Chapter 20
“I think she knows.” My words came out in a harsh whisper as I inhaled deeply, out of breath from running to town.
After leaving Jorjina’s, I was desperate to talk to Porter. Once I’d passed Samuel and the other guards at their small tower, I’d run the rest of the way to Porter’s apartment. Without knocking, I let myself in, knowing the door would be unlocked. Inside his living room, I paced back and forth, fretting and working myself up into a panic while Porter stared at me in confusion.
“Knows what? About you and me?” His forehead wrinkled as he attempted to keep me rooted to one place, but I couldn’t stop moving.
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
I shook my head sharply, hugging myself as I strode from the door to the couch and back again. “No . . . she knows. She knows.”
“Brin, slow down.” Porter pressed the palms of his hands on my shoulders. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“I’m in trouble.” I brushed past him, my head spinning. “So much trouble.”
“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice stern, and a chill ran down my spine.
“That’s exactly what she said. Word for word.” I stared at Porter, trying to process what Jorjina had meant by those words. The world was closing in on me, and I was certain I was being punished for all my sins against Heavenly Father, for my transgressions against my husband.
“The prophet’s mother?” he asked.
I nodded, finally standing still, staring him in the eye. “She said I was safe with her.”
We stood in silence.
“She knows, Porter. I feel it in my bones.”
“Okay, stop.” He walked to the couch and sank into the cushions, then placed his head in his hands. “So, what . . . you think she’s, like, telling the f*cking prophet everything you’re doing? You think she’s some sort of spy?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” My chest felt heavy and I struggled to breathe, then the room began to spin around and around. I was having a panic attack.
Porter jumped up and caught me just as my legs gave out, keeping me from tumbling down to the dirty carpet. He wrapped his arm around my waist and led me to the bedroom.
“Lie down, put your feet up.”
I closed my eyes and attempted to slow my breathing. Porter sat next to me, clutching my hand in his.
“Stay here . . . with me.”
My eyes opened quickly, and the panic accelerated within my chest. “I can’t.”
Porter pursed his lips and looked away. “Brin . . . what is it you see in me? I mean, what is this about?”
Despite the pressure in my chest, I sat to face him. “I don’t understand.”
“I mean, what do you see in me?” He peered at me wide-eyed, his expression distressed and vulnerable.
“I—”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” He stood and took my place pacing the room.
“What do you mean?” I asked, still confused.
“Is this just a game to you? Am I a game?”
“How can you say that to me? You’re everything! Absolutely everything!”
I moved to the edge of the bed, trembling. How could he think that? Every morning I started the day with thoughts of Porter. Every night when I prayed to Heavenly Father, I prayed for Porter—for his happiness, his well-being, his health, and the strength to conquer his addiction.
“Then why won’t you stay? I’m offering you a place to be away from all of them, and you won’t take it.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Why? Why not?”
“Because I’m married! I can’t just stay here and never go back.”
Panic filled my chest at the thought of leaving behind the only life I knew for a man I’d only known for a few months. Yes, I was falling for him. Yes, he was constantly on my mind and in my heart. But how could I know that he was ready to commit to me? To provide for me? That was a huge burden to carry, and I couldn’t expect that of him. Not yet.
“He’s not your husband, Brinley. No matter what the prophet ‘revealed.’ He has one wife and that’s Leandra. You’re not bound to him unless you choose to be. Period.”
He was right. Legally, Lehi had no claim to me. It was a celestial union, a marriage of faith. And clearly mine was fading fast. I stared at him, acknowledging how correct he was with that statement.
Porter’s eyes bore into mine, and part of me wanted to unbraid my hair, to strip myself of my long, heavy dress, and make myself at home in his apartment. But I knew I couldn’t do that.
“I risk everything to come here. You have to know this isn’t a game.”
Porter looked away and crossed his arms in front of his chest, building a wall between us.
“Porter, please.” My fingers grazed his elbow and he flinched at my touch. When I gasped, he closed his eyes tightly. “You’re everything to me. You could never be a game.”
“What do you see in me?” he asked, his voice small. His body seemed to crumple into itself. I’d never seen him like this.
“You’re kind and you’re strong,” I began, stroking his shoulder with my fingers. “You protect me and you make me laugh. I never laughed before I met you.”
“I believe that.” He chuckled under his breath. “What else?”
“You have this tough exterior, but for me . . . for me, you’re gentle, sweet.” His expression softened and he covered my hand with his own. “And no one, no one on this earth makes me light up like you can. No one makes me feel the way you make me feel. And I’m starting to think no one else ever could.”
“Then why?” He paused and his brows drew together. “Why won’t you stay?”
“I’m terrified, Porter. So terrified that if I stayed here with you, you’d grow tired of me, and then where would I be? All on my own. I’m not ready for that.”
