by Scott, Kylie
“Yes, Ed, I would. Absolutely.”
“Go on then, ask me your questions. I know you’ve got some. You’ve always got some.”
“How many am I going to be allowed to ask?”
He considers this for a moment. “Not sure. Hit me with your worst one first and let’s go from there.”
“All right.” If the man wants to push at the boundaries of complete disclosure, then I’m more than happy to oblige. “Is your dick pierced? Because there was this book today about genital piercings and Iris was going on about the majesty of a Prince Albert proudly displayed or something. I can’t remember her exact wording. But it got me wondering.”
“No.” He laughs. “I’m obviously okay with needles in most places. Just not down there.”
“I don’t blame you. Must hurt like hell.”
He shakes his head, grinning.
“What?”
“Nothing. What else have you got?”
“Um, how many times have you been in love?”
His expression clears. “A couple. You kind of fall in and out of love, but to find something more lasting . . . that’s different. Special.”
“Iris said marriage was finding someone whose shit you could tolerate long-term. Someone you could imagine wanting to see and talk to every day for the rest of your life.”
“She’s not wrong.”
“And you honestly thought you could do that with me? I mean, it just seems like from what you’ve said . . .”
He rolls onto his side, studying me. “Clem, you weren’t as bad as I’ve been making it sound. I probably haven’t been as positive about how you used to be as I could have. When everything goes to hell you tend to focus on the worst. Guess it’s a method of self-preservation. A way to convince yourself you’re better off without the other person in your life.”
“That makes sense.”
“But lots of people liked you. Don’t think you were a bad person or something. After all, everyone has their faults.” He takes a moment, like he’s thinking things over. Choosing his words with care. “I guess you were less sure of yourself before. Now if you’re thrown by something, you kind of just barrel on regardless most of the time. Things don’t seem to worry you as much.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Not saying you don’t get worried about things, but they don’t weigh you down in the same way.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
He shrugs. “It’s just you. And you used to be hopeless at admitting when you’d gotten something wrong. Stubborn as all hell. Forget about getting an apology out of you. Now you can’t seem to stop apologizing.”
“Wait. How does being a neurotic wreck fit with being a stubborn jerk?”
“I never said you were a neurotic wreck. Just that you tended to worry over things.”
“And then never admit I was wrong.”
“Basically.”
Holy hell. “I must have been amazing in the sack.”
Ed bursts out laughing.
“Quick, tell me something terrible about you. I need it.”
“I was a shit boyfriend,” he says, quieting once again. “Because something was obviously going on with you and had been for a while and I completely fucking missed it. Maybe if I hadn’t been so busy with work, if I’d taken more time for us, things wouldn’t have gone the way they did. We might have still been together. And you wouldn’t have been out alone that night and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Who knows?”
“You can’t take all of that on yourself.”
He says nothing.
“Can I make a comment without it being weird?”
“Considering the dick piercing question, I’m not actually sure it’s possible for things to get any weirder.”
I smile a little. “Right. Well, I just wanted to say this is nice, us talking.”
“Yes, it is.” He exhales. “Did Tessa give you a hard time?”
“It was fine. I handled it. She cares about you.”
“We’ve been friends a long time. You two used to get along,” he says. “It’d be nice if you could get back to something like that. Having your old friends back might be helpful.”
I wince ever so slightly. Tessa is more likely to throttle me than want to swap pedicures anytime soon. But I’ll let the man dream.
“I’ve started making some new friends. The other day, the guy from the café across the road from the bookstore asked me if I wanted to go to a movie sometime.”
His gaze narrows. “What’d you say?”
“Told him I’d think about it. But I’m not sure that would be a good idea for me just yet. Unless he meant as just a friendship thing. That could be okay.”
“Always good to have friends,” he says.
“I agree. But actual relationships seem complicated and I’m confused enough the bulk of the time. As well as everything else, I lost about a decade’s worth of knowledge about how dating works.”
“Yeah, I guess you did. How’s your reading going?”
“Good, I, ah . . . this one I’m into now is Ice Blue by Anne Stuart. Iris said it’s a romantic suspense classic. Not to be missed.”
“You’ll have to let me know how that goes.”
It doesn’t escape me how our conversation has been steered toward safer subjects. Which is fine. We’re talking like friends. Or people with a complicated past who might become friends. It’s nice. Yet his hand lies on the mattress, close to me, though in all the ways that matter, still out of reach. His fingers are bigger than mine, his hand larger. My jealousy at previous me reaches an all-time high. She could have just touched him whenever she wanted. The memories she must have had. Lucky bitch.
“What are you thinking about now?” he asks, voice quiet. The night is so still. The whole world contained in this one room.
“You really care what I think about that much?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do.”
It feels both sweet and sour, this statement. Both painful and pleasing.
“I like how I ask and you tell me. No guessing. No wondering if I’m missing something again,” he says. “You just let me know where you’re at. It’s good. Very good.”
“Honestly, I think you short circuit my brain.”
“The feeling’s entirely mutual.”
