Out of Reach (12 page)

I move slowly, careful not to disturb
anything and sneak a peek over my shoulder before gently laying my
head back down onto the pillow.

Yup, Mr. Incredible is
still there
, I think, grinning to
myself.
Really, after almost two years,
where else do I expect him to be? It’s not like he’s going to run
off in the middle of the night
, I remind
myself. Still, I haven’t gotten used to waking up beside this
man.

As if he knows I’m awake and thinking about
him, I feel the light pressure of his arm wrap around me and pull
my body back against his chest. I lay as still as I can, savoring
this moment: the warmth of his breath through my hair, the sound of
his heartbeat, the security of his arms. Being fidgety by nature, I
know I will not be able to keep this up for long; in another few
moments, my body’s patience for being restrained will begin to
wane, forcing me to wiggle.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore,
Ben rolls up onto his side, kisses me on the cheek, and releases
me. Rolling over, I watch him climb out of bed and pull on the
first pair of pants he finds. A moment later he disappears into the
bathroom. Among the articles of clothing strewn about the bedroom
floor, the white business card I’d given to Ben the night before
catches my eye and I smile.

Returning from the bathroom, Ben asks,
“What’s so funny?”

I point to the folded piece of paper on the
floor. Stooping down he retrieves the card. Holding it out to me so
the writing is clearly visible, I read my message, “Don’t be
late.”

“You know how popular your little stunt has
made me?” Ben asks. I shake my head. “Let’s just say I’m the envy
of everyone and you have solidified your position as the coolest
wife ever.”

Grinning from ear to ear, he leans over the
bed and kisses me soundly on the mouth. Just as I’m contemplating
pulling him back down into bed with me, he breaks our connection
and announces, “I’m making breakfast.”

Sighing I roll over, wrapping the covers
more tightly around me as he heads to the kitchen. Rebelling
against the necessity of getting out of bed to enjoy said
breakfast, I close my eyes once more and let my thoughts drift. My
mind happily indulges me with dream-like fantasies and soon I find
myself reliving the passionate details from last night.

It’s hard to believe Ben and I have been
together for almost two years. Our whole relationship has been
somewhat of a whirlwind. But hey, when you’re thirty you don’t have
the patience for long, drawn out dating scenarios, and you pretty
much know what you’re looking for in a guy. Or at least you know
within the first couple dates if he’s worth spending any lengthy
amount of time with.

That’s kind of what happened with us.
Melanie and I had been frequenting The Spotted Dog a lot that
summer two years ago. I’d seen Ben a few times at the bar and
believe me, I’d had my fair share of fantasies about the guy, but
I’d never pursued an introduction. What I was blissfully unaware of
at the time was Ben also had his eye on me.

With all the live musical performances at
the bar during the summer months, Melanie and I spent a majority of
our time on the dance floor. We both love to dance and at the end
of a long week nothing relieves stress quite like dancing, except
maybe running. One night, Ben crossed the invisible line at The
Spotted Dog separating the firemen from the rest of the bar
population and asked me to dance.

Closing my eyes I recall in vivid clarity
the details of that encounter. A song had just ended, and Melanie
and I were laughing on the dance floor. I leaned closer to her in
order to be heard and said, “I’m going to get a drink.”

Turning toward the bar, I ran smack into the
lithe, muscular chest of Ben. Losing my balance, he quickly caught
me by the arm before I fell. I remember having to look up in order
to see his face, and I rarely have to look up to see anybody. The
string of curses preparing to launch themselves from my lips was
instantly lost as I gazed into those cool blue eyes. Smiling down
at me, he apologized while gently maintaining a hold of my arm. I
must have agreed to dance with him because moments later he was
steering us out onto the floor, but honestly I can’t remember any
words having left my mouth. To hear Ben tell it, watching me dance
Friday night after Friday night was so distracting he’d lost a
small fortune playing cards. Getting up and asking me to dance was
the only thing he could think of to end his losing streak.