“What makes you think I could ever get tired of you?” His thumb traced the curve of my chin.
I shrugged my shoulders and stared at the floor. “You’ve only known me for a few months. You might change your mind. You can have anyone you want . . . anyone without this,” I pulled on the end of my braid, “or this,” I yanked at the fabric of my dress. I choked back the tears, but they streamed down my cheeks. “What if you decide I’m not worth it? Then where will I be?”
He was silent, and for a moment I worried that he’d agree with me. That I’d just given him a reason to turn his back on our time together, to turn away from us completely. But instead, he took me into his arms.
“You’re right, Brin. I could have someone out here. I could. But that’s not what I want. I want you. Only you.”
“Why? I don’t get it! All I do is mess up your life! You should be with someone from the outside world. Someone you won’t have to bend over backward for, someone you can hold in your arms as you sleep. Someone who doesn’t have a husband waiting for her! Someone who isn’t damned to hell!”
I sobbed into his chest and he stroked my back.
“God, you break my heart when you talk like that.” He stroked the top of my braid. “He’s not waiting for you. He doesn’t even notice when you’re gone. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“And you’re not damned. If anybody’s damned to f*cking hell, it’s the one everyone calls the prophet. He’s a sick f*ck who plays with your lives for his own twisted purposes. He controls every single one of your lives. It’s disgusting.”
“I-I’m starting to see that.”
“We need to get away. Just the two of us. Somewhere where we can just be us, ya know? Where we can be alone and not worry about Cluff or the f*cking prophet or any of that bullshit.”
“That’s impossible,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I told you before, there’s always a way.”
Wriggling out of his embrace, I fought the panic that stirred within me. I needed air. I crossed the room, pulling at the latch of the window. The breeze streamed in and I inhaled deeply, feeling my pulse calm ever so slightly.
Porter stood his ground, watching as I placed my hands on the rail of the window.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
“If Jorjina knows, if sh-she knows and sh-sh-she’s spying on me—” I couldn’t look at him. The panic inside me wouldn’t allow it. My stuttering had returned, and I was mortified.
“Then what do you have to lose?” The plea in his voice demanded the proper response. But I didn’t have one.
“Nothing?” I paused, finally making eye contact. “Everything?” I shook my head, not knowing the answer.
Porter moved close behind me, placing one hand next to mine on the window ledge as the other gently caressed my waist. “You’re already on borrowed time. If she tells the prophet, there’s no way you’ll be able to stay. You have to know that.”
I shuddered in response, my feet rocking slightly . . . back and forth, back and forth. I couldn’t soothe myself, couldn’t make my body calm.
“Please, let’s go away. Just us, away from all of this bullshit. I know the place. Just trust me, please.”
“I-I . . .” My limbs shook and it was difficult to swallow. I wanted to indulge my fantasy of being with Porter without worry, without my braid, my dress, my stifling long underwear. I wanted it so badly.
Porter pressed himself against my back, tucking his chin into my neck. “I’ll protect you. Please believe me.”
“I do, I—”
“Just trust me. Please, I need you to trust me. If you can’t, then we’re over before we started.”
I turned to face him. “My trust in you is not the problem. It’s them . . . all of them.”
“Then let’s figure this out.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “They don’t deserve you, Brin. They don’t.”
“Maybe I don’t deserve you—”
“Stop. Don’t even say that. That’s the biggest pile of horse shit I’ve ever heard. You’re the best part of my life. You’re the reason I wake up every day, the reason I get my ass to work. Hell, you’re the reason I haven’t gotten high in months. It’s all because of you.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised at the effect I’d had on him.
Porter placed his hands on each side of my face, angling my chin so that our eyes were locked in a steady gaze. “Don’t ever say that again, all right? I won’t tolerate it.”
I nodded, tears running down my face and onto his knuckles. My mouth went dry as his blue eyes pierced mine. Relief coursed through me, and I relaxed at his touch.
“I need to say something, and you have to hear me,” I begged.
“Anything.” Porter’s lips formed a straight line, and I could feel his body stiffen.
“Please don’t doubt my feelings. Ever. I’m not ready to leave, I’m not ready to be discovered, but that doesn’t change my feelings for you. You’re always on my mind, so much it’s unnerving.”
He nodded as a sigh left his mouth. He pressed his lips to mine, his hands still gripping the sides of my face. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”
Our kisses grew more urgent, his tongue stroking mine, his hands moving to the buttons of my dress. I brought up my hands to assist his and soon the dress and long underwear were tossed across the room. Porter hoisted my legs around his waist and backed me into the wall, the curtains blowing in the breeze. The slightly toxic smell of paint traveled through my sinuses and I flinched as the cool texture of the wall tickled the hot skin of my back. I linked my feet around Porter’s lower back as his lips traveled to the base of my neck, planting demanding kisses against my skin, sending me into a frenzy.
