that floor with all those people. I love the way they twirl and twist together across the floor and I really believe Bentley would never hurt me.
“I’ll try?” I offer up, more a question than a response. His eyes shine a little with approval as he stands and offers me his hand. I take it hesitantly. His fingers close around mine and the warmth from them seems to make my blood pump a little faster. He leads me to the dance floor and slides one hand to the small of my back slowly, never breaking eye contact, the other hand gripping mine up near his shoulder. I watch his face carefully and battle the anxiety that bubbles in my belly.
“Good start, yeah?” he says quietly into my ear. I pull back a little to meet his eyes. His smile is contagious. He’s worried about me, about my reaction. The corner of my mouth lifts slightly.
“Yeah,” I mumble. He starts moving us easily around the floor. I’m impressed with his skill and grace. I never would have guessed he was the kind of guy who could move like this. He does all the work and I easily follow his lead.
“How was the massage?” he questions while we glide left, then right. As I go to answer he spins me in a circle and pulls me back close to him as we keep moving. He’s warm and hard and smells like hay and beer. It does funny things to me. I try to shake off my Bentley daze enough to answer.
“Good. Thank you for that. It was really thoughtful.” The way he towers over me isn’t scary anymore. I feel protected in his firm, cut arms. At least, right now I do. We shuffle, twirl, and he dips me as the song finishes. A genuine belly laugh rumbles from me at his moves. I straighten and look up to his handsome face, feeling emotions that I haven't felt in too long.
“Thanks. For everything,” I muster with all the sincerity I can.
He doesn’t respond but pulls me back into him and holds me strong and steady. For the first time in what feels like a million years I feel okay. He keeps me tucked against his torso tightly and I let myself get lost in the moment. The song Hey Pretty Girl starts drifting through the speakers and he starts swaying us in time to the first few bars. The words slide through me like a knife. I try desperately to hold it back but my sob tears through me. The memory of Cane holding me close and whisper-singing every last damn word to this song blindsides me. I try to keep the tears at bay. I try to push the memory out. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to count to ten while taking small breaths in through my nose and out my mouth. Apparently sensing my complete meltdown, Bentley sweeps me up bridal-style into his arms and I adjust to keep my face buried from view by nuzzling into his neck. Despite the ache in my heart I notice how strong he is. How good it feels to be held again, and he smells so yummy. A cold breeze washes over me and the music grows slightly quieter. His arms squeeze tighter around me and as I look up his eyes get stormy. He sets me down and says, “Princess, what happened to you? What are you hiding?” he grunts as he sets me down.
“It’s just everyday life stuff.” I sniffle and look away.
“Tell me,” he urges.
“Bentley, I want to go home now,” I say quietly.
He tugs my chin so I’m facing him again. “Tell me.”
“God! Will you just take me home? Why are you pushing this?!” I squawk.
“Why do you think?” he begs.
“I have no idea!” I throw my hands up in the air with irritation.
“You ever stop to think that maybe it’s because I like you? Maybe because I want to know you? But every time I try to get you to talk I get attitude. It’s becoming a problem.”
“I don’t have an attitude problem!” I bark back.
“Princess, you’re entitled to your opinion, I’m just lettin’ you know that it’s stupid.”
“Bentley!” Now I am screeching. “I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it. HARD. Go away, ‘cause tonight I’m drinking until it’s someone else’s problem!” I wrench out of his arms, teetering when I finally break free of his grip but keeping my balance somehow and storm back into the honky tonk. I get to our table and instantly feel like shit. I know I have way overreacted and I know he was nothing but nice and gentle and caring and I am purposely pushing him as far away as possible but I have no choice. I need to get my ducks in a row before I let anyone in. I’m not going to mess up my life or anyone else’s anymore. I drown the rest of my beer, slam the empty bottle on the table and head to the bar for another one. One shot, two shots, three shots. Comfortable numbness sets in.
“Time to go, princess,” a gruff voice hisses from behind me.
“I am NOT leaving,” I proclaim sloppily and crank my head to see him.
“Hey buddy, she’s doin’ alright, back off,” the stranger next to me interjects.
