Stronger Page 5

  "Des?" I say as he steps into the elevator with me. "What are you doing here?"

  His eyes flick over my outfit and it's like I'm naked all over again, ready to be bent over and spanked. The worst part is that I almost crave it. I want it to relieve the tension inside me.

  Damn, I am screwed in the head.

  "I thought I'd come to you for a change," Des says. "A little surprise visit. Just to talk."

  "I was just leaving." My eyes flit from his as he blocks my way out. A waft of his cologne drifts into my lungs like a sedative.

  "I only need a few minutes. What floor are you again?" he asks as he punches the number of my floor.

  The doors slide shut. I want to groan. I'm giving in again. It always starts like this--I say no, he says yes, I think of how he'll touch me and I become useless. Fuck me.

  "I would've thought you'd be in the penthouse, Lyddle. Don't I give you enough money?"

  I don't say a word as the elevator jogs back up to my floor. I'm surprised that he doesn't try to get closer, as elevators were always our thing. Well, everything was our thing.

  "We'll have to talk about your clothing choice," he murmurs.

  I can feel my resolve slipping away like a sand timer with a hole busted out of the side. I can't give in today. For once in my damned life, I've got to stand my ground. I can't let him into my apartment.

  My eyes are on the floor as the elevator door slides open and I hear an apartment door open down the hall. I hope Mrs. Lowt spots Des and comes shooting out. I really hope she does. She hates him and I could use all the distractions I can get to keep him out of my apartment. I shift from foot to foot, waiting to be saved as Des steps off the elevator and into the hall.

  Instead, Aidan emerges from his apartment and comes straight toward us. My stomach drops. Des turns back when he realizes I haven't followed him and catches me looking at Aidan. Aidan catches the whole eye-conversation too. The two begin eye-jousting as Aidan puts his hand on the elevator door to keep it open.

  "How's it going, Lydia?" he says. "Want to share an elevator ride down?"

  Desmond answers for me, "No, she doesn't. We were just coming up."

  "Funny," Aidan tips his head, looking only at me. "I thought I just heard you go out."

  Des puts out his hand.

  "Let's go, Lyddle," he says.

  "Or you could just ride down with me," Aidan returns, his voice all warm and inviting. I want to hide from them both. Des puts his fingertips on Aidan's arm.

  "I didn't get your name?" Des says. It's not a friendly inquiry. Not from the look on his face. Aidan shoots him a wise-ass smile as he pulls his arm away.

  "I'm her neighbor," he says. Then, back to me, "So, how about it, Lydia? You want to come with me?"

  "Tell this man that you don't, Lyddle," Des says tightly. "Right now, please."

  "I'm fine," I say.

  "You don't look fine."

  "This is none of your business," Desmond says and Aidan's glare swings at him.

  "And who are you? What's your name, buddy? Is it George?"

  "This is my husband, Aidan," I say flatly. I step out of the elevator as every trace of expression slides right off Aidan's face. He goes silent and takes a step backward as if he's been pushed into the lift.

  "Oh," he says. Des leans in and hits the ground floor button. The elevator doors slide closed on Aidan's blank face.

  "Nice to meet you," Desmond replies with a little wave.

  <<<<>>>>

  "Let's go have a talk," Des says.

  "Not now. You can't just show up. I have things to do."

  "I'll pay for your time," he says, reaching into his pocket. He extracts a wad of bills, wrapped in a thick green roll and secured with a rubber band.

  He planned it this way.

  He knew I'd object.

  But I can use the money.

  I tell myself I'll use it to get divorce papers. Yeah, right. I take the wad.

  We walk down to my apartment. I slide the key in the door. Mrs. Lowt doesn't save me.

  "So, Lydia." Des's voice is all smooth once we're inside, running his vocal fingers over my mental shelves, checking for dust. "Your neighbor--Aidan, wasn't it?--he's very protective over you. Why?"

  "I have no idea. He just moved in," I say. I stand near the door as Des tours the apartment, observing the empty, re-installed shelves, the trash can still full of broken glass, checking the view from the window.

