Mirror of My Soul

of her magnolia tree on the side of the house.
“You’re going to cripple me,” he said against her lips, his voice urgent with desire.
“You’re a drug, Marguerite. I want to keep you near me every moment.”
She pulled back, more than a little breathless. “You won’t keep my attention that long. I’ll get bored of you any day now.”
“Ah. You’re considering the future. An improvement. You’ll find I have a
fascinating mind. I’m an exceptional conversationalist. And listener. You haven’t gotten bored of me yet, right?”
“Does tedious and irritating count?”
“Keep it up and I’ll kiss you again. I’ll rely solely on sex appeal to keep your interest.”
Hastily, she pulled her robe closed and retreated toward the front porch. She
jumped when he caught her hand, settling down when she realized he wanted to do only that.
Her tiger was still there, curled around the base of the pedestal table where Chloe had put the large bouquet. The door was open, the familiar sounds of preparations for the day’s first customers drifting out through the screen with the aromas of tea, mixing with the scent of Tyler’s flowers. It was an unexpected extension of the peace she’d felt in their yoga session. It wasn’t a hardship to be sitting shoulder to shoulder with Tyler on the front steps watching the early morning work traffic go by. As neighbors she knew headed to work, they raised a hand in greeting, eyes alive with curiosity at Tyler’s 34
Mirror of My Soul
presence. Marguerite turned so her knee was pressed at an angle to his, accepted his coffee cup and took a sip. “So you prefer coffee to my tea?”
“A question with a decidedly female word choice. In the category of ‘does this dress make me look fat’.” He leaned back, stretching his arm along the top step, which put her inside his arm span. He plucked at the sleeve of her robe, tugging it off her shoulder.
“Tyler Winterman.” She shrugged it back up, poked him in the side. “There are
children in this neighborhood.”
He gave her an unrepentant grin. “Tell me about your neighbors.”
She found herself doing so, responding to his questions about them, appreciating his quick mind, his grasp of her affection for her surroundings, his understanding of the unlikely place she’d set up her café. While they spoke, he casually passed the cup back and forth with her, reinforcing the tentative intimacy, the truce in tensions they were sharing. While on one hand she thought of it that way, another part of her wondered if he was trying to prove to her that this was the way a relationship would be. Passion mixed with the beginnings of friendship.
“Another question. There’s a locked armoire in your room. What’s in it?”
She slanted him a glance. “Tools of the trade. Floggers, plugs, vibrators. D/s magazine subscriptions. Why didn’t you just jimmy the lock and find out? It’s not like you don’t ignore or bypass any other locked door I put up.”
“I did. I just wanted to see if you’d lie to me.” He grinned, ducked her swat.
“I have a lot to do.” And think about. She said it reluctantly, handing him back the coffee cup. “Thank you for the flowers and the tiger.” Then, because she wouldn’t let herself be less than honest in the moment, she added, “And for your understanding. I appreciated this morning. Very much. And, even if it we don’t go any further, decide it needs go no further, I’ve gotten a lot from our interactions…these past few days.”
She could tell by his expression she was stumbling into dangerous waters but she didn’t know where else to go with this. Where it was going. Or how to direct it.
“Marguerite.” He took both of her hands. “I need you to listen to me. Are you
listening? Are you paying attention?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’m going to go home, take a shower. Do the things I’ve planned to do with my day, much as I’m sure you’re planning to do. But then I want you to think about last night. What was said, what I meant. And think about what you want.” He stood up, still holding one of her hands. “I’m going to try very hard to give you some space. To stay away while you think it through. I’m asking you to think it through. If you accept what we both understood well enough last night, then you come to me. Please come to me.”
It was obvious he was struggling with a desire to state his Will more forcefully but he stopped at that. Squeezing her hand, he leaned in and brushed her cheek with his 35
Joey W. Hill
lips. She held on to his touch, not realizing she was squeezing back until he began to pull away and had to wait for her to loosen her grip. Her cheeks pinkened.
“I’m taking that as a good sign.” He smiled a smile that did not quite reach his eyes which were warm and intent on her face, spreading that heat on her front the way the sun coming in through the side of the porch was spreading warmth on her back.
Reaching out, he touched his fingers to her throat, a sensual reminder. “No more of that. Remember. I mean it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Go away, Tyler. I’m not fragile ‘that way’. Remember?”
“No, you’re not. You’re strong, so strong you won’t bend. You’ll snap off like a brittle twig when you finally face up to something you can’t handle.”
“I can’t handle you,” she snarled. “And I’ve bent in twenty different directions trying to shake you off. I haven’t broken yet.”
She bit her lip, wishing she could have bitten off the words before she said them.
“Why do you think you have to handle me?” he asked after a quiet moment.
“Us. I can’t…” She sighed, shook her head. “Tyler, why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“You know why I can’t. You’re inside me. And I’m inside