Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
The words were resounding in his head. "You're not pregnant."
The relief he expected.
The overwhelming feeling of rage and sadness he hadn't.
It was something he had been trying to analyze for the past two weeks. It had been compartmentalized and now had to be dissected.
This was what he wanted, what she had wanted, what was best. A baby would have killed Samantha.
And now they were safe. There was no evidence of his indiscretion with...her.
He tried not to think her name too often. When he let his guard slip and she did manage to slip through, the overwhelming feeling of upset hit again.
He didn't understand it. They hadn't spoken or seen each other since then. Not even an accidental run in. In a town like this, it was like accidental run in's were guaranteed at least once a week. But fate or luck was not on their side. He had no idea how she was doing.
And that was for the best.
Wasn't it?
He was not a man who liked self-doubt. And since his transgression with her had taken place, it was one of his more prominent feelings.
He knew that a baby with Ab... her was the last thing that he needed. He had Samantha. He had their family; Johnny, Sydney, Ally, even Will. He didn't need another baby, especially not one not born to the one he intended to marry.
So why was she still thinking about her. About their parting words. About her last words to him. So distant. So...final.
"Good-bye, EJ."
But no, it wasn't the words.
It was more than that.
It was the tone. The cold, distant detached tone, as if she had already checked out.
Her.
Check out on him.
In all of their time together, the one constant was her desire for him. The way she had craved him was like a drug, one that he hadn't realized that he had become addicted to until the past fortnight.
It was new to him.
Samantha loved him, desired him, but he never saw the burning need for him that he had experienced in Abig...her eyes.
Maybe a burning need for him to help her out of a jam, but not for him as a person. Not for him as a man.
He set the glass of brandy down and did it. He didn't feel the burn of her desire for him, so he would settle for just the feeling of the burn of her.
Abigail.
The same feelings crashed over him: Anger, disappointment, the feeling of a hope he hadn't realized that he had had being snatched away from him, from them. Deeper feelings he didn't feel like looking too deeply in to, and the ever present hunger. The lust. The draw to her, not only as someone who could have born his child, but as a woman. The way he wanted her was new to him.
He had obsessed over Samantha. But this obsession was different. It felt deeper, like a scar that wasn't healed. Something raw and more primal.
He wanted to possess her in a way that had nothing to do with games or manipulation. He wanted her. And now that he'd opened the gates. he could let the fluttering thought that he'd been pushing back to come forward.
He wanted that life with her. The one where he got to experience the beginning of his child's life, from conception to birth. He wanted to see the morning sickness, the cravings, the mood swings, her swelling with their baby and knowing without a doubt that it was half of both of them.
Part darkness, part blinding white angel.
And it was gone. How could he miss something that he had never even had.
He picked up the phone that was laying in front of him on the desk. It had been over two weeks since he had last seen her name and picture pop up on his screen. He went to his contacts and opened hers, staring at her smiling face.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
So why did it feel so wrong and out of sorts?
Picking up the brandy again, he drained the glass before staring at it.
The emptiness of the glass made him snap.
Rising out of his chair with speed, toppling it over, he gripped the glass hard before turning in a fury and heaving it at the nearest wall.
The shattering of the glass did nothing to alleviate the feelings coursing through his veins.
The feelings that all had a common catalyst.
And he had to see her.
Abigail.
This was so stupid.
She was so stupid.
She stared unseeingly at the papers her mother had given her that morning. It was just a bunch of pointless words that didn't mean anything to her. They weren't even registering.
It had been two weeks. That was enough time to have been over it.
But she wasn't. It was all she could do to get even a moment of peace in her over-active head.
The relief at not being pregnant had lasted only a short time. And then she had begun grieving. She had unwittingly grown attached to a life that had never even existed.
But it wasn't just the life of the baby she had grown attached to. It had been the direction that her life would have taken if she had been pregnant.
She would have been a mother to a beautiful baby.
With the genes of the baby's father, he or she had no option but to come out lovely.
She closed her eyes, a deep breath escaping her nose.
He had gotten to her. And it wasn't fair.
Because she had never gotten to him.
She could feel him still. Everywhere. In the blood that flowed in her veins, deep in her bones.