My gaze jumps from his fingers to his face. “Really?”
His small smile seems almost uncomfortable. A little grieved, perhaps. “Why do you think you’re here in my apartment? In my bed wearing my shirt?”
“Well, I kind of just took the shirt without asking. As for the rest, because you were worried about my safety and then Leif annoyed you by flirting with me?” I suggest. “Though nothing would have happened if we’d shared the futon. Things are complicated enough and while he seems like a nice guy, there’s nothing there.”
“No?” He licks his top lip and everything low inside me squeezes tight. An enjoyable sensation. And not a particularly new one when it comes to him. The man is beautiful, inside and out. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Mm.”
“But you’re back in my life for a reason, Clem. Because on one level or another, I want you here. It’d be stupid of me to pretend otherwise.” The warmth in his voice is dizzying. The closeness of him intoxicating. Perhaps my reaction to him is part Pavlovian. A response from previous me and the no doubt disgusting carnal things she did with him. Just that easily, I’m horribly jealous of her all over again. Or maybe when it came to Ed the feelings never stopped.
“You’re staring at my mouth,” he says.
I put my fingers up to my own lips. “I’ve never been kissed. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.” His gaze drops to my lips. “Tell me more.”
“Well, what worries me is, what do you do with the nose?”
He blinks. “With the what?”
“The nose. How do you decide who goe
s which way so no one’s nose gets broken?”
“If you’re going in so hard that someone’s liable to break something, you’re probably doing it wrong. Especially given your medical condition. No one should require a crash helmet to kiss.”
“And what about the breathing? Do you hold your breath or mouth breathe through it or what?”
“I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought,” he says. “You are aware that you kind of babble now when you’re nervous?”
“Yeah, I know. And then there’s the whole tongue or no tongue thing to consider.”
“Okay, Clem. Now you’ve definitely given this too much thought. If there isn’t at least a little spontaneity to the act, you’re pretty much ruining the whole thing. Have you discussed your kissing theories with anyone else?”
I think it over. “No.”
“Good. I don’t want you going out with that other guy from the café, either.”
“Well, what about the woman at my restaurant?”
“It’s not your restaurant; it’s our restaurant, and I’m not seeing her anymore,” he says. “Honestly, I don’t have a clue what this thing is between us or if it has a future. Or just a past. But my suggestion is that we spend some more time together and see how things go.”
I take a deep breath. “You’ve thought this through.”
“Tonight, when I was walking around. Wondering why I was so angry. Wondering why I’d been so reluctant to tell you anything about what happened. The truth is, my feelings for you are all fucked up. I can’t make sense of them . . . not yet. But I realized, if I’d come home and you weren’t here, I would have gone looking for you. Okay?”
“Uh, okay.”
“Good.” He rises up on one elbow, shifting across the bed until he’s lying beside me. Right flush up against my body. Him against me. “Now for the kissing.”
I can hardly wait.
Hands cup my face and his mouth is pressing against mine. There’s no time to worry about noses or breathing or any of that nonsense. So he was right about that. My mind is elsewhere, on much more important things. His tongue slides against the seam of my lips and I open my mouth on a gasp. It feels nice. All of it, everything he’s doing. It’s hot and wet and perfect. Him biting me. The way he rubs his tongue against mine. He kisses me hard and deep, thumbs stroking the sides of my face. Our bodies are pressed against one another and his hands slide into my hair. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said the man owned me. And I owned him. We fit together so well.
He doesn’t stop until my lips are swollen and my head is spinning. The pad of his thumb slides over my bottom lip. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. Don’t even get me started on the heat coming off of him. The way he’s lying half on top of me, pressing me down into the mattress.
“What do you think?” he asks, voice about a dozen times deeper and rougher than normal. His hands are tangled in my hair. The knowledge that this man wants me has my toes curling.
“About kissing or spending time together?”
“Both.”
“Your eyes are so pretty.” I smile. He’s dazzling, really. But maybe I’ve said enough for one evening.
He smiles back. “Kissing, yes or no?”
“Ah, yeah. Nice.”
“Nice?” he asks, sneering ever so slightly.
“You don’t like nice?”
“It’s your first kiss. I wanted to do a little better than nice.”
“It was very pleasant. I think I’d like to do it again sometime. If you’re amenable, of course.”
“You’re killing me.” He laughs. “What about the spending time together part?”
“Well, Ed, I would be delighted to hang out with you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
My heart is still beating so hard. It must be his nearness, the heat in his eyes. And something has definitely happened in his pants. I can feel it pressing against my lower stomach. Perhaps if I ask nicely, he’ll let me see.
“We’ll just take it slow,” he says. “No need to rush anything. Let’s see what happens.”
“We’re not going to—”
“Not tonight.”
“Oh, okay.” I don’t bother to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
He kisses my forehead and reaches out to turn off the bedside lamp, before returning to his far distant remote side of the mattress. So it’s not really all that far, it just feels like it. My lips still tingle along with everything else. It was a pretty nice kiss.
“Night, Clem.”
“Night.”