  "Who's George?" he says.

  "A friend."

  "A friend." He takes his time crossing the room. "Lyddle, do you think that's appropriate?"

  "Don't play with my head, Des," I say, raising my chin. He reaches up, curling his fingers under it and resting his thumb on my chin. "You're only my husband on paper."

  "You've gotten such a smart mouth," he says, his eyes on my lips. The horrible tingle of his touch makes me feel like he's rubbing dirt all over me. Even worse, I like it. "I might need to do something about that mouth."

  "I'm not doing anything with you right now."

  He smirks, his eyes trailing down to my quaking fingers. "I only came to talk, Lyddle. What's got you in such a big hurry?"

  "I broke my mirror. I have to go order another one."

  "That explains your attire, doesn't it." He reaches for my hand, giving it a tug, so I follow him to the couch.

  "Come," he says, all velvet and steel. "It won't take long, I promise."

  He paid me. I tell myself that's the only reason why I sit on the couch beside him. Des reclines, his arm spread across the back, his fingertips touching my hair. He glances around the apartment again.

  "This is such a small place," he says.

  "That's what happens when your husband leaves you," I tell him. "You don't need so much space."

  "Oh, now," Des drawls, straightening his wrist cuff. "That smart mouth again, Lyddle? Is that how this is going to go?"

  "What did you come for?"

  "First things first," he says. "I give you more than enough money to afford a nicer place than this, don't I?"

  "This is good enough."

  "Well, that's always been the problem, hasn't it, Lyddle? Haven't you learned anything from me? You should never be happy with good enough. Move closer to me."

  I scoot over, until I'm next to him. His fingers play in my hair, massage my skin. He leans in and places a warm kiss at the base of neck. He knows what melts me. His lips on my body have had a track record of erasing all the crappy things he's done to me.

  "Damn it, Des," I moan. "This is wrong. It's got to stop."

  He just laughs, blowing his warm breath over my skin. "You're still my wife. And a wife is never supposed to refuse her husband."

  "Tell that to your other wife." I say. His grip tightens on my arm as he drags me even closer. I fall into the dip between the cushions.

  "Don't be jealous, Lyddle. You know I care for Claudia, for different reasons. I don't know why you constantly want to give me such a hard time about this. You're the one that has always had my heart. Why aren't you happy? Do you want to go back to being poor? I can finally give you whatever you want now..."

  "I never wanted anything but you."

  He softens at that. "I'm right here, Lyddle. You've got me. You've always got me." He pushes back my hair and lays his lips tenderly to my neck again, tracing the skin to my collar bone with the moist warmth of his mouth. "I miss you so much. This arrangement isn't forever. I promise."

  "It's been three years," I say, but I am already losing ground, melting away beneath the heat of his tongue. Damn him. I already know I'll lie awake tonight, reviewing whatever happens in the next hour or so, hating myself for taking Claudia's money, hating him for giving it.

  His hands skim over the front of me, tracing the Bermuda triangle beneath my clothes. That's what he always called it, since he said he loses his mind every time he touches it.

  The stroking of his fingertips temporarily blurs the shame. His tongue moves against mine and I d
rink it in, nixing any further conversation.

  "Now," he murmurs when I come up for air. "I want to see how you're dressed. Stand up and let me look."

  I'm stupid to do it, stupid to keep on letting this happen. He's cheating on both me and his fake wife in one shot and I'm helping him do it by never telling, never stopping him.

  But I have a stubborn thought that I use to justify it all. He's still married to me. I still have feelings for him that I keep shored up, bulging inside my heart, as my desire roars behind them. This was the first man I ever loved, the first man I ever made love to. His presence still makes me feel like things will be okay, even though he's the one who has made everything go wrong.

  "I said, I want to see how you're dressed, Lyddle. Are you wearing the right panties? Will you let me see?" he whispers.

  He is my tragedy. My sick, sick addiction.

  I turn away and bend over in front of him, offering him the length of my thigh, the opening of my skirt.