“She came with me. She’s leavin’ with me.” Bentley holds firm, irritation etched on his handsome face.
“I’ll take her home,” creepy stranger smirks and reaches out for me.
“BOYS!” I shout, dodging his touch. “I will not be leaving with either one of you. So you can all fuck off!” This apparently was the wrong thing to say as Bentley’s eyes cloud over and he lunges in, picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. With my head hanging down his back, my ass in the air and my fists beating his backside, I scream.
“Bentley, put me the fuck down! NOW!”
“Sorry, Princess, but I can’t do that,” he chuckles. CHUCKLES! Now I am really worked up.
“God damnit, COWBOY, put...me...” I stop because a strange gagging feeling pushes up my throat. Bentley pushes outside and flings me down off of him as I start to wretch and throw up...all over his boots.
“Great,” he mutters. I can’t help it. I start crying, and then gag again. A pair of hands sweeps my hair out of my face and holds it there as I throw up a lot more - only not on Bentley’s boots this time. When I’m finished and can assure him I am not going to vomit anymore he lifts me into the truck, buckles me and starts home.
The car ride is silent. I keep my head rested on the window and stare out it blankly, occasionally taking small sips off the water bottle he handed me. The headlights shine down the black road in front of us. There is so much I want to say to him but I don’t. He hands me a piece of gum, which I pop gratefully into my mouth. His large palm comes to the back of my neck and tugs me in his direction. I snap my gaze to him as my body stiffens.
“It’s okay, Mags.” His voice sounds wilted. Defeated somehow, but I don't understand why. His palm stays at my neck and the strangest thing happens. I lean into it. I lean into him. He pulls my head to his shoulder and I rest it there comfortably until we get to the trailer park.
He pulls in next to my car, which strikes me as odd considering he only lives two trailers away. I could easily walk. I sit up and watch as he kills the engine and hops out. Before I can decipher what’s happening my door opens and he extends his hand to me.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
“Treating the princess like a princess,” he says. I take his hand and let him help me down from the large truck.
“Bent...” I look away from him as I start.
“Don’t,” he clips, “not tonight, Mags.” I lift my gaze to meet his and find warm blue eyes staring back at me affectionately.
“Invite me in,” he demands, voice hoarse. I feel like my eyes have officially bulged out of my head at his words but I don’t want to say no to him. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s my finally making some form of human contact with someone. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just horny and God’s gift to the male species is standing in front of me being demanding. I move past him, not releasing his hand, and tug him behind me.
He moves in front of me to get the door. Inside the trailer the lights come on automatically as we pass the threshold. He stops just inside and I have to abruptly stop to avoid crashing into him. When he turns to face me I’m stunned at the hunger in his eyes.
“Magnolia…” My name leaves his mouth in a gravelly tone. Affected. By me. It has me aroused in a way that I’ve never quite felt before. I take a step closer to him and drop my purse on the floor.
“No talking.” My voice is raspy and filled with a level of emotion that I didn't think existed in me anymore. The instant I issue the plea he reacts as if that was all the invitation he needed. He reaches forward as I extend my arms, wrapping them around his neck. His fingers dig into my rear and lift. I twine my legs around his waist and let his mouth crash into mine. His tongue parts my lips, caressing mine in one lush stroke. I’m tingling in places I haven’t tingled in too long. A low moan slips out as he continues to gently take my breath away with his mouth. His lips are soft and warm and feel delicious. As the pads of his fingers squeeze into the flesh of my bum the kiss becomes more wild. Hotter, unleashed and passionate. He groans into my mouth as I cling to him. “Princess,” his voice sounds like rough sandpaper as he pulls back slightly from me. His erection is pressing into me and I have a strange urge to claim him. “Shhhh…” I scold and squeeze myself tighter around him. I don’t want words. I want to feel more of him.
A look of pure male satisfaction takes over his features and for a moment I’m overly aware, insecure even, that there have probably been many women before me but only one man before him. He starts walking toward the bedroom with me still clinging to him. Lights turn on as we pass all the motion sensors. One hand leaves my rear and comes to the back of my neck, under my hair, and massages the tender skin there. He stops just short of my bed and tosses me onto it. The impact doesn’t hurt, but it jars me. It takes me out of the moment slightly and I fight to get back into it.
