The Ex 4: In Which She Feels So Close

It might've been the birds chirping out on my windowsill that awoke me – or the sound of floorboards creaking outside my bedroom door.

Either way, I was wide awake and when I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and saw that it was a little after eleven in the morning, I flew into a mad panic. Kicking the duvet off and getting to my feet, I threw my nightgown on, acutely aware that I needed to grab the nearest thing I could use to defend myself from an intruder. The nearest thing just happened to be my battered polkdot umbrella. Wielding it like a sword, I pulled open my door and tiptoed onto the landing, wincing as the floorboards groaned beneath me.

The manor wasn't the vastest but it had four en-suite bedrooms, a toilet and a storeroom on that particular floor. I paused in the corridor and listened.

Wind whistled past me, p.r.i.c.kling my skin and sending s.h.i.+vers down my spine. c.o.c.king my head, I tried to listen again – silence.

And then, as if in an alternate universe, I heard the loud growl of the lawnmower outside. Shaking my head, I marched downstairs and threw open my front door. What kind of nut trespa.s.sed so that he could cut my gra.s.s?

“Morning, suns.h.i.+ne,” Konstantin's baritone came from behind me, sending a new slew of gooseb.u.mps over my skin.

I spun around, dropping my umbrella to my feet. “Who the h.e.l.l is he?” I jerked my thumb at the tall, s.h.i.+rtless teen who, after a number of false starts, finally began to push the mower across the high blades of gra.s.s.

“Peter. Don't worry about paying him. I've got it covered,” Kon replied, as if that were the most natural thing on the planet. “That jungle must be home to all kinds of creatures, Frankie. You're so tiny, you could trip and fall and never be seen again. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

My jaw clenched. “How dare you? And how the h.e.l.l did you even get in?” A quick inspection of the door showed no clear sign of forced entry.

Konstantin dangled a bunch of keys above my head. “You still haven't changed the locks.”

“I could call the police. This is trespa.s.sing.”

He quirked a brow. “And say what?” He cleared his throat: “Oh, Mr. Officer, there's a horrible man in my house who hired a boy to cut my neglected lawn. Come quickly!”

I pushed past him and shuffled into the kitchen, intent on getting as far away from the object of my desire and irritation. I stopped short in the doorway and squeezed my eyes shut. After counting to ten, I opened them again. No, I wasn't hallucinating: Breakfast was indeed on the table. As if on cue, my stomach growled, loud enough for Kon to hear.

“I figured you'd be hungry. It's almost eleven.”

I turned to shoot a glare at the man. “What do you expect, a medal?”

He laughed, a low sound that filled the suddenly cramped kitchen and went straight to my belly. “Nothing. I don't expect anything from you, Frankie.”

I gingerly sat on one end of the table. It was a gorgeous oak table, an antique I'd found one weekend right after our honeymoon. Worn with age and memories, it was one of my favourite pieces of furniture in the entire house. Now, ornamented with plates of bread rolls and what I knew was a feta omelette, it had never looked so beautiful. I rarely sat down and ate, especially in the kitchen. There were too many memories in that kitchen.

Of us cooking together, of us throwing food at each other, of us making love on the floor…
“May I take a seat?”

I looked up, only noticing now that Konstantin was loitering by my refrigerator. “Do whatever you please.”

I tried not to pay too much attention to his presence when he sat adjacent to me but with each pa.s.sing second, it was becoming increasingly difficult. It didn't help that for the first time in years, he wasn't in formal. Parishville was rarely sunny but on the few occasions that it did get hot, it became muggy and no one in their right mind would wear winter wear. In a navy-blue vest and tan beach shorts, Konstantin was definitely taking advantage of the heat and, in my opinion, showing a little too much skin. It was positively distracting. I didn't want it to be, but it was. When he reached across for the pot of coffee, I was able to see the faint brown hairs on his arm standing up, to see the slightly jagged scar on his wrist from a fistfight he'd gotten into as a teen.

Why don't you take a picture, Frankie?

“Okay, what are you doing here? Honest answer,” I asked when I was done ravaging what was on the table while he watched in amused silence. I sure as h.e.l.l didn't care if I was eating as if it were my last meal. I was the first to admit that this Greek demon certainly knew his way around a kitchen.

“Your gra.s.s was too long. I thought I'd help out,” was his imbecilic response.

“Do you think I'm stupid, Kouriakis?”

He reached out and ran his thumb across my lips. It came back red with jam. “No, but you are a very messy eater.” He put his finger into his mouth, sucking away what had been on my lips.

