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Oh God. What had she done?
She dropped her purse to the floor and raced upstairs. She tore the greasy clothes from her body, dumped them in the trash can, and adjusted the shower water as hot as she could stand it before stepping beneath the spray and scrubbing at her hair, her skin.
She wanted the feel of him off her body. The smell of him out of her pores. She could still smell him. She could still feel him.
She leaned her head against the shower wall and breathed in roughly, a sob tightening at her chest. Another man had touched her. His hands had cupped her breasts, his lips had sucked at her nipples, and his cock had rubbed, hard and heavy, against her clit, and she had been on the verge of begging for more.
“Nathan.” She pressed her face into the shower wall and let the cry free.
Guilt seared her heart. It burned into her soul like a conflagration she couldn’t quench. She ached. She ached inside for the man she had never imagined being without, and she ached on the outside for the touch she had been denied for so long.
She slid to the floor of the tub, pulling her knees to her chest, and lowered her head, the sobs tearing through her as she rocked herself.
My witch. Go síoraí. Love me, Sabella. Love me forever.
His voice drifted through her memories and the cries came harder. She loved. She loved until she couldn’t understand how she drew a breath, second by second, without his presence in her life. Without his touch, his kiss.
Six years. She sobbed at the thought, her head falling back to the shower wall as the water pounded around her. Hot as her tears. But neither eased the blistering guilt burning inside her. Her husband had been dead for six years, and still the vows they had shared held her, tormented her.
The tears left her hurting more, because the tears didn’t help. She could cry an ocean of them and Nathan wouldn’t suddenly be there, pulling her into his arms and easing the grief that sometimes seemed to eat her alive.
And now, the guilt.
She picked up the washcloth and soap and she washed again. She scrubbed until she felt raw, and still, another man’s touch was on her flesh, and still, she was swollen, aching for release.
“You left me, Nathan,” she finally sobbed into the steam gathering around her. “You promised, Nathan. You promised you would never leave me.”
He had sworn he would always hold her, always surround her. He wasn’t holding her. For over six years he hadn’t held her and still the pain could rip inside her, as though it had been yesterday. As though he had betrayed her and just not returned to her. As though he still breathed, and didn’t touch her.
And the tears poured, like rain, like sorrow. Like the need for the touch, the kiss, and the release from another man.
When no more tears could be shed, when the water grew cold and she knew she had to move, Sabella dragged herself from the floor of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her and stepped onto the thick fluffy rug that covered the floor.
She moved to the mirror and looked into it. She saw then why Rick had stared so hard at her face. The reddened rasp on her skin from Noah’s beard. There was the faintest hint of blue where he had bit her. The thought of that bite sent a surge of sensation pouring into her womb, into her sex. She licked her swollen lips and stared at her neck and her knees weakened. She carried his marks down her neck to her breasts. Faintly red, little brands from his touch, his kiss, his nips.
She hadn’t wanted gentle, she had wanted hard. She had wanted to loosen the dark, furious need she hadn’t even known had been building inside her. She had wanted it free, and he had freed it.
It was more than obvious she was canceling her date with Duncan tonight. There was no way she could face him like this. No way she could let him see this. And it was even more obvious that she wouldn’t be seeing him again.
Shaking her head, she dried her hair, dropped the towels to the floor, and tugged on her robe before going back downstairs and making the call to Duncan.
He wasn’t pleased. It was short notice, and he was irritated with that. Duncan liked to stay on schedule, and she had just messed up his little schedule. When she hung up the phone she sighed wearily at the thought of the frustration in his voice. She would have to break things off soon. Companionship was no reason to keep him hanging on. And companionship wasn’t enough anymore. She had tasted hunger again, and she wanted more.
She craved more.
Sabella wandered around the dimly lit house, finally finding herself in the living room, in front of the large window, where the long table held her and Nathan’s wedding photos.
How handsome he had been. She picked up the picture of them together. Her in the long white gown he had bought for her. Her head was against his chest, his dress uniform stiffly starched beneath her cheek. His hands gripped her bare shoulders and he stared down at her as though he had found something in her that he had never found anywhere else.
She had been his Bella. His Southern Bella he used to call her because of that Southern drawl she had never even tried to get rid of.
His eyes had been brilliant. So blue. So filled with life. She touched those eyes through the glass, slid her thumb down his face, then lifted her gaze to the window.
The throttled purr of the Harley could be heard from the garage that sat within sight of the house. She watched as the single light pierced the darkness and the motorcycle headed to the main road.
Noah was just a shadow, as was the cycle as it gained in power and disappeared from view. She watched the taillights until she couldn’t see them any longer then looked down at Nathan’s smiling face once again.
A tear splashed on the glass covering his face.
