The Evening After by Monica McKayhan

Author:Monica McKayhan
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Kimani Press
Published: 2007-11-27T05:00:00+00:00

As I stood against that railing, breathing in the beauty of the sunset, the cool breeze from California’s night air brushing lightly across my face, I couldn’t think of any other place I’d rather be. I shivered as the night air brushed chill bumps across my arms. It was chilly, but I didn’t want to leave; couldn’t. It was too beautiful.

“You look cold,” he said, peeling his jacket off. “Here, take my jacket.”

He reached around me and placed it over my shoulders, his fingertips lingering around the collar and then brushing through my hair. Impulsively, my hands touched his chest; a chest that appeared to be chiseled from repetitions at the gym. As I caressed his broad chest, I never stopped to ask myself, “What are you doing?” I just continued. His eyes touched mine and sent electricity through my body. He drew closer. Close enough that the smell of his cologne teased my senses. His arms around my shoulders, he pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I opened my mouth to ask what we were doing in this beautiful place, wrapped in each other’s arms, but before the words tumbled out, his lips were on mine.

His pelvis pressed against my stomach, his strong hand palming the back of my head, his other hand pulling me closer. I knew I should’ve stopped, should’ve headed him off at the pass, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to, and I didn’t. But evidently the guilt of his lips against mine was too much for him. He pulled his lips away.

“I’m sorry…I just…you were just standing there looking so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.”

Why did he have to be sorry?

I turned away, looked at the view of the city. His arms wrapped around me from behind, I could feel his breath in my ear.

“I’m very attracted to you, but I don’t want to do anything that I’ll regret later.”

“I understand.”

“We’re both grieving right now, and I don’t want to minimize that.”

“Yes.”

“You ready to go?” he asked. “You have a big day planned for tomorrow.”

I’d planned a surprise visit to Ursula’s seven hundred grand minimansion in Westwood. I thought I’d just show up on her doorstep and introduce myself, until Nathan suggested that we sit down over breakfast the next morning and prepare a strategy. I agreed.

“Yes, let’s go.”

As we strolled to the car, the night air breezing through my hair, not a word was spoken. I wanted him, and it had nothing to do with grief. I knew at the moment his lips touched mine that I wanted more than just his body, I wanted all of him. And he wanted me, too. But wanting each other was wrong, morally and spiritually. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t God disapproving of such a notion? Surely he was. I wasn’t as committed a Christian as I should’ve been. In fact, many Sundays I spent reclined on my sofa in front of the television or curled up with a good book.

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