Cold Front
Chapter 2
The beast appeared to have been tamed. Its blustery fury had quieted to a low, distant rumble, and all that remained of the storm peppered against the window panes like sad, persistent knocking.
Victoria, too, had calmed. Her body had long since stilled from the shivering that had shaken them both, and the only sign of life now was the slow, steady breaths that told him she was okay. Each rise and fall was more reassuring than the last, but as convinced as he was, Billy dared not moved, content with the tender weight of her against him, the scent of her damp hair beneath his nose. They were safe this way, from the storm and from whatever happened next, and he was more than willing to stay in their current position all night, forever even, to avoid both. He would have, too, except that in the time it had taken Victoria to warm up, the fire had grown low, its faint dying embers calling out to him, begging for oxygen.
He waited as long as he could and then shifted and cleared his throat as a warning to her. "The fire…," he said, and his voice startled them both.
She complied without a word, nodding her understanding as she lifted her head from his chest and sat upright. Without looking at him, she drew her knees in close to her body and pulled the blanket she had refused earlier tight around her so that only her head and the tips of her toes were visible. She looked better. The pink had returned to her cheeks and lips, and though she stared blankly into space, he knew her eyes were void of fear. Suddenly cold again without her, Billy forced himself to stop looking at her and with one hand securing his own blanket, scooted like a three-legged crab to the fireplace. He used the poker to jab at the base of his creation, pushing at the ashes and the blackened logs until the red glow once again blazed before him. He stayed there longer than necessary, breathing life into the fire again and again, adding more wood to crackle and burn. He didn't know what else to do. Should he return to her? And if he did, would she come back to his arms or had that opportunity passed?
"Kinda ironic. Isn't it?"
Her voice was soft and low and crept up on him like a spiral of smoke that circled around him, embracing him from behind. He froze, poker still in hand, and waited for her to continue. When she didn't right away, he lowered his head and cocked it to the side, just enough to see her bundled silhouette behind him, a sign to her that he was listening.
"Ice princess can't take a little cold." She looked at him then, and he saw the hint of a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes planted at the corner of her mouth. "It's funny even. I can see the headlines now. 'Newman Heiress Freezes to Death…In June.' You could have a sold a ton of magazines."
He knew what she was doing. Deflecting. Trying to make light of the situation so they could move on without getting tangled in the awkwardness, without wading into the seriousness of what had happened, of what could have happened. It would have been easy to let her off the hook, to laugh or make a joke in return. It would have been easy for both of them. But he couldn't. He couldn't make light of it when all he could see was her, blue lips, frozen hands, that terrifying fear in her eyes. That heart-stopping fear of his own.
He glared at her, turning his head fully to meet her eyes. His response came as a surprise, a hurtful surprise, and she lowered her eyes immediately in shame and a silent apology. Billy returned the poker to its home and turned his back to the fire. He copied her pose, drawing his knees as close as the tautness of his blanket allowed and rested his arms on top of them. And he waited. The next move was hers.
At his silence, she looked back up and then away. She opened her mouth once to say something and then closed it. Her instinct was to lash out, to pick a fight, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her reconsider.
"I had a bad day," she finally shrugged, meeting his stare full on. "That's all. The weather...I didn't mean…I didn't…"
Her eyes pleaded with him to accept her answer, as miserable an explanation as it was. He did believe her, had no doubt she had had a bad day and that no matter how powerful the Newmans were or believed themselves to be, she hadn't planned on getting caught in a storm. He also knew there was more to it and that embarrassment and pride kept her from continuing. He understood that. He'd had some experience in that department.
"Well, it just so happens that I am the king of bad days." He flashed an animated smile, and the pressure in the room instantly lessened, like a breath released. "But see mine, they're usually of my own doing. There was this one time, in fact, I ended up drunk in a ditch. On New Year's Eve."
"So, I guess we're even now?"
"Naw." His smile faded, and in her eyes he saw that night reflected. He saw his miserable self dusted with snow, and he saw her, hand outstretched, a gesture of kindness from someone he deserved anything but. He had known even then that it was a moment that would change his life. "Not even close," he added quietly.
He was the first to look away, averting his eyes as the rest of that night came back to him quicker than it had the first time. He blamed their location. Memories were everywhere here, a cabin full of ghosts, every object hidden in the shadows holding a memory or secret from his past. He wanted to know her secrets. He wanted to know about her day, what had caused her to run from him, to storm out. He wanted her to tell him everything, and he wanted her to want to tell him. And then he wanted to fix it. It surprised him how much he wanted to fix it.