We dated for about two weeks. After wading
through all the get-to-know-you crap, it became obvious we got
along superbly, we had a similar outlook on, well, everything, and
we both wanted a simple life with a family and a house by the
beach. So we went to Vegas and eloped. After extending the
honeymoon to include a short trip to Cancun, we made the awkward
trips to meet the in-laws. I was nervous. Ben’s family is quite
wealthy and, with my preconceived notions about rich people being
snooty, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Turns out the apple didn’t
fall far from the tree—I absolutely adored Ben’s folks. They also
graciously offered to let us live in their beach house in return
for maintaining the property. When I took Ben to meet my folks, I
was just happy my dad didn’t kill him for running off and marrying
me unannounced.

“Hurry up, before I finish your breakfast
booze,” Ben yells from the kitchen.

He means mimosas!
I think to myself, and the thought of a mimosa
instantly has me reminiscing about our trip to Cancun. Ben had to
keep ordering me replacements because I kept misplacing
them.

Well, that’s not entirely how it
happened.

We must have ducked into every vacant corner
of that resort for a quickie.

That means I was constantly setting my drink
down, and after our trysts when we would sneak back into the
populated areas of the hotel, my glass was always missing. The
drinks were probably picked up by the overly efficient
wait-staff.

That was a great trip.

Groaning, I roll out of bed and reach for my
bathrobe. In my semi-lucid state, I’m too busy adjusting the ties
on my robes to look where I’m going.

“Shit!” I scream, tripping over yet another
pile of Ben’s clothes.

Mr. Incredible can go to
hell
, I think to myself.
His bad habit has almost killed me twice in one
week.

Fully awake and ready to do battle, I march
down the hallway into the kitchen. Hearing my approach, Ben hands
me a halfway full champagne glass. Eyeballing the missing top two
inches and snatching it from his hand, I rush straight into my
tirade.

“Twice,” I say shaking my
fist for emphasis. “
Twice
you’ve almost killed me this week. How many times
do I have to ask you to put your stupid clothes in the
hamper?”

Nonchalantly turning around from the stove
and crossing his arms, Ben cracks that school boy grin and replies,
“Do you really expect a man to ignore his half naked wife, whom he
hasn’t seen in three days, just to be sure his clothing makes it
into the hamper?” Turning back around to the stove and checking the
eggs he continues. “Honestly, Gwen, I’m more thoughtful than that.
My wife’s sexual needs come first.”

Laughing out loud, I throw a balled up dish
towel at him as all the anger seeps from my body.

Damn it
, I think to myself crossing the room to wrap my arms around
him,
he’s just so hard to be mad
at.

“Can you hand me the plates?” he asks,
breaking our connection. Handing him the requested items, I then
grab silverware and condiments for us before sitting down at the
breakfast table. Handing me a plate, Ben sits down across from me
and starts eating.

“So,” he says, “you wanna tell me about
work?”

I’m usually eager to reconnect our first
morning home together after his shifts at the station. Today I roll
my eyes before launching into a rant about the trials and
tribulations of my week.

“Hmm, sounds rough,” Ben responds when I’m
finished. Grinning, he adds, “I understood less than half of the
big words you used, so I know it must have been a long week.”

Returning his smile and feeling a little
better I ask, “How was your week?”

“Pretty standard. No fires but plenty of
other calls.”

The dynamics of Ben’s job and some of the
ridiculous calls they get never cease to amaze me. I need those
humorous stories to keep me from fretting over the more dangerous
aspects of his job.

“We’re headed into wildfire season though,
so that could change.”

Yes
, I think to myself,
summer changes
everything.

Wildfires are common in California during
the hotter months. Like many county firemen, Ben has participated
multiple times in the fight against the wildfires that threaten
populated areas. It makes me cringe every time. His job is life
threatening enough without throwing Mother Nature on top of it. It
is what it is, though, and needlessly worrying about it is
fruitless, so I keep my misgivings to myself.

“So is my lab rat going into work today?”
Ben teases me.

