Visions of Destiny (Complete Series) Page 29

  Joan and Brad glanced at each other and shared a look of confusion that didn’t escape Woods’ notice.

  “I mean,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward Brad, “You might be wondering if you should propose. The moment when you decide to do it would change your life.” Now he pointed at Joan. “But maybe your future spouse knew you were the one she’d marry since the moment you first met. Or maybe she’ll only realize years after you’re married that she made the right decision when she said yes.”

  As she looked at Brad, Daisy could see reflected on his face the very same question she was asking herself.

  “Was that—” Brad started, but Woods seemed to have guessed his question as well and he interrupted him at once.

  “This was just a random example, not an actual vision.”

  Not Joan’s vision, he meant, but maybe even saying so would have been sharing too much. Despite his refusal to speak plainly about the visions, he had come close to hinting at some things several times that night. Even his ‘hypothetical’ scenarios had a ring of truth about them. It must have been terribly lonely, Daisy realized, not to be able to talk about any of it with anyone. Maybe this loneliness was why Woods kept talking now.

  “It’s very strange, really,” he said, a little absentmindedly. “Sometimes, it’s a really small decision that transforms a person’s life; a decision anyone else might have made without thinking twice about it. And sometimes other people’s lives literally hang in the balance. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, but in the end all I can say is this: you won’t know what that moment is until you’ve experienced your vision.”

  His eyes found Daisy’s as he finished. She wondered if he was talking for Brad’s benefit or if he was trying to convince her again.

  “All right,” Brad said with a sharp nod. “I’m ready.”

  “And that’s my cue to get out of here,” Joan said quickly. Turning to Brad, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips before leaving the balcony, her hands rubbing the chill of the night from her bare arms.

  Daisy followed her without a word and, as she closed the window, heard Brad say, nervousness suddenly coloring his words, “I don’t do this kind of stuff, you know. I’ve never even kissed anyone other than Joan, and a man would definitely not be my first choice.”

  Woods chuckled weakly. “Believe me, I’m not going to enjoy this any more than you will.”

  They shared a laugh, maybe a little more comfortable over feeling the same awkwardness. Woods’ gaze flicked toward the window. Realizing she still hadn’t closed it, Daisy pulled it shut. She turned away and did not see the kiss that would start one more vision.

  * * * *

  The front door had never seemed so austere and unforgiving. The zinnias in the planters on either side of the welcome mat had long since died, but Brad had yet to either replace the flowers or remove the planters. Zinnias were Joan’s favorite. As guilty as he felt for not having kept the flowers alive, it felt wrong for him to touch these planters. Just as wrong, in fact, as it felt to lead another woman to the door, his damp palm pressed against hers, his fingers entwined with hers.

  And yet leading Melissa to his house was exactly what he was doing. He had picked her up at her place four hours earlier; they had gone out to a restaurant and talked for far longer than they had spent eating. When the time had come to drive her home, he had asked her if, maybe, she would like to have a last drink at his place.

  Seeing how she knew he didn’t drink anymore, she had guessed exactly what he meant by that. She had answered with a smile, a soft kiss, and said, “Yes, I would love to,” the words blooming on her lips like flowers.

  But now that they were there, now that the door and those planters were mere feet away, Brad didn’t know anymore what he had been thinking. He didn’t know anymore if he could do this.

  Maybe sensing his moment of hesitation, Melissa squeezed his hand, drawing his eyes to her. In the distant glow of a streetlight, her skin seemed a little darker than its normal golden tan hue. Her eyes were soft and understanding, the small lines at the corners all but erased by the darkness. She didn’t say anything, for which he was grateful, but her smile steadied his nerves a little. She had been nothing if not patient, waiting for him to be ready, taking things in stride when he had backed down twice already. This time he wouldn’t, though. He had promised himself he wouldn’t.

