Content warning: sexual imagery toward the end of the chapter (not graphic)

October 2018
Bochum, Germany

My heart thuds against my ribs.

Frantically, I scour my brain for a single, solitary plausible explanation for why in the holy living hell I've accused him of obsessing over me. Apart from the truth, of course. A truth I wouldn't admit to Ian in a thousand years.

That I want him to think about me. 

At least as much as I think about him.

Come on, brain! Find an excuse somewhere!

We could always go with the highly convincing, "I was only kidding."

For heaven's sake, do better!

Right when I pull my thoughts together long enough to insist in no uncertain terms that I was simply teasing him, Ian beats me to the mark.

He says in a neutral yet husky tone, "And what if it's true?"

My heart leaps into my throat. No, it's impossible.

It's been over eight years!

And I left him!

"What if I can't stop thinking about you?" he asks, almost defiantly.

A small gasp escapes my lips. Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

"You left me," he adds in a firm tone, "not the other way around."

"Exactly! And that's precisely why--"

"Why what?" he demands, his harsh tone igniting my heart while chilling my bones. "Why I should hate you? Punish you? Seek revenge like a child?"

He renders me speechless.

"If so, I'm afraid I have no intention of fulfilling your wishes," he says. "I've resumed contact with you for one reason--and one reason alone."

"Why?" I ask, breathless.

"To win you back."

Silence falls between us.

"Or, more accurately perhaps," he says in a gentler tone, "to convince you to stay. Here in America. With me. Even though it repels you so much."

So that's why he got all offended!

"America has its problems," he admits. "Not even an entire lecture series could cover the myriad ways in which this country needs to grow the fuck up!"

My lips part in surprise. He hardly ever drops the F-bomb.

"But I live here. I've studied here. I've built a life here. Because unlike you, I don't have the linguistic talent to earn a graduate fellowship and move abroad."

"Ian, I'm sorry--"

"Don't apologize!" When I fall silent, he continues, "I want you to be happy, Sylvia. By all that I hold true, I want you to be euphoric. If I could storm over to Germany and give you everything I could offer you here, I would."

Every muscle tenses while I listen.

"If I could have saved you from the miserable marriage you accepted because you were so desperate to stay in Europe, I would."

A lump rises in my throat.

"If you had let me sweep you off your feet and give you a safe, comfortable, loving home, I would have done it."

Now the tears well in my eyes.

"I care about you, Sylvia. So fucking much. And I won't stop until my last breath," he concludes. "But it all means nothing if you love Europe more than me."

Silence falls like a shroud between us. I should think. I should take the time to--

But my heart screams what it wants despite my better judgment. "I don't!"

"What?" he breathes, awestruck. "You don't what, my muse?"

"I thought my future was here," I say with conviction. "I was so certain! But I was chasing after a dream, trying to capture a cloud with my bare hands."

"Your goal was admirable," he whispers. "Never be afraid of dreaming large, even if it doesn't turn out as you expect."

"I--I've worked so hard," I manage to choke out, praying that I don't cry. "I've fought so hard. I wanted to start a life here more than anything, and it all came crashing down."

"I understand," he says in a tender tone I don't deserve. "All too well."

"It's only brought me heartache and debt!" I shout, angry at myself. "I hate the fact that I left you. It felt wrong. I miss you, damn it. I miss us!"

He inhales a sharp breath.

"But going back?" I take deep breaths until the urge to cry finally stops. "Now? After everything I've done? After how much I've struggled? How can I? It's too late!"

"It's never too late."

My heart stutters. "It isn't?"

"I've waited for you." He pauses. "For over eight years I've waited for you."

"You did?"

"In my own way," he says warily. "By focusing on my career and shutting down any romance before it started."

"But--but what about Helena?" I ask. "Aren't you with Helena?"

"Not in the way you mean it." He sighs. "One day, I'll explain if you want to understand. Not today. It's too much."

I nod, even though he can't see me.

"But know this," he says with conviction. "My heart will always be yours."

"You haven't given up on me?"

"I might have given up on love," he says, "but I've never given up on you."

My heart thuds against my ribs. More than anything else in this moment, I want to lie in his arms. Snuggle close. Talk like we used to do. But we're so far apart.

After calming myself with a deep breath, I regain some of my composure. "I'm not sure we can simply pick up where we left off."

"That's understandable," he says in a calm tone. "I expected we would date online for a while first. It would be much easier than it would have been a decade ago."

My heart starts to relax. "You make a good point--I mean, arguably you could spend more time together online than some couples do in real life."

"Right?" He pauses. "I suppose the only potential problem might be the time difference. And, of course, the physical aspect of a relationship."

"What do you mean?"

"Would it be difficult for you to abstain from physical pleasure?"

I scoff. "Seriously? I haven't had sex in almost two years."

Silence falls.

"Really?" he breathes.