“Shit…” He scrubs his jaw, seeming rattled, and advances on me, cupping my face in his palms. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that,” his voice caresses. The tenderness and heat I find in his eyes is what pulls me back into our moment, not his words.
“Please. Shut. Up,” I reply tartly. His jaw flexes but then he laughs a sexy rough sound from deep in his chest. He is all sexy male charm.
“I just need to ah, brush my teeth...K?” I stammer and hop up. I move into the bathroom like lightning and brush as fast as humanly possible, terrified that the moment will be over by the time I get back. When I emerge from the bathroom he’s lying back on my bed staring at the monitors. SHIT. I approach the bed, slowly stripping off my clothes as I walk. Shirt, gone. Boots, kicked off. Pants...
“Stop,” he commands, and I do. He leans up onto his elbows and watches me.
“Turn around. Slowly.” I’m inclined to protest his request but the wetness between my legs says to do whatever he demands. I rotate three-sixty degrees slowly in silence. The quiet is excruciating and only punctuated by the panting breaths I’m taking. I’ve never been on display like this. When I’m facing him again he stands and stalks over to me.
“You are stunning.” His voice is low and deep. I like it. His hands grip the hem of his shirt and he lifts, baring his perfectly toned torso. His pecs flex with the final tug of his shirt before he tosses it to the floor. I can’t take the no contact anymore and reach out, stroking a path down his zipper. From the feel of it he is just as ready as I am to have this happen. Instantly I’m up in the air and moving fast. One arm wrapped around my ribs pressing my bare chest into his. His other arm darts out, softening our fall onto the bed. Within seconds my jeans are missing. “No panties?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not a fan,” I quip. His belt buckle undone, he strips himself of his jeans and boxers and crawls up the bed, trailing kisses from my ankle, to knee, to thigh. I hold my breath waiting for his mouth to land between my legs but he keeps kissing higher. Belly, ribs, neck and finally finds my mouth again. I feel wild. Untamed in a new way, or maybe just in a way that I forgot to feel for the last thirteen months. His hand slips between my legs, his fingers working magic while he devours me with his mouth. He moves to my jaw, nipping and kissing until he reaches my breast. When his lips reach my nipple I’m sure I’ve been out of the game too long and I’m going to come immediately. My back arches up, pushing more of it into his mouth and my hips push into his hand wanting more. I have a death grip on the pillow under my head. It’s like he just looked in and plucked my brain right out of my head. I have no rational thoughts.
His hand leaves me and trails up over my hip to my shoulder and back down. It’s pure torture. “More,” I plead. “I need more.”
His mouth takes my other breast into his mouth and lavishes it with the same attention the other one received. I release the pillow and grab the back of his head holding him to me. He moves his lips downward inhumanely slowly, his nips soothed by his kisses until he’s between my legs. Both hands come to my thighs and push up, opening me. When his tongue slides in and then drags up my entire body shudders. I’m gripping the pillow again like it’s some kind of lifeline. Three skillful flicks of his tongue, one nip and strong suckle later, I’m falling apart. Obliterated. That’s the way I feel. My body convulses on its own and a deep throaty groan drifts out of me. Bentley kisses his way back up my body with a grin, looking mighty pleased with himself. I wrap my arms around him and pull him to me. Reaching down between us I grab his cock and guide it in. Surprise registers on his face, but I don't care. Slowly he pushes in and out, savoring each thrust. There’s nothing but the sound of slick bodies moving together and the puff of breaths leaving us. It’s building again inside me, so I wrap my legs around his hips and claw at his shoulders as his pace speeds up. Everything feels wound tight. I grip him firmly with my legs and arms squeezing until my body releases all tension and I sink into the mattress, panting. He drives deep a moment later, finding his own pleasure, and rolls off me to the side. Our bodies touch from shoulder to knee, and we lay there in our birthday suits not speaking. It’s heaven.