Unforgivable

me to drink, but why did he need it at all? Wasn’t he happy enough to be here with me? Did he really need to have an occasional drink to satisfy something within him? I was starting to boil over. I nibbled a few bites from my dinner, but I lost the need for food. What I needed was an emotional release before my thoughts consumed me. I put the plate back in the fridge and went to the one place in our home where I knew could take my mind off my fears for a little while; my music studio.

Mom had the studio built off the apartment by the pool cabana so when I wanted to really crank up the volume, I wouldn’t disturb the whole house, or the neighbors. It was heavily sound proofed, although it could still be heard from outside the studio, but just as a muffled noise that didn’t travel far. We had mirrored the room on all four sides and put in the ballet bars for dance practice for both Kimmy and myself, but I didn’t do ballet anymore. I just liked to dance and sing when I wanted the world to go away.

I went into the control room and started the computer. Sitting there behind the one way glass, I looked out on the dance floor as I waited for it to boot up. We had put the one way glass in the booth so the dance floor would stay seamless. I found that I danced differently if I thought no one was watching. My dance instructor once told me I needed to learn to dance with an audience because I was very good at impromptu expression dancing, but when I knew I was being watched I was much more subdued. He proved the point by having Mom film me one day from inside the booth when I thought I was alone. The difference was like watching two completely opposite people; even I was impressed when she played the tape back for me.

With the computer up and my favorite playlist starting, I went out to the dance floor and let myself unwind. I had several playlists that went with whatever mood I happened to be in, and right now my mood was mainstream rock and roll; Springsteen, Mellencamp, Loggins, Seger, Golden Earring, ZZ Top-I was ready for a workout.

I slipped off the over-shirt before the first song ended; sweat starting to roll off me as I pushed myself to my physical limit. It was as much fun as Ryan’s car had been today. I moved every limb and joint, stretched and flexed each muscle and swung hips and shoulders to the pulsing rhythm; I was having enough fun to forget, temporarily, the bottle of wine in the fridge and the anger that went with it.

‘Hurt So Good,’ by Jon Mellencamp had just ended and I grabbed my shirt from the ballet bar and wiped the sweat from my face and patiently waited for the next song to begin. My chest was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I knew the next song, from the first note, wasn’t from this playlist. It was a killer to dance to and I wondered who had added it to my list, but that was no reason not to enjoy ‘Temperature’ by Sean Paul. Three and a half minutes later I was dying for a drink of water, but I didn’t want to quit. I’d get my drink and cool off before everyone got home, right now was my time to burn up the floor. I wiped my face and listened for the next song.

Okay this was getting weird, another song began that I knew wasn’t on this playlist. I had heard it before, but didn’t recognize it immediately. The beat was so familiar. I started to move to the pulse, but when the first sounds came out of the singer’s mouth I knew right away someone was in my control room. Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’Roses wasn’t one of my songs; it was Micah’s.

I stormed to the control room and jerked the door open. Micah was seated there with a smile tearing at the corners of his mouth. “Baby, I never knew you could dance like-like that,” he said through a smoldering stare.

“Ah! You’re supposed to be at the restaurant not-not spying on me!”

“We were at the restaurant, but when I told your mom that you were here, she asked them to put our orders in takeout boxes and we brought it back. I was wondering where you were, but your mom figured it out and let me into the control room to-to surprise you, I guess.”

“She knows I don’t like people watching me dance!” I snapped, my anger getting hotter. I felt as if I could pitch a fit. “I will discuss this with Mother.”

“Annalisa,” he reserved using my whole name for times when he wanted my full attention, and it worked.

I blinked a couple times, letting myself cool down, “What?”

“What made you decide to dance?”

I wanted to yell at him about the bottle of wine. I wanted to know if he drank when he was nervous or upset, but I knew better than to fly off the handle with him.

“I-I just needed to…”

The smile faded from his face as he rose slowly from the control table and turned to walk out of the booth to the pool area.

“Micah,” I stopped him, reaching for his arm. He turned and I could see his eyes were filled with hurt and sadness. “What’s wrong? You don’t like the way I was dancing?” Something was upsetting him and I hoped he didn’t think I looked, well let’s just say less than innocent on the dance floor. When I danced alone, I didn’t feel any reason not to be provocative, but he had told me before that it was my innocence he found so alluring.

Now I could see the tears starting to fill his bottom lashes. I couldn’t let him go out the door. I took his face in my palms and softly kissed his lips, “Please, please tell me what’s bothering you-I’m sorry if I said you were spying on me.”

“Does being with Ryan make you want to dance this way?”

I was too stunned to speak at first, but then I realized he took my pent up anger on the dance floor to mean something else entirely. I kissed him again, slower this time and kept my face only inches from his as I told him no. “You crazy-nut,” I whispered, “I was angry. I use dancing for a release when I’m really, really upset.”

He gave a small sigh of relief, “Then baby, the only thing I’ve got to know is what are you pissed about? You were dancing your ass off out there.”

“Did you buy that bottle of wine after you left me with Ryan?”

His eyebrows went up, “You’re angry about a bottle of wine?”

“Do you drink when you’re upset? You know how I feel about alcohol.”

“Your mom bought it because last night I mentioned about having wine with dinner. She asked if I’d like to have a glass with her when I got home.”

“Oh.” That put a whole new light on things. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I thought… Forgive me, Micah, I was so angry. I thought maybe you had an issue you didn’t want to tell me about.”

“I’m afraid a hit man needs sobriety or he doesn’t last long. I used to drink casually, just one or two drinks a night on weeks when I didn’t have a job to do, but the only time I’ve been…” He stopped and the ‘I-don’t-want-to- tell-you,’ face appeared.

“We don’t have reasons to hide things, do we?”

“The only time I’ve been absolutely passed out drunk was about three months ago.”

“When you went home?”

“I was so sick over leaving you in the hospital, and I didn’t know when or if I’d see you again. I think that was one of the reasons why David decided he needed to put a stop to Robert before he found someone else to kill you; he’d never seen me like that.”

He tried to pull me into his arms, but I had to push away, “Micah, I’m gross. I’m covered in sweat from head to…”

The argument was moot; he evidently didn’t care about the sweat as he pulled me against his clean dress shirt. He smelled so wonderful, he felt fantastic as he wrapped me in those gloriously strong arms and kissed me slow and deep.

“Dance with me, Micah,” I whispered.

“I can’t dance like you, baby.”

“Slow dance with me,” I pleaded as I let my mouth trail from his ear to his neck, “please.”

“You know I can’t say no to you, baby. You pick the song and I’ll dance with you.”

I went to the computer and noticed that he had gone on Grooveshark to pick his songs. I typed in ‘I’ll Make Love to You’ and hit the play button, dimmed the studio lights, and took his hand and led him out onto the dance floor. He held me so close and began to gently sway as he pressed me to his body. I inhaled his scintillating scent and felt myself beginning to disappear into his warm chest. His hands slipped low on my hips as I arched my back and allowed my body to swing away from him, pushing my hips against his as I made a slow circle and returned against his chest. He was moaning to the beat of the music as our bodies seemed to become one pulsing rhythm. The song simply wasn’t long enough for me to enjoy so much pleasure.

“Oh, Micah,” I sighed softly as the song was ending, “I love you.”

Our lips met as my arms twined around his neck and my fingers went into those silky waves of brown hair. He