by T Gephart
“Okay.” I nodded, not really okay with it but not exactly sure how to argue with his reason considering I didn’t know what it was. “Why?”
“Because I want to fuck you, Maya.”
Jesus.
Christ.
His voice was so raw the words stroked me like he was already inside of me.
“O-kay.” I nodded a second time, my body pulsing, ready to strip down and have sex right there on the floor.
His head dropped, what little I could see of his face lost in the darkness as he pulled away. “No, not okay. Not tonight.”
“Don’t you think I should get a say?” I started to protest, wondering why the hell not. “In case you were wondering, I was on board with that.”
He chuckled, his arm reaching out to my arm and ghosting his fingers against my skin. “Trust me, you don’t want it. Not tonight.”
Excuse me? I didn’t want it? Short of me stripping down and offering myself to him like a fucking—literally—canapé, I didn’t think I could be more clear on my wants.
I wanted him.
Biblically.
“Um, trust me. I can tell you that I definitely want it. Especially tonight.”
Tired of not being able to read his face, I fumbled along the wall for the light switch, the overhead globes illuminating the room so I could survey the carnage.
His eyes were darker, the pool-water blue consumed by inky irises as they stared at me.
They didn’t look like they believed him either.
“You’ve been drinking.” His hand fisted at his side, keeping himself contained as he stepped away.
None of it made sense to me.
He’d said with his body and his words that he wanted me.
I had done the same.
We were two consenting adults, neither of us in relationships. And we knew each other, it wasn’t like I’d picked him up at a bar and brought some stranger home with me.
“A few drinks, I’m not even close to drunk,” I argued. Was I begging? Probably. Did I care? Not really. “I’ll take a sobriety test. Look, watch me.” My finger extended to the tip of my nose, and then out to my side.
His eyes followed my finger, not impressed with my coordination. “Come on, Maya. You know those tests are bullshit. Which is why a drinking related charge needs substantiation with a blood test.”
“Ugh, this isn’t a trial. And I’m telling you I’m good.” I didn’t get what the problem was? Was he worried I’d later accuse him of taking advantage of me? There was a better chance that I’d call my landlord and ask her to make out than I’d ever do that.
He raked his hair in frustration. “No. Not now.”
“Wait, this isn’t like some weird bet with yourself just to see if you could, right?” I waited for his answer, mentally calculating the distance between us and the kitchen.
While I probably—most likely, but wasn’t one hundred percent sure—wouldn’t castrate him with that fancy serrated bread knife I’d recently bought, the thought had crossed my mind. Because kissing me, and working me up into a frenzy for the sole reason to prove that he could have me if he wanted, was not something I would easily forgive.
He cursed under his breath, shaking his head as he took a long, heavy breath and then blew it out. “This isn’t some bet. With myself or anyone else. I should go, I’ll see you on Monday.”
If his annoyance was sexual frustration, then he only had himself to blame. After all, he still hadn’t given me a good reason why we weren’t getting naked, other than it wasn’t going to happen.
“Monday?” I asked, both confused and disappointed that I wouldn’t see him on the weekend.
“Yeah, when I drive you to work.”
Work.
And no doubt the return to driving, talking and eating like we had the entire week before.
He was trying to reinstate the old terms.
“Don’t go.” I grabbed his hand, grasping—both physically and emotionally—for just a little bit more. “Stay.”
He stood there a beat, his eyes rolling up my body before he moved closer and took my chin in his hands. I was still holding out hope he’d have a change of heart.
“My sweet Maya.” He lowered his head, brushing his lips gently across mine. “So eager to do bad things?”
“Yes.” My voice was hoarse, not even trying to hide it.
He closed his eyes, the gentle brush of his mouth turning into a slow kiss. “You’re not making this easy for me.”
“Good, if I have to suffer then so should you.” I caught his bottom lip with my teeth, pulling gently before stepping away. I didn’t usually have a mean streak, but if I was going to be horny and unsatisfied, then I wanted to make sure he was too. Maybe more so, because he was the reason for it in the first place.
He chuckled, not as annoyed as I would have liked. “Rest assured, there will be plenty of suffering. Night, Maya. I’ll see you next week.”
And with a quick kiss on the cheek, he walked out the door. My head followed, craning out of my doorway as I watched him disappear down the stairs until he was gone completely from view.
Alone.
The emptiness in my apartment only a fraction of what I felt inside of myself, the realization of what had happened hitting me with full force.
I’d kissed Alex Larsson, told him I wanted him, and gotten rejected.
No reason and no explanation, except that he thought I didn’t want it.
But I had.
I’d wanted all of it, and all of him, and he must have wanted me too.
Those kisses weren’t imagined, the touches—real, and his words, “I want to fuck you, Maya,” they couldn’t have been any clearer. It wasn’t one sided.
Why?
None of it made sense.
But one thing was for sure, I would never do that again.
I’d already begged, so if there ever was a next time, it would be him.
I WOKE UP FEELING LIKE shit.
Not because I was hung over, because for all of Alex’s concerns, I hadn’t even been close to drunk. Buzzed a little, with lowered inhibitions—sure. But I knew what I’d been doing and I remembered everything.
