The Opportunist
Page 38
“Olivia,” he says into my ear. I shudder at the tone of his voice. When his voice drops low like that, I know he means business. We are both breathing hard.
“Do you love me?”
I freeze. A chill runs up my spine.
He grabs my chin, and pivots it up.
I know if I don’t answer him, he will walk away. I want so much to be honest with him; to tell him how long I’ve loved him, and why I love him-but all I can manage is a weak, “Yes,” in a whisper.
“Say it,” Caleb says.
I grit my teeth.
He shakes me. “Say it.”
How does he know it’s there to say?
“I love you,” I shout at him. He looks like I’ve just slapped him. Now I’m f**king mad.
I reach for his waist and pop the button on his jeans. He wasn’t expecting that.
He is frozen. His body tense. I kiss him and try to melt away his resistance. It works and he comes at me like a flood. He breaks away from my lips to peel off his shirt and then he comes back so quickly I barely have time to breathe.
Tentatively, I reach my hands up to touch him. His muscles tense under my fingertips. He’s so beautiful; broad shoulders, narrow waist. I pull my hands away, unsure of myself. Caleb grabs my wrist bringing my hands back to his skin. He is expert and I am novice; it is very clear to both of us. He paces me, controlling the moment. Slipping my shirt over my head, he kisses my shoulders, unclasps my bra. I step out of my pants.
He pulls back.
Then, he looks at me. I am mortified, it is a savage and masculine moment and I let him have it because I never did before. I feel like I am on display for the world. I have never let anyone see me naked.
When he has taken his fill, he pulls me towards him.
“God, Olivia,” he says into my neck. I am burning red. I don’t know what his words mean. I pull back to look at his face. His eyes have shifted. They are not calm and laughing anymore. I can see urgency and lust. I am so afraid of this moment.
He scoops me off my feet in one graceful movement and I feel the cool grass prickle beneath my back. I can smell orange blossoms on the air. I curl around him, waiting.
He takes his time easing into me. Our eyes are locked; mine grow wider with every inch. I didn’t know it would feel like this. I want to moan. I want to dig my nails in his back and wrap my legs around him, but I am too proud to do any of these things. He watches my face in fascination. He’s looking for a reaction, but my reaction is all on the inside where he can’t see it…where I am hiding it.
He moves out, then in. He sucks on my lower lip. He laughs into my mouth. I pull my head back to look at him.
“You’re that kind of girl.”
I don’t know what he means. I’m not sure if I care—it feels so good.
He grabs my wrists, pins them above my head.
“Relax your legs.”
For the first time in my life I do what I’m told. All of a sudden it feels even better. I press my lips together and roll my head to the side to hide my face from him. He runs his teeth along my earlobe and goose bumps skitter across my body. “Look at me.” His voice is raspy. I look at him. He moves harder. My breath hitches. Harder… and I’m breathing like I’ve just run a marathon.
“You feel so good.”
That does me in. Something like a moan gets lost on his collarbone as I press my face against his chest. When I look up he has a Eureka look on his face. “That’s how I make you moan?”
After that he says really dirty things in my ear. He’s found my weakness. I make noises I will regret until the day I die.
I feel myself climbing, but I don’t want it to be the end. He is in complete and utter control of my mind and body. I don’t like the feeling of not being in control. When he bends his head to my shoulder, I take the opportunity to flip myself on top of him. He lets me steer our movements for a few minutes before taking control of my hips. Two can play at this game. I lean down to say something into his ear.
“Harder Caleb… and don’t pull out…” His eyes close and his fingers dig into my thighs. I feel a slight victory until he flips me onto my back.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” My orgasm punctuates his sentence.
I do not make a sound.
We don’t speak on the drive home. Caleb helps me clean the mess in my apartment. We fill ten giant trash bags with the leftovers of what used to be my life, scooping broken plates, and glasses into one and the shreds of my clothes into another.
We work in silence with the radio playing softly in the background. I keep pausing in the middle of what I am doing to think about what happened in the orange grove.
I taste salty tears on my lips when I lift my Thomas Barbey print from its cracked frame. It is just a print but still it is mine and I loved it. Before I can crumple it up, Caleb rescues it from my hands, and s it to the side.
“We can fix that one,” he says running a finger along my jaw.
When I find my grandmother’s antique porcelain figurine lying in shards on the floor, I lock myself in the bathroom to cry. Caleb sensing the importance of the hand painted shepardess leaves me be, and discreetly disposes of everything aside from her face, which miraculously stayed intact. I find it later, wrapped in tissue paper and tucked in a box of barely salvaged items he thinks I would want to keep. When everything that used to be mine sits in ten garbage bags by the front door, Caleb hugs me and leaves. I lean against the window overlooking the parking lot and watch him walk to his car. I feel a loneliness so violent my lungs feel like they are closing. I place both of my palms on my temples and squeeze. I can’t do this. I can’t lie anymore. He is too good. He doesn’t deserve the wickedness I deliver and he deserves to hear the truth from me, not Leah. I run for the door and rip it open. “Caleb wait!”
He is almost to his car when he stops and turns around.
I run to him, not caring that all I am wearing is an old football jersey and fling myself around him.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a horrible person,” I say pressing my face against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” he grabs my chin lifting my face to look at him. “You’re a good person.”
“No, no I’m not,” I shake my head violently from side to side. “I’m desperately wicked.” He smiles at me rubbing my back like I am a child. Then he bends down and I felt his lips on my neck. He kisses me lightly, intimately.
