Stronger by Misty Provencher Page A

quaking fingers.  "I only came to talk, Lyddle.  What's got you in such a big hurry?"
    "I broke my mirror.  I have to go order another one."
    "That explains your attire, doesn't it." He reaches for my hand, giving it a tug, so I follow him to the couch.
    "Come," he says, all velvet and steel.  "It won't take long, I promise."
    He paid me.  I tell myself that's the only reason why I sit on the couch beside him.  Des reclines, his arm spread across the back, his fingertips touching my hair.  He glances around the apartment again.
    "This is such a small place," he says.
    "That's what happens when your husband leaves you," I tell him.  "You don't need so much space."
    "Oh, now," Des drawls, straightening his wrist cuff.  "That smart mouth again, Lyddle?  Is that how this is going to go?"
    "What did you come for?"
    "First things first," he says. "I give you more than enough money to afford a nicer place than this, don't I?"
    "This is good enough."
    "Well, that's always been the problem, hasn't it, Lyddle?  Haven't you learned anything from me?  You should never be happy with good enough .  Move closer to me."
    I scoot over, until I'm next to him.  His fingers play in my hair, massage my skin.  He leans in and places a warm kiss at the base of neck.  He knows what melts me.  His lips on my body have had a track record of erasing all the crappy things he's done to me.
    "Damn it, Des," I moan.  "This is wrong.  It's got to stop."
    He just laughs, blowing his warm breath over my skin.  "You're still my wife.  And a wife is never supposed to refuse her husband."
    "Tell that to your other wife." I say.  His grip tightens on my arm as he drags me even closer.  I fall into the dip between the cushions.
    "Don't be jealous, Lyddle.  You know I care for Claudia, for different reasons.  I don't know why you constantly want to give me such a hard time about this.  You're the one that has always had my heart.  Why aren't you happy?  Do you want to go back to being poor?  I can finally give you whatever you want now..."
    "I never wanted anything but you ."
    He softens at that.  "I'm right here, Lyddle.  You've got me.  You've always got me."  He pushes back my hair and lays his lips tenderly to my neck again, tracing the skin to my collar bone with the moist warmth of his mouth.  "I miss you so much.  This arrangement isn't forever.  I promise."
    "It's been three years," I say, but I am already losing ground, melting away beneath the heat of his tongue.  Damn him.  I already know I'll lie awake tonight, reviewing whatever happens in the next hour or so, hating myself for taking Claudia's money, hating him for giving it. 
    His hands skim over the front of me, tracing the Bermuda triangle beneath my clothes.  That's what he always called it, since he said he loses his mind every time he touches it. 
    The stroking of his fingertips temporarily blurs the shame.  His tongue moves against mine and I drink it in, nixing any further conversation.
    "Now," he murmurs when I come up for air.  "I want to see how you're dressed.  Stand up and let me look."
    I'm stupid to do it, stupid to keep on letting this happen.  He's cheating on both me and his fake wife in one shot and I'm helping him do it by never telling, never stopping him. 
    But I have a stubborn thought that I use to justify it all.  He's still married to me.  I still have feelings for him that I keep shored up, bulging inside my heart, as my desire roars behind them.  This was the first man I ever loved, the first man I ever made love to.  His presence still makes me feel like things will be okay, even though he's the one who has made everything go wrong.  
    "I said, I want to see how you're dressed, Lyddle.  Are you wearing the right panties?  Will you let me see?"  he whispers. 
    He is my tragedy.  My sick, sick addiction.
    I turn away and bend over in front of him, offering him the length of my thigh, the opening of my skirt. 
    "Yes," I