The Righteous and The Wicked Page 13

  “I know, but I haven’t seen him or heard from him since. It’s been weeks. He came over almost every day before we . . . you know. It just seems like maybe it was a one-time thing for him? Or maybe he didn’t enjoy it? I don’t know.”

  Emma struggles to explain the difficult dynamic between her and Eric without giving away his dark secret. “I just feel like maybe he wants to be just . . . I don’t think sex is . . . he’s just . . . he’s not like other guys.”

  “Guys are dicks, Emma. They always play these kinds of games.” Abby smiles and sips. “What’s his name anyway?”

  “Eric. His name is Eric.”

  “Are you going to Sean and Danni’s engagement party? You should bring him. Danni and I would love to meet Sexy Neighbor Guy—I mean Eric—in person.”

  “I haven’t seen him or heard from him, how am I going to ask him out on a date? Besides, I don’t think he’s into dating. I think it might be over.”

  When these words leave Emma’s lips, she feels her heart crack and split in ways she did not expect.

  “So . . . what . . . he just fucked you once and that’s it? Just call him.”

  Emma chokes on her coffee. “Will you watch your mouth, Abby?”

  “Well, if you’re not going to bring him to the engagement party, then you should at least invite him to the Carnival next week. That’s innocent enough, right?”

  Emma almost laughs out loud at the visual of Stormy Eyes at a Catholic Charity Carnival, but she has been racking her brain trying to think of an excuse to see him. Several deceitful ideas have crossed her mind.

  She’s thought of breaking one of the already almost broken things in her house, and asking for his help. She’s even thought of locking herself out. A part of her wants him to heal from his sickness, but a larger part of her wants to tempt him into it again, to have his hands on her once more. She’s been scheming of some way to have him in her grasp. Being at Eric’s mercy has been all she can think of. Her attraction to him is consuming her; it’s almost like an addiction.

  “Yeah. Maybe I will. We’ll see.”

  The wind chime clinks and wavers in the wind, releasing its sweet song into the spring evening. Emma sits alone in jeans and a sweatshirt on her porch in the fading light of the day. She’s gone back to wandering through the halls of her home like a ghost. Alone, abandoned, cast off, unwanted. She holds her cell phone in her hand. She’s in a trance, staring at the path between their houses. To have someone come into her life and then vanish, after being alone for so long, is crushing her. The longing for him is like honey in her veins, thick and heavy.

  She imagines him emerging from the woods, a tempest in his eyes, his body swaggering toward her. She wants him to come to her, and tell her that he needs it again. She wants him to carry her up the stairs and twist and bend her body into submission. To be pressed against him, to feel his kiss and his breath. To hear her name fall from his lips as she gives him what he craves. She wants to lie naked in his strong arms, held and secure, shielded and serene.

  The path is empty. All she hears is the wind chime’s mournful song and all she feels is lonely.

  Monday. Emma wakes, dresses and drives to work. An emotionless robot, she has surrendered to the fact that Eric doesn’t want her the way she wants him. She has accepted that it’s over.

  She puts on a fake smile and pretends everything is fine as she stops at the gas station for her precious morning coffee. As she walks toward the shop, she stops, and slams her palm against her forehead. She forgot her wallet. She turns to head back to her car, and freezes when she sees the black Jeep—and Eric resting against it. He’s pumping gas. He sees her and a smile spreads across his face for a brief instant and then fades.

  Emma can’t move but Eric waves and she has the sense to wave back. He replaces the pump and stands there, his arms folded across his chest. He’s covered in earth and grit from his work. He beckons to her and her heart drops to her feet.

  Just watching her walk toward him makes him hard. He knows he’s the worst thing that could ever happen to her. He has to finish the house and get as far away as he can before he destroys her. But his now awakened heart, not his mind, cries out when he sees her beautiful face. It screams when he sees her small smile and it pounds when she follows his unspoken request to come to him.