  "Yes," I say as I close my eyes and wait for his touch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED

  My sunglasses make the inside of the elevator even darker on my ride down to the lobby, an hour after Des has gone.

  I had to be sure he was long gone, so I could put my head back together best I could, without a drink. My hands are quaking, thanks to George's rampage. I reassure myself, as the elevator sinks past the floors, that this will be the last time I do any of that with Des, but it's a helluva lot easier to believe that lie when I chase it with a few Mojitos.

  The sunglasses are all I've got, and not nearly enough, as the doors glide open and I'm standing face-to-face with Aidan. His eyes roll over me and he cocks his head.

  Great. I'm not really armed for an extra shaming. I try to brush past him with a polite grin, since he's the last person I want to see right now, but, of course, he wants to talk.

  "Nice shades," he says. "And a new outfit, isn't it?"

  "Is it?" I say absently, as if I have no idea that the other is upstairs in my hamper, too stained to wear out in public.

  "Your husband...he's an interesting character." Aidan smiles all good-natured-neighborishly.

  "Yes, he is."

  "Is he always like that to you?

  "Like what?"

  "An asshole."

  I decide then and there that Aidan needs to remember what we are to each other and that I'm not the helpless princess waiting for his white-knighted ass to save me. He might be right on target--Des is a total asshole--but the deposits he just made are still rolled in my pocket and still slick between my legs. He's still my husband.

  "We're neighbors, Aidan," I say with a wry smile. "How about we just keep it that way?"

  He nods with a little frown. "Alright."

  "Thanks," I say, whisking past him and out the lobby doors. I'm happy to be wearing the dark shades because, for some reason, my eyes are welling up with tears.

  <<<<>>>>

  I order the mirror and pick it up four excruciating days later. I haven't even bothered to leave my apartment, since I can't really see what I look like in the medicine cabinet. Down to the last of the Jim Beam, I was relieved when the store finally called to say the mirror was ready for pick up. I spend three hours getting myself ready and still step out of my apartment feeling like I'd rolled in mud.

  It would've taken an extra three days to have it delivered, so I decided to pick it up myself, which turns out to be a monumental mistake.

  The mirror is a bitch to drag home.

  It's an even bigger bitch to drag through the lobby and into the elevator.

  And it's almost a totally broken bitch when I lose my grip and it tips over in front of my door. Mrs. Lowt rushes out of her apartment, nearly stampeding me in the hallway.

  "Lydia, what is going on out here? Why are you making so much noise?" She circles the enormous, rectangle box as if she's a bomb-sniffing dog. She drags her finger over the word stamped on the cardboard. "Mirror? What kind of mirror is this big? A ceiling mirror?" Her smile is almost hopeful. "Is that what you got here? Are you making one of those kinky bedrooms--with mirrors and chains and the poles for dancing?"

  "No." I smile at her, a little disappointed to be kicking down her expectations of me. "This is just a regular, full-length mirror. It's the kind that stands in the corner."

  She's not giving up that easy. "So you can see everything in the bed?"

  "No, I just use it to see how I'm dressed," I say. Why I have to add it, I have no idea, but I do-- "My professional outfits."

  "A professional," she says with a knowing nod. "Oh, Lydia. Why do you want to do that? And the men...the men you bring back here--at least they're good looking. I wouldn't charge them myself, but that's not good for business to tell them that, is it? Where do you find the handsome ones that pay?"

  "Oh my God, Mrs. Lowt! I'm not a prostitute! Those are my...boyfriends."

  Her sly grin disappears as she plants her hands on her hips.

  "Boyfriends come back, Lydia," she says. "The only one that ever comes back is the one that was here today. The one I don't like. I hoped he was gone, since I haven't seen him in a while."

  "Desmond? He's an old friend," I say. I've been careful to never tell her that Des is my husband. She already pries too much and I'm worried that if Claudia ever decided to investigate, Mrs. Lowt would be a gold mine. "Why don't you like him?"