No, the seedy feeling that made my head pound had nothing to do with the draft beer and everything to do with the sleep I didn’t get. Instead of closing my eyes, I tossed and turned like salad, unable to get any sleep.
I tried the usual things.
Warm shower.
Cold shower.
Reading.
But nothing quelled the feelings of emptiness and loneliness I felt, my body aching in parts that both confused and worried me.
Firstly, I was still horny.
Utterly ridiculous considering sex should be the last thing I wanted. But I could take all that common sense and toss it out the window with my sanity, because as much as I hated it, I still wanted him.
God, when I thought about him, my skin instantly heated. It didn’t matter that he stopped and it may never happen again—my body didn’t care.
I even tried to take care of it myself, but all I got was an empty orgasm and a tired hand. Nope, my body wouldn’t be fooled, and closing my eyes and pretending Alex was the one touching me wasn’t going to cut it.
I needed the real thing.
Hell, we wouldn’t even have to have sex. I’d settle for his lips and his hands, and the sweet delicious press of his—
Ugh.
I was disgusted with myself.
Shaking my metaphorical fist. I had better self-esteem than that, and certainly more self-respect. So the only reason I could be feeling that way was clearly a temporary psychosis brought on by sexual deficiency.
So I wanted sex, it had been a while. I’d dated some guys in college but I didn’t binge cock. I needed a connection; wanting there to be some thing—even if it was fleeting—before I let a man inside of me. And when I decided I was moving back to California, getting involved in a relationship seemed stupid. It had to have been seven mo
nths, maybe even eight—the fact I couldn’t remember was telling.
It was the sex I was desperate for.
Not him.
But every time I did manage to doze off, my mind flipped me off. The darkness took me right back to there, where our bodies moved against each other, reliving every sweet inch of him, and that freaking kiss.
That kiss.
I could make myself come a million times and it wouldn’t be enough.
When it became clear that my window for sleep had expired, I hauled myself out of bed. There wasn’t a reason to get up—I had no place to be—but lying in bed was depressing the hell out of me.
I dropped into the family group chat, sending a selfie as proof of life and assuring them I was fine. I didn’t expect anyone to be awake, but it made me feel less alone.
Mom—You’re up early. What’s wrong?
Maya—Nothing, just decided to get up and start my day. Think I might go for a jog.
Vanessa—Jog? You don’t jog, Maya. Is this code for you’re in trouble and need our help?
Maya—What are you doing up?
Vanessa—I have two children under the age of five. Who sleeps any more? So do I need to wake your brother? I can kick him really quick for you.
Mom—Oh sweetie, don’t wake up Jordon, you know he’s no good to anyone this early.
Vanessa—Mom, he’ll still be able to read this when he wakes up. LOL
Mom—I swear this phone types its own messages, I have no idea what’s going on.
Natalie—Why is everyone awake?
Mom—Maya can’t sleep.
Maya—I slept. I slept plenty. Got all the sleep I needed. Which is why I’m awake. I just wanted to tell you all I loved you and that I was doing fine.
Mom—You should try tea. Tea helps me.
Maya—I’m fine. No need for tea.
Natalie—How’s the hottie? I heard he’s been driving you to work ;-)
Maya—Mother >:-|
Mom—Oh, look at the time. I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve got to go.
Maya—I should go too.
Vanessa—Don’t jog.
Natalie—And email me later.
I hugged my phone, carrying it with me while I turned on my coffee machine and my computer.
Coffee had been consumed in such high quantities, my heart felt like it was shuddering in my chest. And I’d brushed my teeth at least six times before being satisfied it was minty freshness I tasted and not the memories of my Keurig. Nothing said pathetic than sitting in your living room at seven in the morning on a Saturday, with a resting heart rate of 120, and actually reading the affirmation emails your mother kept forwarding to you.
The power of positive thought, my ass.
But at least I had stopped obsessing about him, reminding myself that there was a time where I didn’t think about Alex sexually and he wasn’t the hottest man on earth.
If I thought it would help, I’d have called Jackie or Lisa. But talking about it wouldn’t do any good. What would I even say? So I continued to sit on my sofa, staring at the ceiling, watching the minutes tick by agonizingly slow and hoping I didn’t have a heart attack.
It was around nine when there was a knock at my door. I had been in a trance, lying on my couch in a black Marc Jacob’s dress I wore to graduation because it made me feel pretty, contemplating whether Gregorian chants were actually still performed by Gregorian monks.
I didn’t even bother asking who it was, rolling off the couch and ambling to the door, praying it wasn’t Prim reminding me about the tenant in 4F who had allegedly jizzed in the pool.
She wanted me to handle the case.
I vowed never to go for a swim.
“Oh God.” I clutched my chest, unprepared for the onslaught of an impeccably dressed Alex on the other side of the doorframe.
He was in his weekend clothes—jeans and casual Tee.
My thanks to a higher power weren’t only because I didn’t have to hear about my perverted neighbor and his semen. It was also because by some miracle I’d managed to remain upright and breathing.