I was breathing heavily, my nipples beading against the front of my terrycloth robe. Beneath the table, my thighs clenched.

“Frankie,” Konstantin said softly. He knew. He just knew I was hot for him just then.

I shook my head, trying to cool myself down. “Because of you, Colin hasn't been returning my calls. I am so stupid and weak and…just plain h.o.r.n.y. Why did I ever let you –”

“I take it you informed the unfortunate man of your lying ways?”

I couldn't deal with the delight in his voice, the taunting in his tone. “I didn't lie. I told him. He just…needs a moment to cool off.”

Konstantin leaned forward. “And what makes you think he'll take you back after you've let him cool off, as you put it?”

I looked away. “He adores me. And he doesn't deserve to be treated the way I've been treating him.”

All I want is for him to do it again…and again, and again, and again…

I shook the memory away. What a b.i.t.c.hy thing for me to have said to him.

“But what do you deserve, Frankie? What do you think you deserve?”

“Why do you care? We're divorced, remember?”

He leaned back, his face becoming an emotionless mask. “How can I forget?”

He made me question everything just by being there. Made me wonder if I'd made a mistake, if leaving him had been a mistake. “We're not doing this, okay? We're not.” I got to my feet. “I'm going to take a bath and when I'm done, I don't want to find you here. Thank you for getting my lawn cut and thanks for breakfast.”

Konstantin stood up, towering over me. “It's the least I could do.”
I bit my bottom lip, hugging myself. His eyes were locked with mine. He seemed to read what was in them…so he moved. And I didn't stop him.

***

Weak, I told myself in the dim glow of my bedside lamp. You are the most spineless, gutless human being on G.o.d's green earth.

Konstantin s.h.i.+fted at my side, throwing a possessive arm around me. Instinctively, I leaned into him, unexpectedly delighting in the warmth of his body behind mine.

Spooning with the devil himself.

“Kon?” I whispered, fingering his forearm.

“What?” His voice was m.u.f.fled in my skin.

“You can't spend the night. You know that, right?”

He pecked my shoulder. “So I suppose I'm just your…fúck-buddy?”

I turned to look at him, s.h.i.+fting away from him. “Don't go there. That makes this…sordid.”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn't mean to insult you, Frankie. Lighten up.”

“How can I?” I exclaimed, staring at the high ceiling. “How can I when I'm doing to Colin the exact same thing you did to me two years ago?”

Konstantin's brow furrowed. He sat up, leaning against the embellished wooden headboard. “I think this is my cue to leave. I have work to do, in any case.”

I glanced at his back; so defined, so broad. Pink, raised bruises were appearing where I'd dragged my nails down his back. After hours in bed, I should've been glad to see the back of him but no. Not when I wasn't sure I'd ever be pathetic to fall into his seductive spider's web again.

“I'm sorry. I won't talk about it again,” I said softly. You're sorry, Frankie? You're sorry that he hurt you?

“Don't apologise. I should…” His voice trailed off when he felt my lips on his bare shoulder. “I'm trying to respect your wishes. You're not helping matters, agapi mou.”

“When did you become such a gentleman?” I murmured, parting my lips for my tongue to taste his saltiness.

A low groan escaped his lips. He turned around and pushed me back, leaning over me. Without a word, he pressed his lips against mine before pulling back, leaving me gasping for air. His eyes – those grey, liquid pools of l.u.s.t and need – bored into mine, drinking my naked body in. I traced the planes of his chest with my fingertips, drawing him into me.

How many women has he been with since you left him? Ten? Thirty? Fifty? Hundreds?

I wanted to forget, to pretend what had happened hadn't…but it was hard to overlook it when he was with me like this. And then Konstantin's hot mouth closed around a suddenly aching nipple, twirling his tongue around it, and his infidelity became the last thing on my mind. My hands pulled at his hair, the softness of the curls a contrast to the hardness of the man, and my back arched, pus.h.i.+ng my breast even deeper into his mouth.

“More,” I pleaded, not recognising the guttural voice as my own.

Mouth moving to my other heavy breast, he slid a hand between my parted thighs. Gently and languidly, his fingers expertly teased the swollen nub of my clít between two fingers before sliding inside my wet pússy. My hands fisted the sheets, sweat sheening my brow. I should've known that he would make me beg for more, should've known how good he was.