  She’s dressed in an elegant black skirt and a cream-colored blouse. Her hair is pinned up and he has to contain his impulse to release it. His thoughts flash back to her naked, and sweating, and screaming in his arms. As she gets closer, the hurt that hides in her warm eyes becomes visible, and it’s like a stake through his chest because he’s the one who made her feel it. He knows she’s hurt because he feels the agony, too. Trying to keep himself away from her has been a burden, not just because he craves her body, but because he misses her.

  They will feel pain if they try to resist and stay apart, and they will feel pain if they give in to temptation. A double-edged sword. Is it better for them to stay silent and restrained, or willingly walk through the door?

  Emma is aware that this is a pivotal moment. There’s a reason she’s seeing him here, in this place—the place she saw him for the very first time. This is God telling her to reach out, to grab on to this man. She takes this as a sign that she’s on the right path, and though she knows Eric must disagree, she feels compelled to pursue it, whether he likes it or not. The anguish his absence has caused her has been too much to bear and she refuses to sit by while things she wants are taken from her, again. Instead of giving, she wants to take.

  “Where have you been, Eric? Why haven’t you called me?”

  He looks at her long and hard before he answers. Emma can’t read his emotion, but his eyes don’t lie. There’s something there. She glances over his body, and the dark part of her mind imagines sinful things.

  “I was working.” He steps toward her and runs his hands through his hair with frustration. He stops just short of where she is, just far enough away so he can’t touch her, or she him. They both feel and resist the magnetic pull. Eric wants to leave this poor girl alone, but he just can’t help himself. He wants her, he needs her.

  “When can I see you again?”

  She doesn’t hesitate to answer him. “Friday night. There’s a carnival at St. Simon’s.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The parking lot of the church is converted into every child’s, and child at heart’s, dream come true. Lights blink and stutter. Screams and laughter cascade from thrill-seekers on fast rides, and the delicious smell of things that are bad for you fill the air. Beneath the Ferris wheel, Danielle holds the hand of the giant child she will soon be married to. Sean is buzzing as they walk through the bright, noisy carnival, seeking ways to ingest sugar and win obnoxious and large stuffed animals. Her impending wedding is causing her much more joy and excitement than stress because of her doting and considerate fiancé, and for that, she is grateful.

  She smiles at him as he stuffs a chunk of fried dough in his mouth and then leans in to kiss her with powdered-sugar-coated lips. He lifts her up off the ground with his muscular arms and she closes her eyes, content with the life she has chosen. However, that feeling flees when she opens her eyes.

  Through the crowd, she sees Eric and his presence causes disquiet. He walks with a woman, and Danielle feels pity for whoever it is. She wonders why anyone would choose to keep company with someone so rotten and despicable. She feels bad for the woman, but she feels worse when she sees who it is. Her innocent smile is unmistakable. The woman with Eric is Emma.

  Danielle’s jaw drops in shock. “Babe, I think we need to go.” She pulls on Sean’s immovable body.

  “What? Why? I’m just getting started here,” he whines.

  “I had too many turns on the Tilt-a-Whirl. I feel sick. Can we please just go home?”

  Sean rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around his girl, half carrying her to the car. Danielle needs to think of a tactful way to warn Emma about Eric. She doesn’t wa
nt to run into them here. Emma would see her disgust; she has never been able to hide her feelings from her friend. Over her shoulder, she sees Eric staring at Emma. Her face is flushed and she smiles as Eric touches her cheek.

  Eric walks beside Emma through the carnival, dressed in a crisp, button-down shirt and slim-fitting jeans. The tantalizing odors that surround him seem like a minuscule temptation compared to the captivating appeal of Emma, and the things his monster wants to do to her. He’s in constant conflict—he wants to resist and he wants to surrender again.

  Emma feels the night breeze blow against her skin through her thin dress and, along with it, the scent of Eric. He walks close to her, and she feels the heat coming off his body. It mingles with hers and the resulting chemistry binds them together. In this crowded place, it’s as if they are the only two people on earth.

  “I missed you, you know.” The words come out of Emma’s mouth before she can stop them. They tumble out and there’s no taking them back.