How did he get better looking? His mussed up blond hair rebelled against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. His crystal clear eyes hinted at the trouble that played on his lips. All of him perfectly curated imperfection that made me want to devour him one painfully slow lick at a time.
“Expecting someone?” He raised that infamous eyebrow in question, looking down at my dress.
Even his eyebrow was sexy, the single part of his face worthy of its own fan club and possibly a parade.
Okay, so questioning my sanity was a little redundant, as was my hope that I stop thinking of him sexually.
No point arguing with human nature.
Deciding to use his surprise to my advantage, I grabbed his arms and pulled him in for hug. Oh, I hadn’t forgotten I’d laid myself before him like a plate of naked sushi and he’d decided he was no longer hungry. That shit was still very much on my mind as I curled my arms around him and took a lungful of his gorgeous heady scent. So clean, and fresh, like waterfalls and pine-covered forests.
I hated that he smelled so good.
“No, I was just glad I wasn’t having a heart attack.”
Okay, I needed to lay off the coffee.
Alex unwound me from his torso and pulled back to look at me. “Was there a danger of it happening? Or have I missed something?”
Oh he’d missed plenty, mainly the hours I’d spent sleepless wishing he’d touch me. But like my OD of caffeine, I didn’t want to discuss that either. “Nope, it was just a weird night, strange dreams.” I shook my head, gathering my thoughts together and wondering why the hell he’d come.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” The back of his hand tested my forehead, and it was a challenge not to lean into the contact. “You want to talk about last night?” He dropped his hand, satisfied my body temperature was normal. Sadly, that wasn’t the part that was fevered.
“No, I don’t want to talk about my dreams,” I scoffed, looping my arm around his and leading him to my living room. “Just crazy, mixed up stuff—nothing worth mentioning.” Because admitting to him I’d been having sexual fantasies all night wasn’t happening.
Somewhere between getting into the Marc Jacob dress, putting on makeup and contemplating the Gregorian chant thing, I’d also decided something else. Last night didn’t happen.
The kiss.
The rejection.
Throwing myself at him.
None of it.
Deny, deny, deny.
Despite my tugging, he didn’t budge, standing still while I animatedly tried to yank him to the couch like a Great Dane who needed to sit. If I had remembered yesterday, I would have recalled I hadn’t had much success in moving him against his will. But I didn’t, which was why I continued to try.
He put his hands around my waist, stopping my efforts. “I wasn’t talking about the dreams. I mean, last night.”
So he wanted to talk about it, huh? It was my eyebrow’s turn to rise, biting my lip as I played dumb. “Do you mean at the bar?”
His eyes narrowed, studying me closer. “No, at your apartment, after I drove you home.”
“Oh, that.” My hand waved casually followed by a chuckle. “Thanks, I probably should have offered to take an Uber. I promise buying a car is at the top of my to do list in the next few months.”
He looked at me like I was insane.
But I didn’t care.
I had made up my mind—plead ignorance and denial.
Partly because I was embarrassed. I’d practically begged him for sex and he’d refused. And it wasn’t some random guy I’d never see again. He knew me, and I knew him. And as much as I tried to toughen up and get thicker skin, it still stung.
The other reason was my pride.
He’d kissed me.
Granted, I had plans to do the very same to him, but our first kiss—the only one we’d ever shared—had been initiated by him.
He changed his mind?
Decided he didn’t want to anymore and turn it around on me like he was doing me a favor?
No.
I had my own mind.
So if he wanted to pretend like it wasn’t his rock hard dick rubbing up against my clit last night, then I was good to keep up the premise. Besides, after hours of slipping in and out of sex dreams, I’d began questioning whether it had actually happened or if it was my vivid imagination.
Seemed fair he’d do the same.
His brow furrowed, faint lines crinkled in his forehead as he opened then closed his mouth.
Speechless.
Satisfied I’d won the upper hand, I grinned and went into the kitchen. I was positive another cup of coffee was going to send me into a cardiac arrest but willing to take the risk. “Coffee?” I yelled cheerily over my shoulder, watching as he followed.
“I wasn’t talking about the ride.” He spun me around, his eyes stormy like New Haven in the fall, and if I didn’t know any better I’d think he was going to kiss me. He didn’t. “I meant inside your apartment.”
“Oh? Something happen inside my apartment?” My hand adjusted my neckline demurely, his eyes drawn down to my cleavage.
And he thought his brothers were good actors, ha! I wouldn’t be collecting any fancy statuettes on my mantle but I could definitely hold my own.
Pretending to be clueless wasn’t fun for me, and not something I was in the habit of doing. But with an objective, I allowed it.
He shook his head, discounting whatever thought had presented itself and finally met my eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked, vowing to not break before he did.
He kept his eyes on mine. “Yep.” His mouth popping on the P.
“Well good.” I spun around, turning my back to him as I reached for cups. “So what brings you here on a Saturday morning? Did we have plans I wasn’t aware of?”
For all the lies I’d told, the truth had finally shown up.
I had no idea why he had landed on my doorstep after he’d promised me Monday, and I very much wanted to know. If it was a stupid sense of obligation to make sure I was “okay,” then he could go fuck himself.
Of everything I wanted to be, his obligation wasn’t it.