He had tried to talk to her after the appointment, but she didn't want to hear whatever pretty words he would have offered.
No baby, no evidence, was exactly what they had wanted. It was the best option for everyone involved, including the ones who didn't even know they were involved.
Sami.
Her mom.
Her entire family.
Will.
Johnny.
It was what was best.
It was.
She rested her head on her fist, her thumb pressing between her eyes.
She had to stop thinking about this.
It was over and done with. She wasn't pregnant and they were done. Completely done. They were moving on, the way it always was supposed to be.
Like it had never even happened.
A baby's cry broke through her thoughts causing her to jerk in surprise, her elbow hitting the ignored cup of coffee on the desk and spilling it all over the desk and her lap.
She stood up in surprise. She wasn't harmed, the coffee having already been cooled, but it was a mess.
"Great." she muttered, righting the cup and dabbing at the desk with the nearest paper towel.
Having cleaned the mess she looked down at her skirt, now stained and sticky, it seeping through to her skin through the thin material.
Shaking her head, she made her way out of the office, turning off the lights and making her way to the locker rooms.
It was empty in there for once, which was great. She didn't want to have to deal with or talk to anyone right now.
She was a mess, it was only right that her appearance reflect her life.
Grabbing the clothes from the locker, she looked at them before throwing them back in and shutting the door with a bang.
Turning quickly she walked slowly to the adjoining showers, turning on the one furthest from the entrance and letting the steam will the area.
She slipped off her ruined skirt, her underwear, blouse, and bra falling right behind it.
She needed to be clean.
Her hand gripped the curtain but before she could pull it to the side, a larger, masculine hand overlapped hers, engulfing her hand with his.
She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She could feel it in the pulse of the air flowing between them.
His hand released hers, fingertips trailing up her arms slowly, goose bumps rising in its wake. Upwards they went tracing over veins, past her shoulder, a palm cupping her neck, three fingers resting gently against her throat. A gentle tug brought her naked body against his fully clothed one and she couldn't control the involuntary shiver of arousal that shot up her spine.
It was the same feelings that crashed over her whenever she saw him, thought about him, dreamt about him, about them together.
His hand trailed from her neck, down down down. Between the valley of her breasts that were rising and falling rapidly with each of her shallow breaths. The pads of his fingers circled her navel slowly before a steady hand encircled her hip, turning her around to face him.
She didn't want to look up, staring at the crisp whiteness of his shirt instead.
She imagined she could see his heart thumping through the material as rapidly as hers was.
The same hands that had been on her body the same fingers that had traced her skin began slowly releasing the buttons of his shirt revealing the smooth skin underneath. She couldn't help it any longer. Her eyes traveled up, up, up and locked on his face.
It was different.
It was both hard and soft, pained and content, wary and so open.
This was different.
He was different.
They were different.
It was a lesson in contradictions, just like they always were.
She didn't know what it was that possessed her to do it especially given the circumstances they had just gotten finished facing, but with a shaking hand, a hesitant touch, she grasped the belt that was holding his dark pants around his hips and unhooked them.
It was all the encouragement he seemed to need. His hands gripped hers gently, placing them back down to her and finished undressing, his clothes piled atop hers.
It was different this time. His hands gripped her just as tightly as they had last time, but this time he pushed her back towards the shower, leading her to where he wanted her to be.
The shower curtain fell behind them, cutting them off from the outside world, trapping them in scalding water and dense steam. He didn't pick her up immediately. Instead, his large hand tangled within her thick hair, angling her head to exactly how he wanted it before leaning down slowly. Their eyes met searching for any hesitation, any reason to stop.
Nothing.
It was just them.
It was enough.
He tugged her hair more harshly, his fingers gripping the strands tightly before pulling her mouth to meet his in a bruising kiss.
It was hard, rough, harsh.
It was perfect.