“Oh, sweet sprites, stop!” I wailed, wanting the torture to end, wanting him to stop inflicting the pain of craving on me. A small wave of embarra.s.sment rolled over me at the ridiculous words leaving my mouth but I couldn't stop, couldn't fight against what Konstantin was doing to me, making me feel.
“Stop?” he growled, his fingers finding a spot in me that made me see stars. “Frankie, I am never going to stop.”

His fingers left my cúnt and he kneed my legs apart, positioning himself between them. “You're the only thing I want to do right now. Screw all my paperwork.”

“Don't say things like that,” I rasped, squeezing my eyes shut. They flew open when he plunged into me, hard and fast, ever forceful.

I thrust my hips to meet his, relis.h.i.+ng in how every time felt new and different and beautiful. Konstantin loved to watch what he did to me, loved to see what each technique did to my face. It used to be unsettling but now, under his l.u.s.tful gaze, I felt like a gorgeous Monet hanging on a wall. With each plunge of his c.0.c.k inside me, I could feel my orga$m within reach and I nearly cried it felt so good. Konstantin's weight was welcome and, when I could feel and hear his breath begin to labour, I wrapped my legs around his waist and clamped my inner muscles around his c.0.c.k. Murmuring my name in my ear, he fell apart, heating my inside with his release.

Silence stretched after I joined him and then…“I feel so close to you right now – it's a force field. I wear my heart upon my sleeve – like a big deal…”

The faint music wafted in through my open bedroom window and Konstantin's brow furrowed. “Is someone having a party in our garden?” He pulled out of me and rolled over to his side, sitting up ramrod straight.

I sat up, too, still giddy from my multiple o.r.g.a.s.ms. The clatter of my knocker being ruthlessly banged against the front door made me freeze.

“Don't move,” I hissed, grabbing my mobile. I'd expected it to be extremely late but it was only a little after eight. Visitors weren't exactly taboo at such an hour but right now? When I could still smell s.e.x with my ex-husband in the air? When I could still feel his c.u.m between my thighs? Karma, that was what it was.

“Don't move?” Konstantin repeated in irritated disbelief. “I'm not some randy teenager hiding from your parents, Frankie.”

“You're being ridiculous. And petty.” I got out of bed and shrugged on my gown.

Our garden? I thought, only just noticing his word choice. A s.h.i.+ver ran down my spine. Once upon a time, it was ours…

Without a backward glance, I left my room and went downstairs, taking a fortifying breath before pulling open the front door.

The sound of Calvin Harris was even louder now. As was the sound of the blood rus.h.i.+ng to my head.

“Evening, Francesca.”

Dear G.o.d, please tell me this is a joke.

Colin stood at my front door, a small cl.u.s.ter of people behind him on my lawn. The musical culprit turned out to be comic-addict Rodney, who had his iPod plugged into a docking system.

“Colin,” I began, hugging myself, “what…what's going on?”

I spotted Alain in the background, a concerned look on his face…as if he knew exactly what Colin Hanlon was planning to do. And didn't like it.

“This is your favourite song, right?” Colin asked, ignoring my very reasonable question. He looked surprisingly good. I was glad nothing awful had befallen him, like I'd thought.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

His face split into a pleased smile. “Good.” I felt my heart clench when he got onto one knee, looking up at me expectantly. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Rod, be a good lad and turn that down now. It's served its purpose.” He returned his attention to me. “I know it's getting late but I was driving past the lake and I thought, 'I can't live without Francesca and I need to be man enough to make her see that she can't live without me, either.' So here I am.”

This is awful, I thought in horror. This is absolutely awful!

“Francesca Vega, I know I might not be the best you can do,” Colin started, reaching into his back pocket for what I knew would be a golden circle of dreadfulness, “but I do love you and…” His voice trailed off just as someone else's cologne blanketed over me.

“Evening, everyone,” Konstantin said gruffly, pus.h.i.+ng past me. He stopped short at the sight of Colin at my feet.

“Francesca?” Colin's voice was uncertain as he looked from me to Konstantin.

“I was just leaving, mate,” Kon said genially.

Colin awkwardly stood up, his face red – with fury? With humiliation?

“So was I,” he said through clenched teeth, flinging a dirty look my way. “So was I.”

He turned on his heel and left Kon and I standing at the door, left to look at the small crowd of gobsmacked onlookers.

“Get off her property,” Konstantin snarled at them, moving in front of me. “What are you waiting for, a court order?”

“Stop it, Kon. I know these people,” I whispered, tears p.r.i.c.kling my eyes when I saw the judgmental looks on their faces before they turned to go. Vicky, Nancy's sister, was there.

I was ruined.