  He squeezed her hand in return then let go to unlock the door. As he swung it open, he pressed a finger to his lips, reminding Melissa to be quiet. She nodded and walked in first. Brad followed, locking the door behind him. By sheer habit, he toed off his shoes and left them by the door. His hand easily found hers again and he led her upstairs to his bedroom. She had been in the house before, but had always remained on the first floor. They had never done more than kiss and never, ever here. But tonight that would change.

  Silence blanketed the house, every creak of the staircase or wooden floors seeming much too loud. Brad held his breath and winced at every little noise. Even his heart sounded overly noisy beating a staccato rhythm as though he had just run for miles. The thought that he ought to take up running again struck him, unexpected and irrelevant at that moment. It was only one more thing that had been part of his life for so long; one more thing he missed.

  They walked past the boys’ rooms and Brad was relieved to hear no sound from either. No light filtered underneath the doors. He had called earlier to tell them not to wait for him and go to bed. Joey, the oldest, had scoffed into the phone and reminded him that as a college student he didn’t care all that much about curfews. But there had been something else in his voice too, the quiet thankfulness that Brad had called to check on them. Brad had hung up in a hurry, spluttering, when Joey had asked him to say hi to Melissa from them.

  They finally reached the master bedroom. With a slightly shaky hand, Brad pushed the door open and tightened his other hand over Melissa’s as he drew her in. He let go just past the threshold so she wouldn’t have to stumble in the dark in an unfamiliar room.

  “Just a second,” he breathed, and hurried to the bedside table. His fingers fumbled over the knob before he managed to twist it. A soft muted light pooled by the headboard, throwing shadows across the room. Brad turned around, and for a second, even less than a second, his mind played a trick on him. For this briefest of instants, he could see Joan standing against the closed door, long hair loose on her shoulders, her summer dress hugging her curves and—

  And it wasn’t Joan standing there.

  His heart lurched at the realization. A wave of guilt immediately followed.

  “Don’t,” Melissa murmured.

  She came forward, slipping off her sandals before she reached him. The bangle bracelets on her wrist jingled when she raised one hand, then the other, cupping his face between them.

  “Don’t,” she repeated, still as quietly. “I understand it’s difficult for you. I do. I’m not asking you to forget her. I only want to try to make you happy again. From all you’ve told me about her, I know she would have wanted you to be happy.”

  Brad’s throat felt too tight for words but he pushed them out anyway. “You do make me happy. I only hope I can make you happy too.”

  She gave a shallow nod. “You do. So don’t think. Don’t remember. Don’t feel. Just this time, be.”

  She pressed her mouth to Brad’s in a short, sweet kiss.

  “Be with me,” she continued, her lips moving against Brad’s like a caress. “Be happy. Just be you.”

  Another kiss, and this one was longer if just as sweet, her tongue pressing gently against his lips before sliding in alongside his. Brad tilted his head to deepen the kiss but Melissa pulled back. She observed him for a few seconds. Brad had no idea what she could possibly see in him, no idea why she had been interested in him at all even after she had realized how broken he was, a piece of him gone forever. She hadn’t trie
d to take Joan’s place in Brad’s heart; she had only made a place for herself right next to it.

  “If you’re not ready,” she said slowly, gravely, “we can stop. But I think you are ready to move forward. And I think you want this as much as I do.”

  Brad couldn’t deny that last part, not when she was so close to him, her body tight against his, too close to ignore his cock pressing hard and thick against her upper thigh.

  Tentatively, he laid his hands on her hips. After a beat, he slid them upward, along her torso then to her back, and gently pressed her forward. He had time to see her smile before he closed his eyes and kissed her again.

  She was only the second woman he had ever kissed, and every time they did—every time his lips caressed hers, a prelude to a deeper kiss—he could only marvel at how familiar this felt. How familiar, and at the same time, how strange. There was no difference in height between them, and while he was used to tilting his head down, he didn’t need to now. The sheer taste of her mouth was different, too. She was a tea lover, and the flavor often lingered on her tongue, replacing the coffee aroma he was familiar with. And then there were her hands, never resting on his shoulders like he half expected, but instead rubbing along his arms, stroking his back, adding caresses to the sensual touch of their mouths and tongues.

