Page 25 of Stay Away from Him

“It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“And what if I want it to be what it looked like? I like all the women here being jealous of me.”

Thomas sniffed a laugh, shrugged. “All right. It was what it looked like.”

Melissa glanced around the room, felt the furtive glances being shot their way.

“What if wereallygive them something to be jealous of?”

“What do you have in mind?” Thomas asked.

She was still standing, her purse in her hands; Thomas was perched on the edge of his tall chair, legs splayed, feet propped on the ground. Melissa set her purse back on the table and stepped toward him, then grabbed at his shirt right under his throat, the fabric bunching up in her hands.

“This,” she said, and pulled him toward her. Their mouths opened as they met, and Thomas tasted of the red wine he’dordered: chocolate, berries, pepper. He pressed into Melissa and let out a little moan. She felt the vibration of it all the way into her chest.

“Want to get out of here?” Melissa said when they parted.

“Yes, please.”

Chapter 6

Lawrence and Toby weren’t home, but Thomas and Melissa snuck into the house all the same, stealing around the back and creeping through the sliding door to the basement. Thomas was on her right away once they were inside, his hands seemingly everywhere at once on her body, his mouth mashing against hers, opening as though he wanted to devour her whole.

“The bedroom,” Melissa managed, her voice low and raspy.

Thomas led her there by the hand, practically tugging her down the hall and through the door. At the foot of the bed he paused, pulled her close, and kissed her again—long, soft, and tender. His hands stole up to Melissa’s chest, cupped her breasts through her top. Melissa let herself fall back toward the bed, tried to pull him with her, but he held back, remained standing. She gazed up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt. As it came off, she got her first look at the body she’d only been guessing at under those clothes, as taut and muscled as she’d imagined, every part of him—his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his stomach—having a shape, a contour, a pattern of lines and shadows. He stood there for a moment, then he reached down and began to undo Melissa’s pants. She started to help him with the buttons, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said, his voice rough. “Let me.”

Melissa let her arms fall back, her hands close to her head, and let Thomas peel the clothes away from her body. As he moved her limbs this way and that, she knew there was something about what was happening—what she’d allowed to happen, what she’d made happen—that was foolish, even dangerous. Bringing a man home, taking him into her bed so soon after she’d met him. Both with children waiting for them, wondering where they were, what was taking them so long. Melissa should’ve been telling Thomas to stop, telling him that they should wait, that this was going too fast. That would have been the smart thing, the responsible thing. But the wrongness of it only brought a dizzying rush, a drunken feeling Melissa wanted to give herself over to.

And when every inch of her skin was bared to the close air of the bedroom and Melissa saw Thomas’s eyes drinking her in, every last ounce of resistance left her, like a physical presence suddenly removed and forgotten.

“God,” Thomas said, his voice growing tender. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Melissa reached for him, pulling him toward her, his weight on top of her body, his mouth moving to the soft skin of her neck. As he kissed her, she explored his body with her hands—his arms, his back, his shoulders. Her fingers tracing the shape of him. Her breathing came faster, and she trailed her fingers into his hair, grabbed a fistful and angled his head toward her, his eyes toward hers.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he said.

Melissa let out a small, airy laugh. “We only met yesterday.”

“It’s been a long time, I mean,” Thomas said. “Maybe I’ve been waiting foryoua long time.”

His voice grew thick, full with emotion, and as Melissa looked at his eyes, she wondered what he saw in her. What she was tohim, what she represented. If the sight of her was tangled up with the memory of his missing, presumed-dead wife. The look in his eyes was more than lust—there was grief there too, and hope, maybe.

Melissa put a finger on his lips.

“Quiet now,” she said, and let a sly smile rise to her mouth. “Just have your way with me, would you?”

Thomas’s answer was his silence, his mouth opening with a sudden sharp breath.

Neither of them spoke again until it was to whisper each other’s names, until they were pantingyesinto the close air of the room—and Melissa didn’t let go of Thomas until she was done with him.

***

In the silence after, Melissa simply lay back, staring at the ceiling. The room felt as though it was spinning, even though she wasn’t drunk, had only had a sip or two of her wine. Some balance in her was shifting, the recklessness that had driven her into bed with Thomas receding, all the hesitations she’d been holding at bay growing large, shouting at her:This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have done this.

“What is it?” Thomas asked. “You’re quiet. Are you okay?”

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