Steamy short stories

I stand divided. Part 1

I was in such a rush to get out of the car and get away from him that I nearly tripped over my own feet and stumbled like a baby deer taking it's first attempt at standing on four wobbly feet.

My body shifted from left to right before the sheer adrenaline coursing through my veins gave me the strength to regain my balance and storm up to the already open front door. The front door that he held open like some old fashioned gentleman in the movies.

Avoiding all eye contact I ignored the tingles of static electricity that passed between us when my arm brushed across his firm chest. I practically jogged up to our bedroom and slammed the door shut, sliding the bolt lock across before he could harass me any further than he already had tonight.

Despite my silent prayers the wrapping of scarred knuckles knocked on the bedroom door becoming slightly firmer, more persistent with every set.

Unable to handle the knowledge that he was just outside the door and so close that of I was in a better mood and focused alittle bit I would probably be able to smell the scent of him that usually sent me into a frenzy of lust and adoration.

Only right now all I felt was pain,disappointment and so much confusion.

He always smelt like the kind of fresh rain that always led to a rainbow combined with a dark delicious dark chocolate and a hint of manly spice that made my mouth water no matter how many times I smelt him.

No matter how many times I tasted him on my tongue I could never get enough of him and yet now as I ripped my clothes off and chucked them in a heap on the floor I hated everything about him.

I looked at the mess around our room. My shoes were separated one rested against the chest of drawers where he kept his clothing and the other sat slap bang in the middle of the room as if it had dropped from the ceiling. Then my clothes were screwed up in balls as they fell from my body in a untidy state that would drive him alittle bit crazy.

Good I thought to myself. It's the least you deserve you damned arsehole.

Once the shower was steaming hot I got under the heavy flow of water in the hopes that it would not only cleanse my body but cleanse the memories of this evening and the aching in my chest that had settled like a rock calcifying around my heart.

It was only under the pressure of the shower that I allowed the tears to flow freely for I would not give that to him. He had hurt me, shocked me to the core and cut a knife into my chest but I would not give him my tears too.

Eventually the water ran cool and I turned it off and wrapped myself in a huge white fluffy towel whilst drying off my shoulder length blonde hair with another one. Normally I'd blow dry and straighten it regardless of the time or occasion but tonight I didn't give a shit what it looked like so I tied it into a loose bun on top of my head, brushed my teeth and switched the towel for my pastel pink robe, tying it snuggly around my waist before returning to the bedroom.

As soon as my feet padded softly across the carpeted floor I heard a lighter set of knocks at the door followed by a deep sigh as someone breathed out my name in an anguished tone which cracked the fragile walls I'd built earlier tonight.

"Layla...I know you're in there. Please open the door" that gentle velvet like tone pleads through the door and I can practically feel his body heat through the white stained wood.

"I can't face him Nick, not when he is acting like that" I shook my head despite the barrier between us. The irony not lost on me that there is a barrier between us when he is the barrier between me and him.

Luca DeMarco the love of my life, the keeper of my heart and soul. Quite possible the destroyer of every fibre of my being.

"I won't let him hurt you Lay.. I swear to you"