  She let out a little sigh when they parted and looked at him again from under heavy eyelids.

  “Can I…” she murmured, but rather than completing the question, she showed him what she meant by trailing her fingers over his chest and to the front of his shirt, starting to undo the buttons.

  Brad remained motionless in front of her, hands at his sides, watching her face as she made quick work of his shirt, then his undershirt. Her eyes remained focused on her task, progressively growing darker along with her need. When his bare chest was revealed, she made a small sound of appreciation and ran her fingertips in loops and arabesques over his skin until Brad was shivering under her touch, goose bumps blazing down his arms.

  Her eyes flickered up to his face again, and for the second time she whispered, “Can I?”

  Thinking he knew what she meant, Brad gave a small nod.

  She bit down on her bottom lip when she reached for his belt and started undoing it. A hint of tooth peeked out against her pink lip. It was adorable. Brad was about to say so when she pushed the belt buckle aside and let her fingers flutter over his zipper.

  A flash of guilt ran through him, as swift and as unexpected as lightning. Thumping blood roared in his ears like thunder. Why it happened now rather than when they had kissed or when she had taken off his shirt, Brad couldn’t have said, but neither could he deny the strength of this feeling. Words like ‘vows’ and ‘betrayal’ and ‘adulterous’ and ‘cheater’ and ‘shame’ rang through his mind like deep bells struck in alarm.

  He closed his eyes, closed his fists, pushed back the guilt. He could do this. He was allowed to. Those vows had ended with the pledge, ‘until death do us part,’ after all. And he would never, ever have even fantasized about doing this if Joan—

  The brush of soft lips against his pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to find Melissa peering at him with a strange mix of desire and worry. She didn’t say a word but her raised eyebrow asked her question for her. Brad forced a smile to his lips then nodded again. The next second, he gasped. One of her hands sneaked inside his underwear and covered his cock while she pushed both his pants and boxers down with the other.

  The clothes slid down his legs. Even when they were on the floor after Brad had awkwardly stepped out of them and his socks, Melissa’s hand remained on his cock, warm against his burning flesh, rubbing gentle circles. The guilt he had felt moments ago had started deflating his interest, but under her ministrations, his cock soon thrummed with need. Each of Brad’s heartbeats sent another wave of desire pulsing through him.

  Belatedly realizing that there he was, standing naked and still, letting Melissa do all the touching when he could have made her feel good too, Brad raised a hand to stroke her arm.

  “My turn?” he asked quietly, but the nod he expected didn’t come. Instead, with a small smile and a twinkle in her eyes, Melissa pushed him back and down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. His cock wavered in front of him as though seeking that warm touch again, to no avail.

  She took her bracelets off first, sliding them off her wrist and putting them down on the night table. Then she held her hand up to him, palm out. When he gave her his hand she led it to the end of the bow that tied her wraparound dress. Under her guidance, his fingers closed over the silky fabric and when she took a step back, the knot came loose. Her dress slid open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of flesh.

  A roll of her shoulders caused the dress to slip off and slide to the floor with a whisper. Melissa stood in front of him, wearing nothing but a powder blue bra and matching panties, and a slight blush high on her cheeks. Brad let his gaze run over her, caressing her full curves and silky skin with his eyes. His fingers twitched on the mattress on either side of him, impatient to touch.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, all but choking on the words.

  Melissa flashed him a coy little smile.

  Stepping closer again, she climbed onto his lap, kneeling astride his legs so that her panties brushed against his cock. The sensation of lace and satin was as soft as her fingers now curling around his biceps. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He kissed her deeply again, one hand caressing her back while the other wove into her hair. She let out a quiet, almost purring sound into his mouth and bucked against him, her pelvis rocking against his flesh and transferring a trace of wetness. Her nipples were hard against his chest behind the satin that still covered them.

