Maybe It's Better This Way
---
Bit of a short chapter I'm afraid, but you do get smut and scene setting for a little trip to somewhere beginning with B. Personally I think that's just what they need…who knows what could happen there. Next chapter will be up Wed night/Thursday morning without fail. Promise
---
Chapter 22: Within Seconds
Kirsten watched lazily through half closed lids as Sandy, still damp from surfing, crept into their bedroom. He stripped off the faded blue T-shirt he was wearing and she felt a slight something run through her at the sight of his muscular back and toned arms. Was it desire? She loved her husband, completely and utterly, truly, madly, deeply, but actual animal desire she hadn't felt in a while. She'd still wanted him, wanted the relationship they used to have, but couldn't cope with the reality. Last night she'd been frightened but this morning it was as though something had stirred again and she knew she had to act on it.
Shaking his head vigorously, water droplets spattering the carpet, Sandy tiptoed towards his wife ready to wake her with the first of the day's many kisses. 'You're awake,' he said softly, surprised as her eyes opened before he reached her. She smiled, thinking how hot he looked with wet hair and how bright a blue his eyes were. Sandy leant forwards and instead of the only momentary brush of their lips that was now usual, he felt Kirsten's mouth crash against his own, her tongue begging admittance. Almost reflexively he obliged, deepening the kiss, but soon broke away. 'Kirsten?' he asked uneasily, they'd barely been talking recently, never mind this. Even last night hadn't been so passionate. She didn't reply, merely kissing him again, harder this time and pulling him on top of her. She could taste salt and coffee and feel grains of sand as her hands pushed through his hair and roamed down his back. As she tugged at his swim shorts he tried again, 'Kirsten?'
'Shut up Sandy,' she replied, distracting him far to well with her wandering lips and hands. Kicking off the shorts which were now round his ankles he slid his own hand under his too-big sweater that she was wearing again, and felt her warm skin quiver at his touch. In one swift movement it was over her head and lying discarded on the floor. His eyes hungrily took in her perfect body for a moment before it was pressed demandingly against him.
They writhed together, heated kisses pushing Sandy further towards the edge.
'Are you sure you want to do this?' He forced himself to pause and pant out the question before he lost control.
Did she want to do this? She didn't even know. Damn Sandy for being so polite and careful, couldn't he forget about being the gentleman for once?
'We don't have to, just because we…'
If he kept on like this she was going to crack, change her mind and she couldn't do that. Not now they were this close. They had to get back on solid ground. They'd always had a physical relationship they couldn't lose that, somehow she had to get past this.
'Please, just do it Sandy, please.'
He trailed a soft hand down her body, forcing himself to revert from the frenzied fervour to gentle affection. She felt tears pricking her eyes, 'Don't,' she muttered. The hand stopped immediately but that wasn't what she meant. 'Not like that. Don't be slow and cautious, just…' It had to be fast so she didn't have time to think.
Sandy nodded; it was agony to curb the urges and within seconds they were back to the passion of before; a turbulent meeting of hands, lips, skin, mouths, tongues and bodies.
---
Kirsten began to cry before it was over; silent tears sliding from under her eyelids, heavy breathing becoming high-pitched and her climactic moan more of a sob as she collapsed crying. She rolled over, away from Sandy and curled up in a ball, shaking with violent sobs. Sandy sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing hers, feeling guilty, incredibly guilty. He shouldn't have done it. He should have stopped himself, stopped her, not listened. But it had been so hard, so easy to give in. She was practically begging him and he couldn't refuse her for anything, she was so desirable, looked so good in his clothes. He was a man goddamit, how the hell was he supposed to say no? The Cohens were very sexual beings, but that shouldn't mean he should be a man first, husband second. He'd let himself get carried away and now his wife was weeping uncontrollably next to him. He didn't have anything left to say, didn't know what else he could do to comfort her, everything seemed to have the same effect; more tears. Feeling terrible he stood up and headed for the shower. Hot water to wash away the salt, sweat and scent of sex, ten minutes to think, figure out an apology, figure out where they could go next.
---
'Sorry,' he said when he reappeared, 'we shouldn't have, I shouldn't have…'
Kirsten, still curled up naked in the bedclothes but minus the tearstains, smiled softly at him, 'You didn't; it was me. I wanted to, I made you.'
'But I worried you about it.'
'Sandy…' she sighed, 'It's fine. We shouldn't have done it that way but it happened. And we needed it to. It was high time.'