"Yeah." My heart shrivels into a little ball. "My marriage wasn't the best. Sex isn't often on my mind at the best of times, and at the worst of times--"

My throat clenches until it's difficult to speak.

"I'm sorry, Sylvia," he says in a kind tone. "No one should have to endure that pain."

"It wasn't my pain." I swallow the lump in my throat. "It was his."

Silence.

"That's another reason why I'm worried about dating," I admit. "Especially about marriage."

"Why...?" He exhales a deep breath. "Why are you afraid?"

"My lack of sexual appetite isn't fair to a man," I reply. "Men always want more than I do. Now I've learned from my mistakes, once and for all."

"Did you feel like I was forcing you to be physical when we were together in college?" he asks solemnly. "If so, I cannot begin to express how--"

"No, that was different."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "How so?"

"We were as close as two people can be. It was almost like we were--" I struggle to put my abstract thoughts into words. "--the same...soul. You're your own person, of course. But we were deeply connected in every way."

Silence.

"Intimacy with you felt like I was with myself," I say, hoping to clarify a bit better. "Not with a person separate from me. So I felt comfortable."

Silence.

"Does that make sense at all?" My heart thuds against my ribs. "Or do I sound completely off my rocker? Be honest."

Silence falls heavily upon us, confirming my worst fears.

"It makes perfect sense," he says in a gentle tone. "I hope I can help you to feel comfortable with me again." 

More silence.

"May I ask you a question, Sylvia?"

"Yes..."

"Is that part of the reason why you rejected my proposal?"

Now is the time for complete honesty.

"Back then it never crossed my mind how my...oddness might hurt you," I admit, "because I was foolish enough to think love would find a way."

"Of course it does. Always." 

"No, I was wrong." Swallowing hurts like razor blades. "It broke my marriage, Ian. I didn't give Marcus what he needed and he strayed. That's on me."

My throat clenches until I can't speak anymore.

"Listen, Sylvia, there's something you should know." He pauses. "I hope you won't think differently of me after I tell you."

Ice drips down my spine. "Okay...I won't."

"You might want to reserve that judgment until after I tell you."

After exhaling a heavy breath, I say, "Consider me mentally prepared for anything."

"You're the only one."

Wait, what?

"The only--what?"

He clicks his tongue but doesn't reply.

"Your only what?" I ask more insistently. "I don't understand."

"I haven't kissed or had full sexual congress with anyone other than you."

A small gasp escapes me. "You don't have to say that to impress me."

"It's the truth." His voice is so defensive it's almost harsh. "I've had other physical contact, and I've broken my strict family values more often than I can count, which is something of which I am not proud, but kissing and sexual intercourse have always remained strictly off-limits."

"Why?"

"Because that crosses a line of intimacy I'm not comfortable with."

"But what about Helena?"

"My point still stands." He sighs. "We have strict rules that we keep."

"Are you still together?"

"No, Helena and I ended our physical relationship the moment you entered my life again," he says in a firm tone. "She's dating someone else, and I cannot hold two women in my heart at the same time."

My breath hitches. Wait, does that mean...he's like...me?

"I hope you don't think less of me," he says in a wary tone. "Now that I've told you the truth. It isn't very manly of me, to the extent that matters."

"Of course I don't think less of you," I insist. "That would be a huge double standard."

"Since when has that stopped anyone?"

"Do you think I'm less feminine because I haven't had sex in a while?"

"That's different."

"Why in the holy hell is it different?" I ask, incredulous. "I'm a person. You're a person. Neither of us has had sex in years. We're both equal in the eyes of God, aren't we? Not to mention in the eyes of science?"

"Yes, that's true."

"There you go." I scoff. "I'm just--surprised."

"Why?"

"That a person can--" An awkward chuckle escapes. "For lack of a better term, keep it in their pants for that long."

"Not sure I precisely followed that rule."

"You know what I mean!"

"You kept it in your pants."

"Yes, but I don't feel any strong sexual desire." I pause. "Well, I do, but I'm more cerebral, I guess. Things happen in my imagination, and it entices me much more than reality."

"I remember," he says. "That's why we're so compatible with one another."

"We are?"

"Normally, I wouldn't have mentioned it at all," he says as though he regrets it. "But I did it to put your mind at rest. Our imagination is enough for me."

"Sex isn't a big deal to you either?"

"No," he admits. "It didn't bother me when you wanted to wait in college."

"Really?"

"Yes, I appreciated other things," he says. "Our hikes, our talks...our stories."

"Wow, I thought you listened just to make me happy."

"Didn't you notice my very visceral response?"

"Yes...but still."

"Did you find it difficult?" he asks with a hint of concern. "To wait?"

"Sometimes, I guess." My cheeks turn fiery. "When you really turned me on."

"I did?" he asks like he's whispering in my ear.

"Yeah," I say before admitting, "Sometimes you still do."

A different kind of silence. One full of potential. Full of dreams.

"When?" he says in a husky tone that sets a flurry of butterflies free.