Her arms wrapped around him, her nails immediately digging in to the skin at the base of his neck causing him to pull away with a hiss. Her hooded eyes met his and with a slight smirk he nodded his head once, bending his knees slightly to pick her up. His hand trailed down her back, the water making her skin silkier than normal. Giving her ass a cursory squeeze on the way down, he gripped both of her thighs tightly, hauling her up to him before slamming her in to the tile of the shower wall. A small expulsion of air was all he got from her as she gripped his face tightly bringing his mouth back to hers, her teeth scraping against his bottom lip, her fingers entwined in his dark strands made even darker by the water pouring from above them. She pulled hard, leaving his mouth to dig her teeth into his neck. With a gasp, he forced her into the wall with his hips, his hands leaving her thighs to grab her arms and hold them above her head with one hand.
His head dipped down, his lips attaching to her collarbone drawing sensitive skin in to his hot mouth enjoying her squirms as she tried to lower her arms. His free hand massaged her breast, fingers tugging on her nipple, smiling against her neck as a moan escaped her mouth.
"Let me go." she pleaded softly, her arms still weakly struggling against his strong grip. He released them immediately, his mouth finding hers again, feeding on it greedily. "No." he muttered against her mouth, cupping her jaw and angling her head again.
Gripping her hips tightly, he maneuvered her to a more stable position before situating himself, and slamming in to her welcoming body roughly.
It was a slow, but punishing pace, each thrust feeling like he was going deeper within her. He'd slam in to her only to withdraw slowly, inch by creeping inch only to repeat the process.
It was the perfect kind of torture.
She felt full, fuller than she had ever felt before with him like this.
It was too much and not enough.
It was everything and nothing.
She needed more.
"Harder." she whispered, her teeth scraping over his jaw. "You know you want to. Fuck me harder."
He pulled back and glared at her. "That what you want, sweetheart? For me to fuck you?"
Tightening her legs around his hips she used them to push up, her back sliding against the tile before dropping down as hard as she possibly could.
"Fuck..." he groaned out, meeting her movements with his own.
"Punish me." she demanded in a harsh whisper, "It's what you want to do, isn't it?"
With a growl his pace picked up slamming in to her as hard as he could, her walls gripping him tightly, her warmth seeping over him.
"I know you, EJ." she continued in her quiet voice, almost taunting him. "You miss me. You hate that you miss me. You hate that I'm not pregnant and you don't know why. You want to punish me." she arched her head back exposing her neck to him, "So, do it, baby. Punish me."
Just like back at the mansion, he snapped. He pulled her hair again, forcing her head back even further and sank his teeth into her soft skin, his cock going furiously into her willing, pliable body.
Her sounds of pleasure increased as his pace did, her hands scrapling to find purchase on his shoulders as she held her position above him, letting him continue to bite and bruise her delicate skin. Her nails dug in as her back arched further, her mouth falling open as she felt the tension that had been rising in her body come to a snapping point. A small scream escaped her mouth before she was shut up by his mouth crashing on to hers as he forced her body back up.
"I wanted it," he hissed, his forehead resting on hers, ignoring the water that was getting in their eyes, not slowing down.
"I know."
He dropped her down to her feet, forcing her body back around and pushing on her back until she bent at the waist, her hands resting against the wall.
"Do you?" he husked, pushing into her again, "Do you know, sweetheart? Care to explain it to me? Because I don't."
She moved her hips back in to him, drawing him in even deeper, causing a groan to come from deep in his chest.
She was so tight this way, so perfect around him.
"Yes."
His hand ran up her back before circling around to her front rubbing slow circles around her clit as she moaned, her head dropping forward.
"Look at me," he demanded. Her doe eyes made contact with his as she turned her head to look at him.
He was beginning to come apart, he could feel the tightening in his stomach and his dick getting even harder.
"Did you want it too?" he asked.
She was quiet for a moment before he gave her a rougher thrust. "Answer me." he insisted.
"Yes."
Gripping her shoulder, he brought her back up, her back to his front, bending his knees so he could remain inside her.
"Good." he grunted rubbing tighter, firmer, faster circles against her, moaning against her hair as she came around him again, spilling in to her, reaching the peak at the same time.
The water around them was turning tepid.
He slipped out from her turning her around and drawing her in to his arms, resting his head face first into her hair and inhaling.
This didn't answer anything. It didn't solve anything and it made them even messier than before.
But for the first time in two weeks, the noise inside stopped.
Here, with the rapidly cooling water, a thin curtain separating them from the world and reality, here is where had their peace.
It was not perfect or completed.
It was just them.