  That thin barrier of material suddenly seemed outrageous to Brad. He wanted to feel all of her, to caress all of her, with no straps or fabric standing in his way. He unsnapped her bra—or at least he tried to. His fingers fumbled with a kind of teenage nervousness against the unfamiliar clasp. Melissa broke their kiss and he felt her smile against his mouth, guessing that she would soon offer her help. But with a last effort he finally undid the clasp, and swallowed a sigh of relief when the bra slipped against his chest, the straps sliding down Melissa’s arms.

  He pulled back and allowed his fingers to trace long lines over Melissa’s shoulders and along her arms until he pulled the bra completely off and dropped it on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

  Again he gave himself a second to take in her generous forms, lovely mounds tipped with nipples that were dark and tight. He cupped her breasts in his hands, humming lightly at the weight of them and without thinking, leaned forward to brush his lips over the faint pink mark her bra had left, first over one breast, then the other.

  Melissa breathed out a sigh. Emboldened, Brad slid his mouth lower, tracing a wet path with his tongue all the way to a plump nipple. Melissa sat up straighter on his lap, her hands tight over his shoulders, offering her chest more fully to him. He took the opportunity to gently suck her nipple and drew the hard nub into his mouth.

  Melissa’s nails dug into his skin in response as she rocked her pelvis against Brad’s cock, sending sparks of fire up and down his spine. He dropped his hands to her ass and palmed her cheeks, supporting her, enjoying the yield of firm flesh. Her panties grew even damper, wet with Brad’s precome as well as her own arousal. Tiny, almost soundless gasps were falling from her lips, a symphony to Brad’s ears.

  Lifting his mouth from her nipple, he trailed the tip of his tongue over her skin and to her other breast. He could feel her tense in anticipation, pressing closer to him as though to urge the contact, but he eluded her efforts by circling her areola with his tongue and lips without quite touching it.

  “Tease,” she breathed, and the word held both amusement and frustration.

  Brad chuckled soundlessly and raised hi
s face toward hers. “I thought you were enjoying yourself. I guess I have to try harder.”

  The pun was lame—even Brad could admit that—but Melissa didn’t seem to mind all that much when he arched up against her, pressing hard where she needed pressure the most. She moaned softly, no trace of frustration left in her eyes as Brad rolled her over and laid her out on the bed.

  His hands coursed over her, mapping out her body and raising goose bumps in their path. They slid down to her hips, his thumbs hooking inside her panties to pull them off. Drinking in the sight of her naked body, Brad forbade himself from doing any kind of comparison. It wouldn’t have been fair to anyone.

  He began to lean down over her, craving her warmth against his entire body. He had been cold for so long…

  He stopped when Melissa whispered, “Do you have…” A delicate blush darkened her features a little more and she gave a little shrug. “You know. Condoms?”

  For the time of a blink, he froze, an apology already rising to his lips. He hadn’t thought of buying condoms. He hadn’t bought any in years. He hadn’t needed to.

  But then he remembered; Joan used to buy a box, every so often. They had used them as one more accessory when they role-played.

  He sat up, wiped his suddenly damp palms on his thighs and stammered a quick, “Oh, of…of course.”

  Feeling as awkward as a teenager yet again, he stretched out and reached for the bedside table. The drawer slid open with a whisper of wood and Brad reached in blindly, his fingers seeking the foil wrapped squares lying underneath what felt like silk scarves. He had looked for those scarves when he had cleaned up Joan’s closet. He had never thought of looking in the drawer. Why was it that there always seemed to be more little bits of Joan around him, even after he had tried so hard to lock them away?

  His fingers finally closed on a condom wrapper and he pulled his hand back out quickly, as though remaining in that drawer any longer would burn him. He rolled onto his back, only realizing how fast he was breathing when Melissa, lying down on her side alongside him, pressed a hand in the center of his chest. That simple touch weighed nothing; the weight of his conscience, on the other hand, was crushing.