"You know," he started and gestured around the room with his eyes, "this place…it's uh, it's a lot like Vegas." Victoria furrowed her brow and shot him a look of disbelief. "Without the slot machines and lights and showgirls," he conceded with a contagious grin. "But what happens here…it sorta stays here. Like the last time we were here. The kangaroo court? Anything you say tonight, Vick…it won't go beyond these walls."
She studied him, his face, his eyes, and Billy knew she was trying to decide if she could trust him. Or maybe she was trying to decide if she even wanted to tell him at all. Her feet suddenly disappeared inside her ivory cocoon, and a bare arm surfaced to tuck one end of the blanket under her other arm. She was cross-legged now, and her freed hand ran through her tousled hair once and then again, pushing it to one side so that her exposed shoulder shimmered in the flickering candlelight.
"You weren't completely wrong before," she said drawing his eyes back to her face.
"Your dad? What he do now?"
"The usual. He's back from his Adam-hunting expedition. Which means—"
"Which means he's back to giving you grief," Billy finished for her.
"Giving me grief. Running my life. Second-guessing my decisions. It's all the same thing. And I really should be used to it by now." She laughed and shook her head and her fingertips traced the quilted design that covered her knee. "I was so proud when he asked me to run Newman while he was away. I thought maybe it was a sign he was backing off me and y…that he was backing off my personal life."
"It felt good," she smiled after a pause. "Sitting behind that desk. Running the family company. But the minute he got back, it all changed. It was just one stupid little comment. And I let it get to me."
Billy watched her as she talked, as she blamed herself for something that he couldn't help but feel partially responsible for. She looked like a little girl sitting there cross-legged on the floor, barefaced and big blue eyes full of hurt and vulnerability. He wanted to tell her to forget her dad, to live her own life and do what she wanted no matter what anyone thought. But he feared it would start a fight, and he also knew the push and pull of a parent-child relationship. So he held his tongue for once and continued to listen.
"So then I blew off a lunch meeting and went to see Nick. To commiserate a little." She exhaled loudly and then looked at him as if she remembered something. "That's where I was when you called by the way. About your jacket. I was at the jail. That's why I couldn't answer."
"I take it your brother wasn't much help?"
She shook her head in response and averted her eyes. She had gone to see Nick for comfort, selfish as it was given his circumstances. She'd only been there a few minutes when the topic of conversation shifted from how their father would never stop meddling in their lives to a second round of Nick telling her she was losing her edge because of some infatuation that wouldn't last. They had argued, and she had defended her relationship with Billy as casually as she could. But she was tired of downplaying it, tired of it even being brought into question.
"I guess it's true that jail changes a person," she said with a smirk. He smiled too, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he was willing to let her get away with one deflecting joke tonight. But, she declined his silent offer and grew serious again.
"The truth is..Nick can't really understand what it's like for me. Because if he wasn't in jail and if Adam wasn't a psychopath, Dad would have never left me in charge. He's got this chauvinistic view of the world. It's ingrained in him. And it's infuriating because no matter how hard I work, no matter how much harder I work, it's never enough. I'm not a son." Her voice faltered, and she let out an exhausted breath before attacking her hair again It was one of her tells, a sign she was frustrated and upset. "Even after all the things I've done for him. For the company. Things I'm not proud of."
The gun. Billy's mind went straight to Japan and the gun in the box she had carried into a meeting with a government official. It had been an obvious bribe, obviously arranged by Victor, but carried out by the woman he had followed halfway around the world. He hadn't thought of it since their trip, not since he'd walked her back to her room after karaoke and trapped her against the paper-thin door. He'd smiled and leaned close, prepared to continue his argument for sharing a room, but she surprised him instead, sliding the door to reveal that his bags had already been moved to her room. The rest of the trip had been them. The gun was a non-issue, one he didn't want to think about again.
The secret of the gun loomed between them, and suddenly the distance was too much. The fire was hot at his back now, and he gratefully used it as an excuse to crawl back to her. He was even more grateful when she welcomed him with a smile, a smile he clearly saw reach her eyes. They could see each other better, their faces, all the little nuances they were still learning about each other, the nerves that fluttered deep within. Billy eased his back against the end of the sofa inches from her and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the fire, getting reacquainted with their closeness.