Tapping my foot while looking out the
window, I consider his question. While part of me is dying to work
on the life-sucking project that is compound 253B, the other part
wants to never think about it again. Laughing at my ridiculous
dilemma, Ben makes the decision easy for me.

“Why don’t you come to the beach with me and
some of the guys today. They’re all bringing their families, it’ll
be fun.”

Looking him in the eye, I reply, “Okay.”

“You’re the only one I know who might be
happiest at work, Gwen, and it’s a little creepy,” he says shaking
his head. “Go on and grab a shower, I’ll clean up here.”

Turning on the shower, I close the door and
step back, giving it a chance to become nice and steamy. Taking
advantage of the time until then, I head back into the bedroom.
Picking up Ben’s offending pile of clothing off the floor, I carry
the armload into the closet and deposit it in the hamper.

“See, that isn’t so hard,” I mutter under my
breath. Returning to the bathroom, I flip on the radio and climb
into the shower, sighing as the near scalding temperature of the
water warms my body. After a minute or so, I turn the temperature
down to a more reasonable level and relax, leaning my back up
against the wall. Closing my eyes, my mind drifts along with the
lyrics of a song.

Lost in the moment, I almost miss the soft
click of the shower door alerting me to the fact my humid sanctuary
has been invaded by another person. Eyes still closed, I scoot
further along down the wall, wedging myself into the corner, making
as much room as possible for my large companion. The snapping sound
of opening shampoo bottles reaches my ears moments before a soft
loofah lightly brushes over each of my nipples.

Squinting into the heavy mist of water
deflected off of Ben, I cock my head to the side and ask, “What do
you think you are doing?”

“Helping you wash,” he answers, a playful
grin lighting up his face. Looking down, the bubbles have begun to
drip off of my breasts and run down my stomach, gravity aiding them
on their journey toward the drain.

Gazing into his inviting expression, I take
a step closer to him. Stretching up onto my tiptoes, I lean against
his chest and whisper, “You missed a spot,” into his ear.

Feeling his whole body tense with
excitement, his hands reach around my hips drawing me closer. My
fingers run through his hair as my lips grace his jawline, seeking
the heat of his mouth. As he pushes us up against the wall, my back
arches and my hands slip behind his neck, desperate to maintain
possession of his lips.

Stroking the side of my face, he pulls back
slightly, whispering in a throaty voice, “Don’t worry, I’ll get
there.”

Grasping the loofah once more, he gently
continues what he started, working from my fingertips to my toes,
his hands massaging as they lather, his lips paying homage to my
freshly cleansed skin. A slow burning and euphoric throbbing unfold
in the pit of my stomach long before he reaches the alluded to
spot. The first brush of his fingers over that sensitive skin sends
me over the edge, and I clutch his shoulders as I ride the wave of
my orgasm to completion.

Panting, I relax in his arms. He continues,
sliding himself inside of me, finding a rhythm that grows in
intensity until we both cry out from the release at climax.

Holding each other in the warm cascade of
water I ask for the millionth time, “Who are you?” to which he
replies, “Just a guy, loving his girl.”

Chapter 18

The sounds of another day come crashing down
on me as I lie in bed. Eyes closed, flat on my back, my mind is
clear, my body whole and undamaged. The brutal stimuli of pain have
fled. Pity, I’m deprived even the gratification of wallowing in the
agony inflicted upon my person last night.

Yay for Wanderer
abilities
, I think sarcastically. I’m not
even left with a hangover for my troubles. My mind begins to reel
as I reach full consciousness, my thoughts consuming me. I open my
eyes and sit up, seeking escape from the plague of thoughts that’s
out of my control.

Perched on a kitchen chair in front of the
bay windows of the bedroom, motionless, is Hal.

“You were unconscious when we dragged you in
here last night. Covered in bruises and bleeding from the temple. I
think you had a few broken ribs as well. How is that possible,
Kade?”

“It’s my gift,” I say, refusing to look at
him as I head toward the bathroom.