Title: Unfaithful

Author: Alicia08

Author’s note: BIG sorry for the long duration between chapter 7 and 8. My muse went missing on me. I have a feeling it ran off to stalk and lust over Alexis Denisof, but I’m not too sure. It’s still missing by the way. I borrowed a friend’s muse for the weekend.

Author’s note 2: Um, Tutu... don’t try and walk away and pretend you didn’t hear me call your name. Now listen Missy, this may be all sorts of hypocritical on my part but I don’t care. WHERE IS CHAPTER 4 OF “My Mother’s Affair”. Huh? Huh? Stop the didly whadle and get the crackalachin!! (

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

CHAPTER 8

Deep hazel eyes hid behind lashes as they watched the man who had so recently left the bed stroll back into the bedroom wearing only a towel, slung low on his hips. He’d just finished taking a shower and was now rubbing his hair dry with another towel, frowning, lost in thought. He swung around, and Buffy feigned sleep. She could hear his footsteps as he approached the bed in which she lay. The bed shifted slightly as his weight rested on it.

A touch to the delicate curve of her cheek, tracing, caressing, fingertips soft to the touch. Goosebumps rising, prickling to life, but she kept her eyes closed and did not stir. She feigned sleep.

She lay on the bed, quiet, silent, his hands framing and caressing every curve of her face. The sensation overwhelmed her and she stirred, let out a small yawn, and turned from him, nestling her head deep into the pillow.

“Buffy”, she heard him whisper

She feigned sleep

“Are you awake”, he tried again

She feigned sleep. Why? Guilt partly, fear mostly. She slept with this man, this man that pulled at her every being, this man that she yearned for uncontrollably. This man that she lost herself in. This man that made her feel like no other. This man that wasn’t Riley.

Her guilt ravished her and a tear made its way, streaming, leisurely down the side of her cheek, dropping without a sound soaking into the pillowcase below. Buffy felt the weight lift from the bed, heard a draw open, then a noise... pencil to paper. Footsteps closer and closer and closer. The feel of soft lips to her cheek, footsteps again, farther and farther until she heard the sound of the door open and close and then silence.

She waited and when she was certain she was alone, she sat up in bed roving her fingers through her uncomely hair. Sighing, she looked to the dresser draw, reached out and picked up the paper that lay there. She read, and sighed again, crumpling it in her hands and throwing it in the waste basket at the foot of the bed.

*****************

Buffy spent the afternoon in her room typing away on her laptop. Willow albeit her disappointment had took off with Oz, leaving her lonesome. A smile spread across her face, remembering the excitement in her friend’s voice, at Oz’s invitation to join him at a business lunching. It was obvious that her friend was smitten.

She sighed and thoughts of Angel came rushing towards her. Shaking her head to rid herself of thoughts of him, she rose from her chair and started to pace the length of the room. She stopped at the waste basket, looked at it and began to pace again. Who’d of thought that a simple ‘Call me’ scribbled down on paper with a telephone number affixed would rouse her. Throughout the day, the phone on her night stand haunted her often, calling out her name...

BUUUFFFYY!!

... but she resisted and kept on typing away on her laptop trying to keep herself occupied. She had planned on making a trip to the hospital again to see what information she could get out of the midwife that delivered her, but learning from her previous mistake, she’d called up first and learned that Valrose wouldn’t be in today. Buffy had once again prodded the receptionist for an address, but came away empty handed. As she paced, her stomach began to growl, and she realized that she wasn’t hungry enough to want to eat again, so instead, decided to go for a quiet stroll around town.

The town to her surprise wasn’t any different from certain neighborhoods in New York.

As she wandered around, she discovered, tucked away down a narrow alley, a small bakery. Her stomach still grumbled, but her mind insisted that she was not hungry. She paused to linger for a moment outside. She could see from the window display that the bakery had an assortment of goodies. Licking her lips, she listened to her growling stomach and entered.

************

The smell of newly mown lawns and fresh air mingled with those from the chocolate glazed aroma of the bakery, strong, and sweet, a definite improvement from the hot petrol, fume-laden air of New York City. She took a deep breath, took the last step down from the bakery and began her journey back to the hotel, clutched in her hand a brown bag filled with a mixture of cookies and brownies of all varieties.