“Do you love me?”
I freeze. A chill runs up my spine.
He grabs my chin, and pivots it up.
I know if I don’t answer him, he will walk away. I want so much to be honest with him; to tell him how long I’ve loved him, and why I love him-but all I can manage is a weak, “Yes,” in a whisper.
“Say it,” Caleb says.
I grit my teeth.
He shakes me. “Say it.”
How does he know it’s there to say?
“I love you,” I shout at him. He looks like I’ve just slapped him. Now I’m f**king mad.
I reach for his waist and pop the button on his jeans. He wasn’t expecting that.
He is frozen. His body tense. I kiss him and try to melt away his resistance. It works and he comes at me like a flood. He breaks away from my lips to peel off his shirt and then he comes back so quickly I barely have time to breathe.
Tentatively, I reach my hands up to touch him. His muscles tense under my fingertips. He’s so beautiful; broad shoulders, narrow waist. I pull my hands away, unsure of myself. Caleb grabs my wrist bringing my hands back to his skin. He is expert and I am novice; it is very clear to both of us. He paces me, controlling the moment. Slipping my shirt over my head, he kisses my shoulders, unclasps my bra. I step out of my pants.
He pulls back.
Then, he looks at me. I am mortified, it is a savage and masculine moment and I let him have it because I never did before. I feel like I am on display for the world. I have never let anyone see me naked.
When he has taken his fill, he pulls me towards him.
“God, Olivia,” he says into my neck. I am burning red. I don’t know what his words mean. I pull back to look at his face. His eyes have shifted. They are not calm and laughing anymore. I can see urgency and lust. I am so afraid of this moment.
He scoops me off my feet in one graceful movement and I feel the cool grass prickle beneath my back. I can smell orange blossoms on the air. I curl around him, waiting.
He takes his time easing into me. Our eyes are locked; mine grow wider with every inch. I didn’t know it would feel like this. I want to moan. I want to dig my nails in his back and wrap my legs around him, but I am too proud to do any of these things. He watches my face in fascination. He’s looking for a reaction, but my reaction is all on the inside where he can’t see it…where I am hiding it.
He moves out, then in. He sucks on my lower lip. He laughs into my mouth. I pull my head back to look at him.
“You’re that kind of girl.”
I don’t know what he means. I’m not sure if I care—it feels so good.
He grabs my wrists, pins them above my head.
“Relax your legs.”
For the first time in my life I do what I’m told. All of a sudden it feels even better. I press my lips together and roll my head to the side to hide my face from him. He runs his teeth along my earlobe and goose bumps skitter across my body. “Look at me.” His voice is raspy. I look at him. He moves harder. My breath hitches. Harder… and I’m breathing like I’ve just run a marathon.
“You feel so good.”
That does me in. Something like a moan gets lost on his collarbone as I press my face against his chest. When I look up he has a Eureka look on his face. “That’s how I make you moan?”
After that he says really dirty things in my ear. He’s found my weakness. I make noises I will regret until the day I die.
I feel myself climbing, but I don’t want it to be the end. He is in complete and utter control of my mind and body. I don’t like the feeling of not being in control. When he bends his head to my shoulder, I take the opportunity to flip myself on top of him. He lets me steer our movements for a few minutes before taking control of my hips. Two can play at this game. I lean down to say something into his ear.
“Harder Caleb… and don’t pull out…” His eyes close and his fingers dig into my thighs. I feel a slight victory until he flips me onto my back.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” My orgasm punctuates his sentence.
I do not make a sound.
We don’t speak on the drive home. Caleb helps me clean the mess in my apartment. We fill ten giant trash bags with the leftovers of what used to be my life, scooping broken plates, and glasses into one and the shreds of my clothes into another.
We work in silence with the radio playing softly in the background. I keep pausing in the middle of what I am doing to think about what happened in the orange grove.
I taste salty tears on my lips when I lift my Thomas Barbey print from its cracked frame. It is just a print but still it is mine and I loved it. Before I can crumple it up, Caleb rescues it from my hands, and s it to the side.
“We can fix that one,” he says running a finger along my jaw.
When I find my grandmother’s antique porcelain figurine lying in shards on the floor, I lock myself in the bathroom to cry. Caleb sensing the importance of the hand painted shepardess leaves me be, and discreetly disposes of everything aside from her face, which miraculously stayed intact. I find it later, wrapped in tissue paper and tucked in a box of barely salvaged items he thinks I would want to keep. When everything that used to be mine sits in ten garbage bags by the front door, Caleb hugs me and leaves. I lean against the window overlooking the parking lot and watch him walk to his car. I feel a loneliness so violent my lungs feel like they are closing. I place both of my palms on my temples and squeeze. I can’t do this. I can’t lie anymore. He is too good. He doesn’t deserve the wickedness I deliver and he deserves to hear the truth from me, not Leah. I run for the door and rip it open. “Caleb wait!”
He is almost to his car when he stops and turns around.
I run to him, not caring that all I am wearing is an old football jersey and fling myself around him.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a horrible person,” I say pressing my face against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” he grabs my chin lifting my face to look at him. “You’re a good person.”
“No, no I’m not,” I shake my head violently from side to side. “I’m desperately wicked.” He smiles at me rubbing my back like I am a child. Then he bends down and I felt his lips on my neck. He kisses me lightly, intimately.