"My dad was always hardest on me too," Billy said after a few minutes, "I used to think it was because he didn't really want another kid. That I was a nuisance he was stuck with when he'd rather be golfing. But now I think maybe he just forgot. I mean, by the time I came along, Jack and Ash and Traci were grown. They had families and successful careers. I think he forgot that before they got their acts together, they were kids. I'm a screw-up, I'm not denying that. But no matter what I did, good or bad, it was compared to them. All of my screw-ups were compared to them."
It was a conversation now. A heartfelt, honest conversation. Victoria offered him a sympathetic look, one that he returned before looking away. She liked having close, liked that she only had to whisper now for him to hear her.
"None of mattered today, though," she said. "I wasn't going to let it. Because tonight was my night with Reed. All night, too. Not just a few hours. I had it all planned. First we were going to go to the park and play and get ice cream Then we were going to pick up a pizza on the way home. Pepperoni and mushroom. He's the only kid I know who likes mushrooms on his pizza. Then I was going to introduce him to E.T."
Her face was alive as she talked, but guilt consumed Billy as he realized she was stuck there instead of with her son because of him, because of that damn jacket. "Vick...I'm sorry. I'm really…I didn't.."
"No," she said so gently it felt like a touch. "When I got to the coffeehouse to pick him up, he comes running at me with his little overnight bag, shouting 'Can I, Mommy. Can I.'" Her face turned sad then, her heart broke right in front of him. "One of his friends from day camp wanted him to spend the night with him instead."
"And you let him go."
"I couldn't say 'no' to that little face. And J.T. just stood there and said, 'It's up to Mommy.' Like he wanted me to be the bad guy."
She wiped at her eyes, and Billy couldn't resist scooting closer to her. The pieces of her day had fallen into place, only the last one hung in the air. She had come to him. When the rest of the world had let her down, she had come to him. He leaned his head against hers and right away felt her lean back against him. "Divorce sucks."
"I just never want him to go through what I did with my parents. I thought J.T. wanted the same thing."
"Want me to beat him up? The offer's still good."
"No," she said and broke their connection to reiterate her point. But behind her serious tone, there was a spark that fueled him.
"Want me to tell your dad what we did in his office? He'll never go in there again. It'll be all yours, sweetheart."
"Don't you dare!" she warned, but her eyes and mouth betrayed her. He wanted to kiss her so hard, so hard she forgot her day, but she pulled away before he could let his intentions be known. "Why do you put up with me?
"I could ask you the same question."
"I'm serious. All you've gotten so far is a black eye and daily verbal abuse. And don't say sex. Because I'm sure you could find plenty of women to have sex with."
"Well, I have seen you with a limbo bar," he quipped. "And you can hold your liquor. That's important."
She smiled and looked away, silently accepting his less-than-sincere answer. And maybe that was what gave him the courage to go on. That or the side of her face glowing in the candlelight, the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder.
"And you're beautiful," he whispered. She froze and swallowed hard. "And smart. And funny. And you don't know any of those things about yourself. You're strong. The strongest person I know. You went through a divorce and a custody battle and you held your head high. You never let your little boy feel anything other than loved. And you're kind. You pull people out of ditches when they don't deserve it, make them see what they're worth. Challenge'em to be better."
She wasn't breathing, and Billy could tell she was fighting the urge to look at him. He saved her the effort and leaned close, positioning his lips right at her ear. "And for the record," he smiled, "the sex is very, very, very, very, very…incredible."
She laughed. It started low, but quickly grew louder and deeper. He wished she could feel that from his side, the warmth she created with a sound. Somewhere during the laughter, her blanket loosened and slipped low, skimming the fullness of her breasts. He tried not to look, but he couldn't help it. There was nothing childlike about her now. She was a woman, a woman with a collarbone he had traced with his finger, skin he had tasted, legs he had parted in search of pleasure. And a heart. A heart she had revealed in jagged little piece by jagged little piece.
She caught him looking when she found the courage to face him again. She watched the way his eyes drank her in, the way his hand shook as it reached out and touching only the blanket, covered her. It was then and only then that they remembered that beneath the warmth and security that smelled faintly of cloves and smoke was nothing but flesh. She blushed as a flash of him pealing soaked clothes from her body ran through her mind and then jumped as a flash of lightning illuminated the room. Billy had been wrong. The beast wasn't tamed; it was only resting and now beat harder and harder against the roof.