  "He's got a mean way about him. All wrong for you. I can see it in his eyes."

  I squat down to grab the end of the mirror box, so she can't see the shiver that runs through my legs. "You nailed him."

  "You need a good man, Lydia. Just one." She skitters out of the way as I heave the mirror upright.

  The elevator doors open at the end of the hall and Aidan steps out. I haven't seen him since I told him to mind his own business, four days ago. I've heard him coming and going, his door has a particular squeak, and although I thought about meeting him in the hall and apologizing for being such a hard ass to him, I didn't.

  He walks toward us, a computer store bag dangling from his fingers, his gait calm and graceful. I could fall in love with his body; even if I could only fall in love with it three times--damn the rules--but those three times might be enough love to last me all my life.

  "A good one like him, right?" I ask Mrs. Lowt with an appreciative smile, but she shakes her head.

  "No, that one needs a real woman," she says, her eyes drooping seductively. They actually look more like trashcan lids being compacted behind her enormous glasses. "Aidan needs someone who knows exactly what she wants and can treat him like the man he is."

  "Someone like you?" I ask with a giggle.

  Mrs. Lowt licks her lips. "You got it, toots."

  "Hello, neighbors," Aidan says with a two finger salute to us. His eyes dust over the box, but he gets his keys out for his door. I would swear all my muscles are about to pop out of my face from dragging this mirror as far as I have, but I'd rather just heave the fucking mirror into my apartment on my own than have to pay for his help by answering his questions.

  "Neighbors help," Mrs. Lowt squawks too loud for Aidan to ignore it.

  "You need help, Lydia?" he asks. But he's not just asking. He's being a wise ass.

  "I think I've got it," I grunt.

  "You don't have it," Mrs. Lowt says, waving our handsome neighbor over. "You come here, Aidan. Do what men do. Be a man and carry this box in for Lydia."

  He plays along, sliding his keys back into his pocket. He walks over and takes the end of the box from me with a smug smile. I'm about to pass out, but Aidan hefts the mirror box like it's a chopstick. He nods to my door.

  "Open up, Lydia."

  I do as he says with a sour glare. He carries the box right in.

  "Show off," I mumble.

  "Weakling," he says, but he laughs.

  Mrs. Lowt takes a step toward my door, as if she's going to follow Aidan in, but I block her way.

  "
Thank you, Mrs. Lowt! I'll talk to you later!" I say.

  "Ohhh, Lydia!" she whines, but I close the door on her anyway. I don't want her nosing around my apartment and I really don't want to stand around while she mauls Aidan. She can do that in the hall on her own time. I just want to get my mirror set up and then have Aidan clear out.

  "Where do you want me to put it?" he asks.

  "In the bedroom would be great," I say. Great, indeed. I watch his lean back, tight and angular beneath his shirt, as he carries the mirror into my room. He's got a rear end that makes his Levi's look like art. He puts the box on end, in the same corner where I had the last one.

  "I can take it out for you, if you like," he says. I snicker at his innuendo. I'd sure like it to be more than just words, but...no. It doesn't change the fact that he lives next door.

  "It can stay where it is. I'll pull it out and put it together later."

  "I could do it for you."

  "You've done enough, but thanks."

  He shrugs. "Just trying to be neighborly."

  I cross my arms over my chest.

  "Are you going to be like this forever?" I ask.

  "Neighborly?"

  "No, angry."

  "I'm not angry at all. But how about you? Are you always going to be secretive and suspicious?"

  "Damn, you're nosey."

  "Seems kind of suspicious that you refuse to answer the question."

  He's wearing me out, or maybe he's just wearing me down, with that lazy smile of his. I'm almost glad. I'd rather us be friends instead of enemies.

  "What do you want from me, Aidan?" I almost hope he says something that will involve our tongues and/or our hips.

  He shrugs as he turns away and opens the end of the box. "Friendship."

  I don't insist that he stop as he slides out the mirror. Instead, I watch his muscles move as he sets up the solid wood frame. I imagine his hands on me, instead of the bags of parts.