I craved him, all of him.
“I want to please you.” My hand cupped his hardness.
“What? No—” he started to protest.
I’d told Porter about my honeymoon, and because of that awful experience he hadn’t allowed me to pleasure him in that way. But today, I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“I want to try . . . for you. Don’t say no,” I said boldly, pressing a finger to his lips.
He released me from his grip, slowly lowering me to the floor. We shifted our bodies, and I pressed his shoulders against the wall. Porter swallowed hard before releasing a sigh.
Ever so slowly, I unzipped his jeans, tugging them to the floor. My eyes locked with Porter’s as I removed his boxer shorts. He was ready for me. Completely ready. Before he could protest, I’d taken him into my mouth, teasing his tip with my tongue.
“Oh God . . .” Porter murmured.
My eyes never left his as I moved up and down on his length, savoring the feel of him inside my mouth. Unlike my experience three years ago, I enjoyed this. The pulsing of my private area continued, and moisture collected in my panties. I was ready for him.
Porter tugged at the base of my braid, pulling my mouth from him. “Not like this,” he said, his eyes dark.
“But I—”
“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to my lips and lifting me to my feet. “I need to be inside you.”
I cracked a smile, knowing just how much my body craved its own release. But instead of walking me to the bed, as we’d always done in the past, Porter turned me so that I faced the open window. He tugged at the curtains, giving us privacy.
“Hold on to the windowsill.”
I did as I was told. Instead of his directions intimidating me, as Lehi’s always had, they excited me. Adrenaline created pathways through my system as Porter yanked my panties to the floor. He walked away for just a moment, but returned with a condom. After opening the package and sliding it down his length, he entered me from behind. My body tensed slightly, having never experienced anything like this position in the past.
“I’ll go slow,” he assured me, gliding in and out of me in a gentle rhythm. “I’d never hurt you.”
“I know,” I responded in a hushed tone. “Don’t hold back.”
With that whispered invitation, Porter quickened his pace. He slipped one hand in front, his fingers circling my most sensitive spot as he pumped behind me, and I moaned at the touch of his fingertips. Pleasure built within me as I approached my release. Porter’s forehead pressed against my neck and the heat of his breath spurred my excitement.
My knuckles turned a ghostly shade of white as I gripped the window frame, my body preparing for the orgasm building within me.
“Come for me, Brin,” Porter moaned. “You’re so close, I can feel it.”
The gravelly tone of his voice, combined with the intoxicating strokes of his fingers pushed me over the edge. I seized around him in ecstasy, screaming his name out the open window before collapsing onto the ledge. Porter continued to thrust inside me before finding his release. He gripped my braid as he came, groaning through gritted teeth.
Together, we fell to the floor, the heat from our bodies cooled by the breeze that billowed the curtain.
“God, you’re amazing,” he said before kissing the top of my forehead. “Was that okay for you? Not scary or anything?”
“Not at all.” I shook my head. “I liked it.”
“Good.”
We lay in silence for several minutes before, at my request, Porter played the mix of CDs he’d created with me in mind. Bob Dylan belted out “Shelter from the Storm,” and without even realizing it, I began to sing along. I loved that I was learning the lyrics—they were heartfelt, loving, and full of passion.
They reminded me of Porter. He was my shelter from the storm that was my life.
“I know what to tell them,” I muttered, finally hearing the answer inside my head.
“What are you talking about?” Porter asked, obviously confused.
I’d noticed over the weeks we’d been physically intimate that after we’d made love, my brain was on high alert. It was sharp and keen, full of ideas. Porter said his head was “mush” after making love to me. So I was used to conversations like this—me having a sudden idea or revelation, and Porter confused by my burst of self-proclaimed genius.
“You wanted us to get away. For a weekend.”
“Oh, right. Of course, yes.” He stroked my arm so lightly that goose bumps rose.
“Jessa. I’ll tell them she needs me.”
“She’s the sister who had the—”
“Miscarriage, yes. I’ll tell them she had another, and that my mother is too sick to help.”
“Is it safe? Will Lehi contact her husband or something?”
“No,” I said, “that’s why it’ll work. Lehi doesn’t like Kurt and vice versa. It should work fine. Besides, what you said was true. If I’m on borrowed time, what does it matter? If Jorjina is spying on me and reporting back to the prophet, then my days are already numbered.”
Porter pulled away, pushing up on his elbow and peering into my eyes. “Are. You. Sure?”
“Yes. I want to be with you, and not just for a few stolen hours. I want to fall asleep in your arms, wake up the same way. I want, even if only for twenty-four hours, to feel like I’m really yours.”
“You are mine. Always.” A single tear fell from Porter’s eye. Rather than wipe it away or get embarrassed as I’d expected, he simply pursed his lips and shrugged. There was nothing else to say.