'I…'
'Don't worry about it okay? I'm fine and it means next time won't be so…emotionally charged.'
'Are you sure? You don't want to forget about it for a while?'
She shook her head, 'Let's just take it slow; see what happens.' Her husband extended an arm and rubbed her shoulder, happy when she didn't pull away. 'I'm gonna go get dressed,' she murmured, dropping a kiss on his cheek. 'Love you.'
'Love you too.'
-----
One afternoon, a few days later, Sandy found Kirsten sat at the kitchen table surrounded by sheets of paper; graphs, figures, contracts and plans from the package her father had sent over first thing Monday morning.
Caleb had been surprised by the guilty phone call on Sunday; unaware of the events that had transpired the night before and that morning. He and his son-in-law had had a surprisingly lengthy and agreeable conversation the result being that Kirsten would receive all the documents not being dealt with by the temporary CFO but anything she couldn't manage was to be forwarded straight to Caleb. Sandy figured it was a good enough compromise and what Kirsten didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Particularly important in light of the fact he'd coerced Caleb consent in making sure that when his daughter did come back to the office it would be on better terms and only gradually becoming full-time.
He'd thought giving in to her work demands would make her happy, keep her focussed, perhaps make her sleep better at night if she was busy during the day, hopefully bring her closer to who she used to be. But it seemed to him more like she still wasn't quite ready for the pressure. Endless figures, blueprints, multi-million dollar deals, awkward contractors, measurements to be checked and double checked, fast judgements to be made. An entire business and reputation rested on her making the correct ones, on being exact with the numbers. The margin of loss or gain was always in six figures. He knew she didn't want to make a mistake, felt she had a lot to prove after her lengthy absence, was doubting her own abilities despite her intelligence and experience. For as long as he'd known her Kirsten had almost always exuded confidence, particularly in her work. Even when she was stressed there was that steely resolve and quiet confidence but today she looked frazzled, he noted, frantically searching through the mess and pushing her hair out of her face every few seconds.
'You don't have to do this now,' he said quietly, coming up behind her.
Kirsten jumped at the sound of his voice, knocking yet another pile of documents to the floor and bursting into tears. 'Yes, yes, I do,' she sobbed, hurriedly reaching for the papers. Sandy immediately swept them up and held them out of reach. 'Your dad is pushing you too hard.'
'He's got a business to run.'
'He's also got a daughter who only came out of hospital a few weeks ago.'
'He didn't say I had to do this okay Sandy?' she said angrily. 'Stop blaming him.'
'So you're forcing yourself?'
'I have to keep busy.'
'Kirsten…'
His wife rubbed her face with her hands, 'I'm fine, I'm fine.'
'You're not fine, you're crying over some crumpled paper.'
'Not…crying,' she muttered, tensing up as Sandy began to rub her shoulders.
'I was thinking, this weekend we could have a little break, maybe go down to Berkeley, well…up to Berkeley but let's not argue over technicalities.'
'Berkeley?'
'You, me and a little road trip.'
'Road trip? It takes seven hours.'
'Six, I checked,' he corrected. 'But if that's the way you feel we could always fly; just one hour…'
'I don't know Sandy. I don't really feel like going anywhere.'
'It'll do you good to get out of Newport for a while.'
'I should really try and talk to my dad; find out how things are at the office. I can't get the big picture with just these bits and pieces. That's the problem.'
'If we're gonna get through this, all on our own. No doctors, no shrinks as you call them, we're going to need to get back on solid ground.'
'What about the boys?'
'They're seventeen honey; I think they can manage to be responsible for a few days. If not, we have the joy of grounding them when we get back!'
'You enjoy that far too much.'
'I know,' Sandy grinned, ducking his head and kissing her. Kirsten hesitated and kicked herself. Why was she so nervous? This was her husband. They were past this awkwardness, or they had been until she had forced him into their impromptu tryst at the weekend. He hadn't exactly been complaining though, something she felt rather flattered about. He still wanted her. She had to stop thinking and just kiss him back.
'So, about the weekend?' he asked when they broke apart.
'Ok.'
'Ok as in 'yes' or ok as in 'I'll think about it, basically no'?
'Ok, yes.'
'Really?'
'You're right, we need this.'
---
---
Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, not around the eyes, into my eyes. You're under. When you awake you will think 'I will review.' 3, 2, 1 and you're back in the room.
---