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Kent jerked his chin toward the large water jug placed on a crocheted doily in the middle of the table. Drops of condensation had started to form on the crystal glass, refracting rainbows into the room.
“You’re not going to let me go thirsty,” Malik started, “Are you, Gitta?”
Her body shuddered as he said her name, his thick accent pronouncing it all wrong. Birgitta steadied her breath as she reached out for the water. As she poured it into Malik’s glass, she saw Kent shifting in his seat once more. His face was red with anger and his jaw was clenched tightly, little lumps of muscles jutting out on either end of his jaw.
“It’s fine,” Birgitta repeated. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I will worry about it,” Kent snapped. “This isn’t how we do things in Sweden. No woman should be treated like this.”
Birgitta let the flash of anger take over for a second. She dropped the water on the table with a loud thud, sending vibrations through the wood.
“Drop it,” she snapped. “You’re ruining a perfectly nice meal.”
“I’m not the one ruining it,” Kent replied, his voice short and snappy, while his eyes bored into Malik’s face.
Kent didn’t say another word that evening, though. Birgitta knew he was too angry to say anything other than complaints, so he kept silent. The dinner dragged on. All Birgitta could hear was the sound of their cutlery scraping against the plates or the sounds of chewing. She wished that she’d had the sense to put on the radio, something to drown out the deafeningly loud silence.
It didn’t end. The silence just kept on going. Unrelenting, beating down on Birgitta until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She didn’t bother to finish her food. She just scooped up her plate and dropped it in the sink, leaving it for Kent to sort out. There was no stopping her legs from carrying her into the living room, away from them.
Her mind raced, turning over and over until the only thing she could think about was escaping. Sweat formed on the cusp of her hairline, dampening her hair until it was slick against her head. Any time a sound came from the kitchen, Birgitta’s heart stopped. The fear was running through her, joined with plenty of guilt.
Birgitta found herself pacing up and down the living room, her fingers picking at her lips as her mind turned over and over. Why did he have to come here, why did she think this was a good idea? Bringing Malik here was a huge mistake. Letting him into her home was only going to complicate things more. She was already so confused. The desire she felt for him was constantly building, rising up inside her like the tide, and yet she knew she couldn’t tear her family apart just because she was unhappy… Could she?
How many times am I going to ask myself this question?Birgitta thought.Am I going to be stuck considering this until it’s too late until Malik won’t wait for me anymore?
Just then, as if he knew Birgitta was pining for him, Malik came into the living room. His deep brown eyes were filled with fire, burning brighter as they landed on her face. He walked over to her with purpose in his stride. Within a second they were within each other’s arms and Birgitta’s head was resting against his chest.
He held her there for a while, his hands rubbing up and down her back. Could he sense her discomfort? Her lust? When he leaned back from her and hooked his finger beneath her chin, Birgitta felt her insides melt. He stared into her eyes, his eyebrows pulled into a slight frown.
Before she could stop him, he planted a kiss on her lips. They were softer than she’d ever imagined, opening and closing in unison with hers. A sigh eased out of her nose as she allowed herself to enjoy the kiss, letting his tongue explore her mouth.
Her pussy began to ache as her hands desperately wanted to rip the clothes from his shoulders. She wanted so badly to undress him right there and let him have her. The scent of his skin, his hair, his sweat . . . it all mingled together in her nose, turning her whole body into a trembling mess.
Screw Kent,she thought.Screw Julia. Screw everyone if they don’t understand that this is what I need.
Birgitta had never cared about what other people thought, she had always stood out from the crowd, even when she was younger. Of course, everyone told her it was a phase, that soon she would leave her selfish ways behind her and become one with the group. But it had never happened.
Malik suddenly broke off the kiss and stepped away from Birgitta, leaving her swaying on her feet. She almost fell as his body left hers, suddenly having to stand on her own. Her mind was dazed and confused, unable to think of anything else but Malik’s sweet lips.
Then Birgitta heard what Malik had heard—the sound of Kent’s footsteps, coming toward them. As he came through the archway into the room, he looked at Birgitta as apologetically as he could. His eyebrows were deeply curved upward, causing his pale forehead to break out into three large wrinkles.
“Would you like some dessert?” Kent asked them both, his eyes darting between them.
For a moment, Birgitta was terrified that he could see what had gone on between them. Could he see the guilt in her eyes or the proud stance that Malik was taking? Could he read it on the air:I just kissed your wife.
“I’ll be nice,” Kent promised when he didn’t get a reply from either of them.
Birgitta’s hand found its way to the back of her neck, massaging her tense muscles uncomfortably. She looked down to the ground, too ashamed to even speak to her husband. The feelings she had were so foreign to her, so alien. She had never felt this much needless guilt in her life. She was doing what she needed to do and yet it felt like the lies were piling up inside of her, eating her from the inside out.
“I think I should go,” Malik said in his thickly accented Swedish.
“Mmm,” Birgitta quickly agreed, letting her hand drop from her neck. “I’ll see you out.”
Both of them walked toward the front door, past Kent. As Birgitta glanced at his face, she saw disappointment and shame written all over his skin. A pang of guilt struck her heart, wounding her deeply. When Malik was gone, she would talk to him. She had to make his pain right, at least.
Malik slipped on his boots and coat at the door silently. He never took his eyes from Birgitta’s face. There was so much emotion in his features. She knew that he badly wanted her, almost as much as she wanted him. Birgitta respected his self-control.
“I’ll be seeing you again,” he said.
