Unfortunately, he wasn’t finished.
“You try to shut down, you try to hold back, you try to push me away, to take off, fair warning, mamita, I won’t like it and I won’t allow it. You feel that’s me puttin’ you under my thumb, I can live with that. You’ll learn the difference between how your father treated you and how I’m gonna treat you. Do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you?”
What did I say to that?
“Sadie, answer me. I gotta know you understand.”
“Yes,” I replied.
I understood and it scared me more than anything had scared me before.
“You got anything to say?” he asked.
I thought about it then I made an effort at protection.
In other words, I lied (badly).
“I’m not sure there’s something here. I don’t think I feel about you the way –”
He interrupted me, “You feel what you’re wearin’?”
I didn’t understand the question then I thought back to the night before and all I could remember was falling asleep on the couch.
My hand went to my waist and I felt soft flannel bunched there.
Damn and blast him to perdition!
I’d stolen Hector’s flannel shirt the day before, shoved it in my overnight bag, all ready to take it with me to Crete as a reminder never to get myself in another fool situation ever again.
Now, somehow, I was wearing it.
Which meant I was in another fool situation right now!
“How…?” I started but stopped when his head moved, his mouth came to my neck, lips sliding up to the back of my ear.
“Carried you to bed last night, went for your pajamas in your bag, found my shirt. You don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, why’d you steal my shirt?”
Blooming heck.
With no other choice, I decided to go for attitude. “You shouldn’t have rooted through my stuff.”
“You shouldn’t have stolen my shirt,” he returned.
This was true.
“You can have it back,” I snapped.
I felt his body move and I lost his heat but only so he could put his hand to my belly and press me to my back. He came up, elbow in the pillow, head in his hand and looked down at me, grinning.
I glared up at him.
“I don’t want it back,” he said.
“I don’t want it anymore,” I lied.
The grin widened to a smile, his head bent and he kissed me softly.
“You want it,” he murmured against my lips.
I did. I wanted it. I wanted it to remember not to be a fool. I also wanted it for those times when I would pretend I could be a normal girl with a normal boyfriend having a normal relationship. I wasn’t sure flannel was de rigueur on Crete but I also didn’t care.
That’s when I remembered Pretend Sadie and what she was going to do for me.
And I realized I needed her even more than I thought I did.
Because she was going to get me free, with my heart guarded but she was also going to get me the memories I’d need in order to go on, alone, without my Mom, without anyone.
“Oh all right,” I gave in, blowing out a huff of air. “I want it.”
That’s when Hector’s eyes grew dark, warm and intense and I stared in order to memorize that look so I could hold it with me for a long, long time.
While I was staring at his face, he pulled the covers down to my thighs. He watched me as his fingers moved to the buttons of the shirt and undid them (he’d only done up two) and he spread the shirt wide.
I pulled in breath and started to cover myself when he mumbled, “Don’t.”
It was hard but I made my hands settle and his eyes went to my chest, his hand followed and, slowly, it trailed down my chest, between my breasts, over my ribcage and midriff to my belly. The whole time, his eyes watched his hand and, when his hand rested at my belly, that belly melted.
This was because his face got this expression, an expression I’d never seen on him before. It was more intense and warm than normal, but it was also soft and bizarrely, at the same time, hard. I got the impression it was like him cupping my breast. It signified possession.
At that realization, I couldn’t help it, my bones went liquid.
“Hector –” I breathed and his eyes came to mine, his fingertips moved across the top edge of my panties and his head descended.
That was it. I gave in because it was Hector, I wanted him (he was right, obviously), I wanted the memories of “us” and I wasn’t disappointed.
It was just as amazing as before.
It was a mixture of hot and urgent but slow and sweet and the only difference was, when I tried to shrug off the shirt, he wouldn’t let me. He made me keep it on, even when we were ready, breathing heavily, kissing hard, my nails scraping at his skin and he rolled to his back, taking me with him. He yanked up my knees so I was straddling him, guided himself inside and pushed me up so he filled me.
It felt great.