"When you open your mind and heart to me," I whisper. "Or when you share that hidden side of yourself."

"How does it feel?"

"I want...more." A shallow breath. "I want to get closer."

"What do you imagine?" he asks, almost under his breath. "Tell me."

I know exactly what he means. What he wants. Another story.

After all this time, I crave it too.

"Are you sure you want this?"

I need to ask because when we do this, I'm fully in control.

"Hell yes," he says. "You have no idea. Don't hold back."

"But it's been years." I draw a ragged breath. "We haven't even--"

"We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

"What if I want this?" I ask him almost in defiance. "What if I want you more than I should? More than my faith allows? More than your values permit?"

"Tell me," Ian demands in a kind voice tinged with a hint of roughness. The one he gets whenever he's turned on. "Tell me what you imagine."

"How much?"

"Tell me everything, my little raven."

When he uses the nickname that has plagued my fantasies, it flips a switch in my brain. Before I realize it, we plunge into a world of dreams.

"Everything?"

"Every. Little. Detail," he insists. "Everything you want to share."

Oh, gosh! Here goes nothing—

"Okay...well, you stand near me while we're behind the desk in your office," I say, a bit shy and out of practice at first, and then more sultry as I start to relax. "In front of the bookcase. I'm staring at the rows of books on the shelves. Trailing over the spines with my fingertips."

"You've always loved books." A contented sigh. "What do we do?"

"Your hands cradle my hips," I reply. "And you're close to me. So close I can feel your breath fanning the sensitive skin near the crook of my neck. You nuzzle me gently. Though I pretend you have no effect on me, my cheeks are flushed. My breathing, shallow."

"Go on..."

"While your hands trail lightly over my sides, you whisper in my ear. Some abstract idea--some insight that sets my mind on fire."

"Keep going," he whispers.

"Your voice gets deeper, rougher like it's filled with gravel, but it's also tender." In my mind's eye, I picture us. "You slide your hands across my stomach and down, in a way that sends tingles down my spine."

He exhales sharply. 

"We're wearing formal clothes," I whisper. "You're in your business suit. I'm in a dress and modest heels. Maybe because we've attended a symposium where we see one another from across the room but cannot touch."

"Christ!" he breathes.

"Is it too much?"

"Not at all," he says. "Keep going."

"Now you can finally hold me, so you stand behind me, so very close, the way you've wanted to do all night long," I whisper. "Pressing up against me until I can feel how much you need me. You grasp my ponytail, tilting my head to the side like you used to do."

"I remember."

"All the while you pretend to keep your nerve even though you're burning up inside. So much that you whisper in my ear forbidden words."

"Tell me what I say."

"Forbidden thoughts," I breathe. "Ones that you would never dream of telling anyone else."

"How do we touch?"

"Your lips graze my skin," I whisper, "sending shivers through my whole body. Tingles along my skin. Nerves set on fire. Until you say the words."

"Tell me what you need, my little raven."

Good God, yes! That's what I need to hear...fuck!

Tingles race across my skin and erupt in my mind. Like all my nerves and synapses are firing at once. And my core throbs for him. "Oh, Ian..."

"That's it, my muse." His voice is pure seduction. "Show me how it feels."

That's when I come to my senses.

And that's when the guilt starts.

What the hell are you doing? You're not even divorced!

This is a mortal sin! This is no basis for a relationship!

Stop it! Right away!

"No..."

"No?" he asks, confused. "What's wrong?"

"I need to stop before I get even more carried away."

His tone is concerned. "Talk to me, Sylvia. What happened?"

"Sorry about that. My mistake." I exhale a heavy breath. "I shouldn't have done that. Not yet. It's too soon."

Silence falls between us once more. Leaden, this time. My whole body is trembling from a combination of nerves, adrenaline, and desire. More than anything, I want to continue. 

Are you nuts? You started talking to him five seconds ago!

"Whew, sorry!" I take a ragged breath to calm myself. "God help me, I almost did pick up where we left off."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asks warily.

"Yes, and I'm sorry."

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to pressure you."

"You didn't pressure me," I say, taking a deep breath. "I lost control--of myself, my thoughts, my feelings. I can't believe I almost--you know--like some floozy."

"Sylvia, don't call yourself--"

"I'm not single!" I insist. "Technically I'm still a married woman. God, I'm a mess. It's late and not thinking straight. I need to gather myself before I do something we'll regret."

"You're been separated from him for months, Sylvia!" he says. "Just wait! Let's talk--"

No, my emotions are all over the fucking place. 

I need to sort myself out first. Then talk.

"Give me time, Ian. We'll talk soon."

"Don't make any decisions tonight, promise?" he asks in a concerned tone.

"I promise...Good night."

He sighs. "Good night, my muse. Sleep well."

Before my emotions can tempt me to sin any further, I shut down the laptop.

___

Word count: 2,982
Total word count: 22,887/40,000

Achievement unlocked: 20,000 words!