Pulled(62)
Author: A.L. Jackson

I watched while he stood on the porch and talked to someone for a few minutes before leaving, angrier than when he had arrived.

When I’d finally made it inside their house, I was shaken. The only thing on my mind was Melanie’s safety, and it wasn’t until she’d stepped away from me to get her coat and purse that I’d noticed what she wore. It was single-handedly the most arousing thing I’d ever seen.

Melanie had always been breathtakingly beautiful, but she’d grown into the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. I’d spent the evening dueling with my self-control. My body was hyperaware of her every move, the way she’d cross and uncross her legs under the table, her leg brushing up against mine as she did. My blood slowly simmered, building to a rol ing boil. I’d managed to keep myself restrained until Melanie slid from the booth, and then it was all over. I had to touch, to feel where light met dark.

Her skin was like fire against my fingertips. I’d never left a restaurant so fast in my life.

Now I found myself trying to focus on the road in front of me. It was nearly impossible as Melanie inconspicuously tried to rub her thighs together. Her fingers kneaded the leather, her breath still heavy as she unabashedly stared at me from her seat. I glared at the hem of her dress, silently cursing it for taunting me all night. She must have noticed my expression as she tugged on it.

“Don’t look at me like that. I had to borrow something from Katie.”

I couldn’t help but grin at her, a smal laugh escaping as I shook my head. She couldn’t be more off base.

“No, baby, I like the dress.” I was just going to like it much, much more in a pile on my bedroom floor. “You look…really good.” Too good. She relaxed when I reached out and gently tugged a fistful of the material, showing her just how much I liked it.

Pul ing into the parking garage, I swung the car into my spot. I jumped out and rushed around, nearly dragging Melanie from the car in my excitement to get her upstairs. A shiver ran up my spine with the sound of her pealing laughter as she raced to keep up with me. Her face was radiant. She giggled, and her brown curls bounced against her shoulders as she struggled to keep up.

Absolutely exquisite.

In one fluid movement, I spun her into a little half twirl, guiding our arms over her head before I drew her back to my chest. My nose nuzzled her hair, and we slowly swayed to the rhythm of our pounding hearts in an impromptu dance.

The elevator chimed, and we stepped forward.

The energy between us was nearly insufferable in the tight quarters. My hands were firm on her stomach as I drew her to me. Reaching up behind her, she wrapped her arm around the nape of my neck. Soft fingers were in my hair, pul ing, tugging, massaging. My sudden lightheadedness had nothing to do with the elevator ride to the twenty-first floor. The door opened, and I took her hand to lead her out.

“Ready?”

She smiled timidly, sidling to my side. My nerves flared as I prepared to show her where I lived. Would this be our home? I unlocked the door, and she stepped in. Her face was thoughtful as she assessed the large, open space. Her words from long ago rang out, “It would never be home unless you’re here in it with me,” and I knew it didn’t matter. Wherever we lived, it would be home simply because we were together.

I watched as she explored my apartment, her fingers reaching out to touch the throw pil ows Erin and Mom had picked out to match the couches, inspecting the art on the wal s. Whenever she recognized the few things from our house, a faint smile would grace her lips. She pulled one of the photo albums from the bookshelf, gasping when she saw most of the pictures were of her.

A tear slid down her cheek, and I cautiously came up behind her. “I told you I never let you go, Melanie.”

“I know. This was just unexpected.” She flipped through the pages smiling through her tears, every few seconds glancing at me when she’d come across one that seemed to provoke a particularly fond memory. “This is amazing, Daniel. I can’t believe you have these.” Her hands trembled when she came to the last. The tips of her fingers lovingly traced the outline. “You have this, too?” She looked up at me; her eyes filled with wonder as she asked me about the one picture I had of Eva, the one Mom had snapped the first time I’d held her. I nodded before realizing snapped the first time I’d held her. I nodded before realizing what Melanie had said.

“Wait, you have this picture? How?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing.

“There was this box from the hospital; it was filled with a bunch of get wel cards and stuff. I found it under my bed in Dal as. I have no idea how it even got there.” She shook her head. “Anyway, this was in there. I found it the day…” She closed her eyes, her voice tapering off.

“What day?” I reached out to stroke her cheek, encouraging her to open up to me.

“The day I went back for you. I saw it and knew I had to go.”

“Melanie,” I said as I breathed out. I removed the album from her hands, set it aside, and wrapped her up in my arms, kissing her tear-fil ed eyes. She buried her head in my chest.

“It’s okay, Daniel. I’m just thankful to have had it…to have a face to put with Eva’s memory.” God, I couldn’t even imagine what she must have felt when she found it. I could remember Eva’s face, the way she felt in my arms, the way she smell ed, even the little sounds she made. But Melanie only had the smal picture.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish you would have seen her.”

“Me too.”

“Can you believe we would have had a nine-year-old by now?” I barely choked out the sentence, and Melanie’s arms tightened around my waist.

“She would have been amazing. Smart and

sweet. She would have had your eyes,” she said as she pulled back to look at me with glistening eyes and a smile on her face.

“And your hair.” I ran my hands through her hair, twisting my fingers through the curls as I imagined it on a little girl with my eyes.

I buried my face her hair. It felt so good to comfort her, to talk to her about it, to finally feel like the man I was supposed to be, and to be there for his family. This was what Melanie needed, what I needed, to mourn together over our lost daughter. Yeah, it was nine years late, but it was necessary and surprisingly welcome.

Melanie stepped back, released a heavy breath, and shook herself off. Squeezing my hand, she whispered,

“Thank you.”

I shook my head and tucked her hair behind her ear, taking the opportunity to touch her face. “I needed that as much as you, Melanie.”