Disengaged: A Dangerously Forbidden Love Affair by Jamie A Magee Page B

him once where he was raised, and he looked around the church, and simply said, “Here.” I asked him where his mother was. “Dead.” It was the same when I asked about his father. When I asked if he had brothers or sisters he flinched and grinned sadly, answering, “I’m sure.” But that was as deep as Slayton Winslow would go with his history.
    The silence in his answers had me believing he was one of Odin’s princes as Mrs. Jin had assumed. It made me afraid for him. I didn’t like knowing he was walking into Malcolm’s lair, working so closely with him. Or the look of envy or hate in some of the others that ran with him.
    Slayton knew my story, though, word for word. At times, mostly during one of my cold showers, I wished I’d held back, or maybe even exaggerated when he pulled each word out of me. He’d always seen me with rose-colored glasses, blameless. But hearing of my small town upbringing, my sweet grandmother, friends, even about some of my past boys, caused him to pull back from our physical side even more.
    He’d stare at me with desire, but kiss me innocently before he left. It was like we were fighting, but worse. We weren’t mad. Just surviving days that felt like years.
    Not surprisingly, Slayton had dropped me off tonight. The sun was still up, and the attic was blazing. I fell into my new routine and melted into one of the pews in the sanctuary, watching people walk in and out of the confessional booths. As the candles were lit, they’d flickered from a breeze I could not feel or see. If I let myself focus on such an easily overseen observation, I’d feel safe, watched over by the same force that made the purity of fire dance with delight.
    I would sit there for hours each day and see soul after soul, the emotion or devotion in their eyes, and I found peace.
    I didn’t feel like nothing bad was going to happen. I knew it would. I just felt sheltered; like I knew one way or the other I’d be better for it down the road. Wiser from my trials. I know it sounds foolish, but it was my truth. The one I battled with constantly. I was afraid of the pain I felt encroaching around every corner of my life. Believing there was a way through life after hell, was my survival.
    When the choir came in for practice, and I felt like one too many pairs of eyes were on me, I slipped into the school and stole a cold shower. Dreading going back to the attic, I cruised through the kitchen. I’d rather starve than steal food from a church, but I wasn’t above taking ice.
    I filled a plastic bag to its rim with ice, then went up to my space. The candles were the only safe light, low enough to not be questioned. I lit them then began stripping. I hesitated before I pushed down my satin panties, wondering what line I was crossing and if I could live with it once I did.
    The heat shattered my doubts. I was sure it would be cool enough later, before Slayton showed, for me to cover blatant temptation. Something he was a pro at ignoring.
    I lay on the sheets and reached down for the ice. Piece by piece I glided it from my forehead down my closed eyes, parted lips, to my neck...
    Long moments into my lazy, mindless action I grew more daring. The cubes each circled my nipples, hardening them. By the time I eased them down my stomach, they were nothing more than a pool of water resting in my navel.
    When a breeze blew through the window, I arched my back taking in the sensation of cool relief sliding across my glistening chest, gasping in a breath as it did.
    My eyes had fluttered closed, my fingertips had edged past my navel, and I was daring to forget where I was when I felt a commanding presence in the room and realized the sigh I’d just heard hadn’t come from my lips. A blush of red that I hoped the candlelight was hiding slid down my nude, wet body. I told myself a thousand times to be bold, to not let him see the timid girl I was before I finally opened my eyes.
    He was standing just behind the row of candles.