  Eric stops walking and turns to her. The passionate look on his face lets Emma know he feels the same. He doesn’t have to say it, but he does. He brushes his fingers along her cheek and she blushes.

  “I missed you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t call.” His brow furrows and he swallows hard.

  Emma looks away, unable to sustain the intensity of his eye contact. “I understand why you didn’t, but please don’t do that again.” More uncontrollable words flow from her traitorous lips.

  Eric is silent, and Emma knows it’s because he can’t promise her anything. He can’t promise that he won’t break her heart.

  “This isn’t going to be easy.” It’s not an answer, or a promise, or a pledge, but at least he speaks.

  “Well, I’m not expecting it to be. You’re not living if you don’t have scars.”

  Eric is taken aback at the statement, not just because it’s Emma who said it, but because it’s true. Waves of his new and deep feelings for her rise, and crest, and retreat. He doesn’t want to be the one who scars her. He slips his fingers between hers and they continue to stroll hand in hand through the carnival.

  Emma stops short before the cotton candy vendor. Eric doesn’t ask, he just buys the pink sugar spun on a stick, and Emma smiles like a grateful child as he hands it to her. She breaks off a piece of the sticky sweetness and peace washes over her, but the man beside her is still a mystery. Being next to him is so pleasurable, but her curiosity about what’s going on inside his head gets the better of her. She wants to know if he regrets what happened between them so she asks him the question that’s been brewing in her mind.

  “Do you ever wish that you hadn’t come to Pine Lake?”

  “If I wish for anything, Emma, it’s to be worthy of someone like you.”

  Her heart melts as his hand squeezes hers.

  “Do you ever wish you still lived in Boston, with Aaron?” he asks.

  “I’ve had that wish in my heart for a very long time, but I’m beginning to see that the love we shared wasn’t right. It was . . . I don’t know how to explain it. Aaron was my whole life for so long. I just see things differently now.”

  Eric is glad to hear she’s moving past the hurt, but he can also sense she feels love for her absent husband, and he doesn’t like it.

  Amid the maze of booths and rides at the church carnival, an arrogant blond woman walks twirling her hair. She’s alone. Her husband is away on business, as usual. She’s meeting a date who is now very late, and she’s annoyed. Deborah isn’t accustomed to waiting. The men she has affairs with should consider themselves lucky. All she wants is sex, and that’s all she takes. She scans the crowd looking for her current boyfriend, but someone else catches her eye.

  She remembers him. She saw him at the hardware store. He’s a piece of ass, and she was attracted to him but he was too intimidated by her to act on her subtle flirtation. Deborah watches him getting cozy with a plain-looking woman who is obviously not good enough for him. The man seems to be enraptured by her. His muscular arms are confined in his shirt and Deborah wonders what could be confined in his pants. His face carries a light cover of stubble and Deborah’s desire is powerful and immediate, like a thunderbolt. She wanders closer to the couple, wiggling her hips, hoping to get the man’s attention.

  Eric follows Emma as she wanders to an out-of-the-way bench with her puff of cotton candy. The stars of the night sky twinkle above where they sit. Eric slides over until their knees and elbows touch. Her alluring face looks at him with kindness, but he sees a hungry spark in her eyes. He knows that look. A small wisp of the pink sugar lingers on the corner of her mouth, and he brushes it away with his thumb then licks the sweetness. He watches Emma as he does it, and yes, he knows that look.

  Emma’s beautiful eyes are distracted by something else, and Eric becomes jealous of whomever or whatever it is—until he sees that it’s a woman. A leggy, long-haired blonde is playing with her hair and pretending not to stare at them. She’s alone and Eric doesn’t recognize her. She’s not one of his plentiful previous victims.

  Emma breaks off another chunk of cotton candy. Her eyes leave the woman and return to Eric. “Do you want some?”

  Eric answers with an open mouth and Emma feeds him. She leans into him. “She’s watching us, you know. That woman over there.”

  He feels her breath on his neck and has a powerful impulse to kiss her.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  She looks in his eyes; she’s so close to his mouth. “Well, she’s noticing you. Maybe you should go talk to her.”