"I guess we're stuck here for a while," she said, her eyes on his mouth and then his muscled chest. "Probably all night even."
"Yeah," he managed to say with little air. "Probably."
"What are we going to do? To pass the time?"
"There's, uh, there's a, uh, a jigsaw puzzle in the closet. A thousand pieces."
"Hmm? I don't really think there's enough light for that."
"Board games? There's Scrabble. Or monopoly? I bet-I bet you're good at that one."
"I'm good at a lot of things," she whispered and turned towards him, tucking her legs to the side. "Too good maybe."
He raised from his reclining position in response and lifted a hand into the air, contorting it into one shape after another. "Shadow puppets?"
The dark outline of his arm waved across the floor and then the wall behind them. Victoria raised her free arm to meet it, her fingertips grazing the valleys between his fingers, at the places where they met his palm. "I was thinking of something a little more like this."
Her lips touched his, but didn't move. Billy clasped his hand around hers and with his other, stroked her face. Her eyes were on fire, and he found it hard to believe she wanted him as much as he wanted her. "I think I like this," he said against her mouth, and then she proved him wrong and kissed him hard.
She forced her way into his mouth, not that he put up a fight. Her tongue slid between his lips, and she let go of his shadow puppet hand so she could pull him closer, dive deeper into him. He was drowning and not even trying to save himself.
"Wait," he said when she came up for air. "You sure? I mean…you're okay?"
"Yes," she breathed, but pulled away from him. Her arm that had remained hidden since he first wrapped her in the blanket emerged, as bare as her other arm, and gravity took over. The folds of ivory tumbled, slipped to her waist, exposing her perfect full breasts. "I'm sure."
"But we're not fighting," Billy smiled.
"No. We don't always fight."
It was all the convincing he needed. He kissed her this time, soft and slow. His lips nibbled at hers, teasing her, making her beg for more. She tugged at him, pulling him towards her, to the floor. He let her, but stopped them midway, supporting her body and his with one flexed arm while he stretched and reached for the sofa. She looked at him with confused eyes until his vagrant arm returned with a pillow that he placed just below the spot where he lay her head.
She looked like a mermaid there on the floor. The ivory quilt remained swaddled around her waist and only the very tips of her feet peeked out from the end. Her dark hair sprayed out beneath her head, making it look as though she were underwater. He couldn't stop looking at her, and he couldn't stop the throbbing of his own arousal.
"Kiss me," she said.
"I will. Soon as I decide where."
Though they were hidden, Billy saw her squeeze her legs together to increase the pleasure she already felt. He touched her with the tips of his fingers first, lightly, on her stomach, dragging them backwards across the muscular plane. She sucked in a mouthful of air at the ticklish sensation, and smooth skin pimpled with a chill. His palm flattened against her and crept up her body as he lowered his head to her mouth. She parted her lips in anticipation of his but gasped when his hand reached her breast and his fingers parted to capture the tiny, hard pink tip in between. He squeezed her nipple, and she arched into his touch.
It was sweet torture, but torture nonetheless. The pull from deep within her core only strengthened the longer he didn't kiss, and just when death seemed imminent, he leaned in for a kiss. But her mouth wasn't the target. He faked her out, sliding all the down her body until she felt his fiery hot tongue on her hip. He pushed aside the blanket, exposing more of her and then licked his way back across her abdomen, dragging his teeth across tender skin. She pulled at him, demanding him back to her. He complied, making his way up her body, one kiss at a time until he found he found his way home again in her mouth.
He kept his distance, though, knowing he had to slow down or it would be over soon. As they kissed, his rogue hand flitted down her body again, landing gently at the edge of her quilted mermaid's half. He left it there as their tongues danced, as her hands roamed across his chest and back. The desire was too much, though. He wanted to touch her, to feel her. He pressed against her stomach, creating a gap between her and the blanket, just enough room for his fingers to slip beneath.
Her breathing hitched as soon as he touched skin that was softer than the rest of her, and involuntarily, her legs parted to accommodate him. He tiptoed across her, relishing the knowledge that it was his privilege to touch her there, to touch her everywhere. His fingers massaged her and circled that tiny nub that gave her so much pleasure.
"Billy…" she sighed, but he ignored her and continued his assault on her mouth and neck and his exploration below.
"Billy…," she said again and grabbed his arm. Her breathing had changed. It was ragged, and his name sounded more like a plea this time. "I'm…ready."