I’d thought maybe we might cuddle or something, but perhaps guys with boners don’t want to cuddle. They either want sex or space. I would have been fine with sex. Though taking it slow does make sense. Now it’s some stupid hour of the morning and I’m wide awake overthinking our relationship. If it’s even a relationship yet. I don’t know.
“Stop thinking,” he says. “Go to sleep, baby.”
Baby. He called me baby. No one’s ever called new me something like that before. An affectionate pet name or whatever. Talk about an extreme case of feeling warm and fuzzy. Remarkably enough, after a little while, I do in fact sleep.
Chapter Ten
The next morning goes well. Even despite the bed being empty again when I wake up. Leif informs me Ed’s taken Gordon for a run. So I get showered and dressed for work. Along with a little makeup, I attempt to style my choppy hair today. I’ll never be Tessa levels of glamour. But I can rock my own thing. The need to hide and watch as opposed to partaking of life isn’t as overwhelming as it used to be when I first left the hospital. Maybe I’m getting braver or surer of myself in some way. I don’t know.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Ed says as I approach him in the kitchen upon his return.
“Well, I was wondering if you were going to kiss me again. But then I was thinking that you looked especially handsome all covered in sweat and you smell really good. Before that, I think I was just enjoying the smell of the coffee and trying to remember what books I need to take back to the shop. That’s pretty much it.”
“Okay.”
My lips still tingle along with everything else. Or maybe they started tingling again at the sight of him. Gordon leans his butt against my leg, does some scratching, stuff like that. The love life and verbal repartee of myself and his owner means nothing to the very good boy.
“See, not everything passing through my head is worth hearing about,” I say, as he hands me a cup of coffee.
“I wouldn’t say that. First bit in particular was pretty interesting.”
“So what’s on your mind?”
“Apart from kissing you?”
“I wouldn’t want to distract you from that.” I smile, taking a sip. “Though on the other hand, it was my thought first and not yours, leading me to believe that you mustn’t want to kiss me all that badly. To be honest, that’s kind of disappointing, Ed.”
A sound of amusement from Leif over on the couch. “I knew you two would get back together.”
“Did you really?” I ask with a grin.
In response, he blows me a kiss.
“Stop flirting with her, dammit,” says Ed. “And we’re taking it slow.”
Leif sadly shakes his head. “You always did have middle child complex.”
“He’s perfectly fine the way he is, and we are taking it slow. That’s true,” I dutifully back Ed up because togetherness or whatever it is we’re doing.
“Whatever you say,” answers Leif. “Why was Gordon whining at my bedroom door all last night?”
I don’t even blink. “Because he missed you while you were gone.”
“Clem was letting him sleep on the futon with her,” says Ed. “Despite me asking her not to.”
“Ah.” Leif nods.
My outrage is mostly feigned. “You have no proof.”
“I don’t need proof, baby. I know you when it comes to that dog.”
“Thank you for the coffee.”
“Nice change of subject, and no fair about the kiss.”
“How so?”
“In my defense, I had plans.”
“Such as?”
“Getting you caffeinated, for starters,” he says.
“A noble quest, of which I fully approve.”
“Then having a shower so I don’t drip sweat all over you.”
I frown slightly. “I said I don’t mind that.”
“Ah, but you used to. Now I know that you don’t.” Bless him, the man doesn’t hesitate. First pressing his warm lips to my cheek, my jaw, even my chin. The salty, musky scent of sweat and man is a wonderful high.
“Ed, that’s not my mouth. Do you need a map?”
“You’re so impatient,” he mumbles, bussing my cheek with his nose. The feel of his breath on my face, of him being right there . . . holy shit. Privacy matters not in the least. His lips trail down my neck, tongue sliding against my skin. It’s like lights turning on inside of me. A hypersensitivity only he inspires. Teeth press into the lobe of my ear, teasing. Then he sucks on a particularly amazing section of skin between my neck and shoulder. Sweet baby Jesus. My mind blanks entirely, head falling to the side. Little shocks of electricity zap up my spine.
“That doesn’t look slow,” comments Leif from the couch.
Ed nibbles on my jawline before placing gentle kisses either side of my mouth. The man is a goddamn tease. “As much as it pains me to admit, he’s right.”
My eyes open slowly, reluctantly. “I’m beginning to think slow is highly overrated.”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure slow is going to kill me.” He takes a breath, pulls back to look me in the eye. “But, Clem, I still think it’s the only way to do this.”
I don’t like it, but he’s probably right. Also, he’s the one who remembers us hitting the wall and having to deal with heartbreak et cetera. However, it sucks to be the one who gets to stand by, hoping he doesn’t change his mind and pull the rug out from underneath my feet. I suppose I should want to go slow as well. My rational mind knows perfectly well how badly we struck disaster before. Which should be a warning for what looms ahead. But without the actual memories of the breakdown, with all its pain and misery, I just can’t feel it on an emotional level. My heart and body just want to rush forward into his arms and into his bed. Really into his bed, I mean, not just me perched on the opposite side throughout the night, like we’ve been doing.
