CH 143
Marilyn
She did not want to sleep in this bed, had never been allowed to stay overnight here, and once her ankle was
strapped up, she swung her legs from the bed only to have Calvin stay her with a hand. “Where are you going?” he’d asked.
“To sleep in the room with the boys,” she’d stated.
“Why, I will sleep on the couch, there is no need for you to get up out of this bed. You can’t walk on that ankle yet, so just stay here,” he told her.
“No, I was never allowed to sleep here, so I won’t now,” she told him, and found him right in front of her, a hand on either side of her, once again caged in by him.
“I have never invited a woman into this apartment, nor had one in this bed. It wasn’t just you, Marilyn.”
“Right.” she rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe that for a bloody miniscule of a second, “I wasn’t you first, I’m damned certain plenty of women came before me.”
“No, you weren’t,” he looked right at her, “Like I wasn’t yours, something else I really liked about you. That you knew what you wanted in the bedroom, and how to get it. You were never shy in our bed, not even that first time.” He smiled right at her, “but I never brought any of those women here, no one. It was always their place or a hotel. This is my sanctuary and other than my mother, Veronica, Cheryl and Paulina the cleaner, no woman bar yourself has ever been allowed in my apartment. Now, I’m telling you, you’re allowed to sleep here, my sanctuary is now yours as well.”
“Why? We’re not married anymore. You divorced me, remember.” She shot at him. She didn’t need the memory of their first time brought to mind, how she’d thought her husband was hot, and wondered what that body of his looked like under that suit he always wore, or what he was like in the bedroom department.
“Hmm, I did.” He couldn’t deny it, “So I could have you all to myself, for real, no holds bar. Now just stay here in my bed. It’s not like it has memories for you to recall and have to deal with. It’s Calvin and Marrin memory free.” He smiled at her. “Unless you want to make a nice memory in it, that is Calvin and Marilyn.”
“No,” she muttered, and she did not.
“Pity.” He murmured and stood up. “I’d only be too happy to do all those things I know you like, to you… I’ll grab something to sleep in and take my leave; you will stay here and rest that ankle.” He’d told her “I’ll not take no for an answer. You leave this bedroom, and I’ll pick you up and bring you back to it, put you in this bed and sleep next to you, lock an arm around you and make you stay in this bed, with me all night long.” He stated as walked across the room to the walk–in.
She could hear the clear amusement in his voice, but she also didn’t think he was joking at the same time. He’d likely do it just to make a bloody point that he could do it. That man, that had just been before her, was Calvin, the man she’d been married to.
He’d made his point once before in a similar manner, though at a gala event, where he’d told her not to talk to a certain man, because he didn’t like the way that man looked at her. He’d told her if she did, he’d pull her in to him and not let one inch of space be between them for the entire night. She’d shaken her head and laughed it off, not believing him.
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Then she’d found herself practically glued to his side 20 minutes later, after coming from the restroom, and that man Calvin hadn’t liked had stopped her to talk to him, and tried to pull her onto the dance floor
It had taken Calvin less than a minute to remove that man’s hand from her arm and pull her firmly into his side, and for the next two and a half hours she’d found his arm around her. A hand firmly on her hip to hold her to his side, and there was no space at all between them for the rest of the night at that event.
She thought about that very thing now, that had been just a few months before the divorce, even in the car ride home to Cliffside. She’d been pulled right next to him in that backseat as they’d been driven home by a driver, not an inch allowed even in the car. A frown touched her face as she followed that memory, He’d spent
the night as well.
He’d been all hands on the moment they’d stepped into Cliffside’s foyer, had told her she was his and no one else was allowed to touch her. Had stripped that dress off her in the foyer and kissed his way down her body all heatedly until her panties had been pulled off, and he’d practically devoured her until she was cumming for him right there.
He had stood up afterwards with her all caged in between his arms, just looking at her as she caught her breath. He had smiled at her. “Our bed is calling,” he’d stated, and she’d just nodded at him, and he’d taken her hand and led her right to their bed.
He’d pushed her down onto their bed and buried his face in her neck as his hand had slipped between her thighs, to touch her and tease her, push his fingers inside of her and stroke her until she was cumming again for him, and then he’d stood up and stripped his clothes off before climbing back into the bed and finally giving her what she’d begged him for just moments earlier but had denied her.
That night had been all about him pleasing her. She’d not been allowed to do anything to him at all, even when she’d told him she wanted to, he denied her that, told her his need that night was to pleasure her, not have her pleasure him. Even when he’d been done, and she’d been exhausted by him, he’d pulled her body to his and murmured “There will be no space between us.” Reminding her of his words at the gala, she’d woken up to him still in that bed even, curled around her.
She wondered now if that was him being jealous of another man touching her. Was it when he’d realised, he was in love with her?
She watched him come out of the walk–in shirtless and wearing a pair of tracksuit pants, had stripped off in there it seemed. He placed one of his tee–shirts on the bed next to her “for you to sleep in.” He smiled and then strolled out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
She huffed and just flopped back down on the bed. He just had to go and walk around half bloody naked before her. He’d likely done it on purpose to show off his body. It had always been nice, and she’d told him on many occasions it was more than nice, that she enjoyed touching him; nothing had changed on that front, his body was still bloody nice, he had she thought put on a bit more muscle, not much but noticeable to her because she knew what they were like, had just bloody recalled him naked in their marital bed, he had firm pecks and nice abs, even his back had nice lines, she had to admit.
would smell
chair by the
Her eyes moved to the shirt he’d put out for her to wear, and she sighed, knew why he’d done like him. Make her think about him all bloody night as well. She picked it up and tossed it onto window and got in bed with her dress on still she wasn’t going to put his clothes on, and she turned the light
out.
Wearing that shirt would just make the man happy to know she had, likely also see it as she wanted to. She
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lay there in his bed and sighed. Despite everything that had happened between him and her, all of which she knew he’d not done on purpose bar the yelling at her and caging her up against her car, it was all an accident on his part. She’d seen the footage of that first attack. She’d ducked as he’d snapped his hand out, which had gotten him a fist full of her hair. He’d not been trying to grab her like that, and she knew it, the stairs? She stumbled and fallen he’d not pushed her.
“Fuck.” She muttered and rolled over and curled into a pillow as she realised, she was still attracted to the man. She scrubbed a hand over her face, had never really had the time to let him go, and resolve her feelings for him. They’d just been lost with her amnesia. She didn’t want to think about that, not in conjunction with all the knowledge she held, of seeing him in that airport with flowers and that ring box. Grieving her and then desperately searching for her.
All that pain she’d felt in the six weeks leading up to the day they’d gone their separate ways. He’d suffered for weeks as well. Only he’d thought she was dead. That had to be worse pain, she thought, considering he thought it was all his fault and would have been filled with guilt as well as pain.
Was she now a mean bully, trying to get payback on him for what he’d not really intended to do to her on purpose? When he’d likely suffered just as much pain as she had, all the pain, grief and guilt, because he’d loved her and thought he’d put her on a plane to her death. Was she the mean cruel bully in all of this now? She didn’t want to be, knew her own pain and heartbreak had been real, but she’d forgotten all about it until tonight, when it had been unleashed upon her in that stairwell, whereas he’d had to live with it for eight long
years.
She was the cruel one she realised, fighting him at every turn tonight, and all he’d done after that encounter in the stairwell, that had returned all her memories in full; was try and help her.
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