"I know," he smiled against her ear.
Her hand moved between them and slipped beneath his own protection. She took him in her hand, her fingers traveling the firm length of him. "So are you."
"Mmmm," Billy half-moaned, half-gasped as he struggled to free himself from her tantalizing grip. "Uh uh. Not yet." He lowered his head to her ear, lowered his voice to a whisper as his teeth rubbed against her earlobe and his rogue hand found a new depth. "I wanna watch you."
Her body stiffened, and a rush of blood crept across her cheeks. It was true, though. He wanted to watch her. He wanted to learn everything about her, all her secrets, all the secret parts of her, the places she liked being touched, the places that made her say his name like a prayer. They had all night. The storm was unrelenting, and he wanted to take his time.
His touched convinced her, or gave her little choice. She released him, and her eyes closed automatically as the sensations became too much. He watched every inch of her, from her fist gripping the pillow beneath her head to her toes that curled and unculrled again and again. Her breathing changed, deepened. She was panting, and her stomach sank lower with each new plea for air. When he found that place of anatomical lore, she arched her back like a bridge and clamped her lower lip between her teeth. She was possessed by pleasure, a look of anguish Billy knew was bliss on her face. She was close, so close, caught between begging him to stop and pleading with him to continue. He moved faster and faster, and she moved against him, taking what she needed until finally, suddenly her body went rigid and clamped onto him hard. She was in a white light world, shattered and whole at the same time. Billy continued a gentle massage until her face melted into a smile.
Victoria looked at him as she tried to catch her breath, and he was both surprised and relieved that she wore no trace of embarrassment. Instead, her eyes were full of one thing only - desire. She kissed his nose and gently guided his hand from her, pushing away the rest of her cover and his as she did. She rolled to her side and pressed against him, kissing him on the mouth as her leg hooked across him. In one move, she flipped him onto his back and was on top of him before he knew it, a smooth knee on either side of him. The kiss was broken when she sat up, the mermaid no more rising above him, her mouth red and swollen, her hair a curtain on either side of her face. He followed her, rising to meet her body, his mouth in desperate need of hers while his erection pressed between them.
He was trying to hold back. It was torture to hold back when all he wanted was to be deep inside her. But she wasn't ready yet. Couldn't be ready yet. And he wanted to let her have a little control back, after what she had let him do. He placed his hands on top of the silky thighs that flanked him and scraped the back of his hands across her hips until they found the dip of her lower back. His fingers played there gently, drawing circles, dipping lower with each pass until Victoria arched her back, and her breasts were thrust against his mouth. He took one hard, tender nipple into his mouth, sucking at it, licking it, rolling it around and around.
She pulled him off her when the sensation became too much and the need for more of him became overwhelming. She rested her forehead against his as she reached between them, taking him in her hand. She kept her eyes on him as she touched him, running her fingers up and down his shaft and then guiding him to her, positioning him at her opening. She used his shoulders for support and watched him as she took him in her.
All around them, the world flung itself in violent rages, the fire, the storm. They raged and roared, demanding to be heard, but in the space between Billy and Victoria, all was quiet save for the pounding of hearts and slow, exhausted breaths. It felt right, so right.
She was the first to move, raising her hips until they were nearly two again. Billy cradled her back, pulling her back to him, the first steps in a dance. She pushed and he pulled. They rocked, the speed a little faster each time. It wasn't enough, though, not for him. It wasn't enough of her. Billy needed more. He grabbed one of her legs, unfolding it, pulling it around his back, and then did the same with the other. She latched onto him, a death grip that pulled him deeper inside of her. He was so close to release, but fearing she wasn't, he moved his hand between them and found the little pearl still engorged from earlier. Her nails dug into his shoulder, and every sound from her lips was his name, different every time she spoke it, a plea, a moan, a demand. A thank you.
"Vick?" he breathed against her, and she nodded. He thrust harder and harder, again and again, until she exploded around him and he finally allowed himself relief, deep inside.
They both shook, their bodies trembling as if from the cold again. They were in that same blinding place, this time together, each of them soothing the other with tender touches.
She laughed first, against the sheen of sweat that covered his chest, and he soon followed. Neither wanted to move from this place of honesty and trust. Where there was no disappointment. No hurt. No summer rain that felt like the freezing end of the world. In that moment, all that existed inside their haven was a storm, a fire and a single shadow that danced among secrets.