  Eric chuckles, but Emma is serious. He’s baffled by her request for him to go speak to a strange woman and leave her here alone. Then it dawns on him—Naughty Emma likes to watch. The Emma who followed him to the bar, who listened at his trailer door . . . he can’t believe she’s suggesting for him to do this. She’s not as fragile and innocent as he thought she was.

  Aroused by her forward request, Eric is more than willing to accommodate her fantasy. “Emma, are you saying you’d like to watch me flirt with that woman?”

  She bites her lip and crosses her legs. She doesn’t speak, but nods.

  He smiles a devilish grin. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  The cotton candy has dissolved into sweet syrup in her mouth, and as she watches Eric walk away from her, she fantasizes about all the things her emerging vixen wants to do with him. Emma glances toward the stone cross that tops the steeple of the church in the distance, and then back down at the anonymous woman Eric is approaching. She’s just the type Eric would pursue, and that threat and possibility heightens the thrill of this even further for her. The flame that burns inside Emma smolders and she’s feeding it with her sinful request to watch Eric toy with this stunning woman.

  The woman’s face lights up as Eric approaches her. She wants him. He’s irresistible. Emma can’t hear what they’re saying, but she knows Eric is flirting. He says something in her ear and the woman finds it amusing. She puts her hand on Eric’s shoulder. He looks toward Emma and returns the gesture by grasping the woman’s hip as he speaks to her. His eyes are on Emma’s—he never even looks at the woman. He touches her, but stares at Emma . . . and Emma is on fire.

  The eroticism of watching Eric flirt with this woman has incited her crazed lust. She takes another bite of the cotton candy and begins to envision Eric touching that woman, what it would look like if they were together. Her darkness rises and she imagines watching him fuck the hell out of that girl. The jealousy stirred over that false image overrides her lust, and then she imagines it’s her that he’s touching, that she is the one Eric is making love to. She will have to seduce him tonight—she can’t help herself. He may need to restrain from crossing over into the dark depths, but Emma no longer can.

  When Deborah sees Mr. Gorgeous walk toward her, she’s not the least bit surprised. She looks good tonight and she knows it. She’s used to receiving attention from all kinds of men and tonight she has struck gold. He says hello and sh
e can’t take her eyes off his full lips.

  “I was just noticing you standing over here all alone, but you can’t be here all by yourself. Someone as tempting as you must be waiting for a date,” he says.

  He moves closer. Deborah knows how to play this game. She touches his shoulder and giggles at his compliment. Then she feels his hands on her hip and her skin tingles. Deborah’s already thinking of where he will take her. She envisions herself riding him, his hands groping her breasts. She envisions his head between her legs. She yearns to make her dirty thoughts of this stranger a reality.

  Eric recognizes the woman, but he can’t place from where. Was she a victim of his? No . . . then he remembers, he saw her that day at the hardware store. She hunts just like he does. This woman is like the others Eric used to seek, but now that he’s presented with this familiar scenario, he realizes he no longer wants to live this life. His sick need and constant craving for sexual release still occupy his mind, but the desire for the woman to be a random stranger is gone. Although he doesn’t want to let the dark parts of himself touch Emma, he doesn’t want to be with anyone else.

  He follows through on Emma’s request, flirting and touching and saying empty things. He looks at Emma—her legs are clenched together, her cheeks are flushed, she licks her lips—she’s enjoying this farce. He wants everything about Emma—her body, her heart, and her mind. This forced interaction is proving to him that she’s the only woman for him. Then, his view of her is obstructed by two very large, very drunk men. They begin to argue.

  “Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

  Emma should move out of the way of the inevitable altercation that’s about to take place, but her instincts are not quick enough. One of the burly men throws a punch. The other retaliates. Elbows fly and fists meet flesh and she feels a sharp thud against her chest. Emma’s caught in the fray. She tries to move, but she’s trapped between the bench and the brawling men. Emma’s filled with relief when she sees Eric coming toward her.