The sound of a car horn behind her as she crossed the street made her turn and look over her shoulder startled. She didn’t recognize the Ford truck that startled her, but frowned slightly when, it crept her way, finally stopping as it drew level with her. The window slowly made its way down, and Angel’s familiar voice called out.

“Want a lift. Tell me where you’re going and I can drop you off”

“No thank you,” Buffy started walking. She knew her tone had been polite, but she couldn’t help feel that her refusal had been a bit curt, and even aggressive, and she felt herself flush guiltily.

Angel’s truck pulled up blocking her path. An eyebrow rose, his dark eyes hardening just a fraction as he studied her.

Buffy waited tensely for him to abide by her refusal, and drive off, but instead he said softly. “Buffy. Get in. You can curse me till Kingdom come on the drive to wherever it is you want to go.”

She wanted to refuse. Her plan was to refuse, but damn her awareness. She became conscious of the fact that she was being watched, and that made her feel uneasy. This was a small town and people liked to gossip. The last thing she wanted to do was create a scene and become the gossip of the town, linking her romantically with Angel, so she stepped forward and hopped up into the truck.

“How are you,” Angel asked, glancing her way.

Buffy felt a stab of resentment at his words. How the hell do you think I am. I slept with a guy I hardly know because I couldn’t resist the carnal attraction and pleasure he provoked. I betrayed my boyfriend, and I’m a terrible person for doing so.

“I’m fine.”

Damn him to hell. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Why can’t he just be like most guys, and disregard his one night stand. She did, or at least she was in the process of trying. She wanted to forget him, forget that one night of delight and burning passion they had shared had ever happened.

But it did happen she acknowledged shakily, as her eyes were drawn despite herself to the hard length of Angel’s thigh as he changed gear and the truck moved on down the road.

He was dressed formerly, in a similar sort of suit he had worn the first time she met him at the house. He’d probably just finished with a client she thought.

Her eyes wandered to his hands resting on the staring wheel, and to her annoyance, remembered the sensation they had caused last night while they caressed her skin. Her heart pumped madly against her chest, and her face flushed, as she felt the intensive response of her body to those memories. She could feel her nipples harden as they brushed against the cool of the fabric to the blouse she wore. There was an ache deep inside her, and she closed her eyes, desperately trying to subdue it.

“Where to?” he asked, his eyes focused on the road

“The Inn,” she replied simply, a feeling of mingled anguish and need alien to anything she had previously known, erupting inside her.

The windows had been rolled up, and were tinted. If Angel decided to stop the truck now, and take her in his arms.... Buffy felt a shudder of reaction grip her. It was like being torn apart by conflicting needs. She wanted to escape this hold he had on her. To run away and pretend as if she’d never known him; to find her mother and cuddle up in a secure bubble which excluded the rest of the world, yet at the same time, wanted savagely to reach out and touch him, and even more so, wanted him to touch her back.

The car slowed down, and for a moment she thought he might just put her thoughts into action. She looked at him; her eyes full of want and need, mingled with deep guilt. The glimmer in her eyes dimmed by vulnerability. She heard him clear his throat and then swear beneath it.

“Buffy,” His voice was rough and scratchy. He reached out to touch her and she suddenly realized that the truck had only slowed to turn into the Preston Inn’s parking lot. Sighing of relief and thanking the ‘powers that be’, Buffy pushed open the door to the truck and hurriedly clambered out.

“Buffy! We need to talk”

She heard him call her name, but refuse to turn around to acknowledge it. If she did, she was liable to break down. Instead she quickened her pace, needing to reach the safety of the Inn. Her heart was pounding furiously against her chest, but Angel made no attempt to follow her.

She’d manage to calm herself, as she waited at the front desk, the desk clerk looking at her strangely.

“Miss, is there something wrong. Can I help you with anything?” the female clerk asked her.

Flustered, Buffy looked to the clerk, smiled without saying a word and headed straight to the elevator.

Buffy collapsed on her bed once she reached the quiet and calm of her hotel room. Her conscious mind fluctuated with thoughts and questions. Why did she run from Angel like that? Why was her heart beating so fast? Why did she want him to follow her? Why was she disappointed when he didn’t? Why was she tempted to say ‘screw it... screw Riley, screw her father, screw everyone’ and do what she wanted?

To Be Continued...

Title Page
Author's Page