by Staci Hart
His brow was still low, though he wasn’t judging me. He was worried. “Why do you always feel like you’ve gotta save him?”
I wiped the sweat from the cold bottle with my thumb. “He was the first friend I’d ever had, Joel. I was sixteen and alone in New York with nothing but the money my dad gave me when I left.”
“Fuck The Sergeant.” He raised his bottle.
I did the same. “Hear, hear.”
We both took drinks.
I recrossed my feet in front of me, staring at the laces of my boots. “Seth was … I don’t know. He was free and wild. Being with him made me feel like I was invincible. I was closed off to the world when I met him, and he showed me what the other side looked like.”
“And got you hooked on drugs. Heroin, at that. He couldn’t have just smoked weed like a normal person.”
I shook my head. “He just doesn’t know when to quit. Like his self-preservation gene is dysfunctional.”
Joel pointed the mouth of his bottle at me. “He’s weak, and he preys on you.”
I gave him a flat look. “I’m not stupid, Joel. My eyes are wide open when it comes to him. The last time we lived together and I came home and found him sprawled out in his bed, barely conscious with a needle in his arm? I called it, man. I pulled the trigger the second he was coherent, and I kicked him out. That was it. I’m not a sucker, man.”
“No, but you’ve got a soft spot for him. It’s no wonder he’s around. He needs something.”
“Maybe. But he didn’t ask me for anything.”
“Yet.”
I dragged in a breath and let it out slow. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. I’m not jumping to move in with him, not with so much to figure out with Rose. But Seth is clean, or says he is, and he seems to be. I’ve never seen him like this before, and I want to believe this is it. I’m not going to turn him out. It’s been a long time, and if he has his shit together, I’m willing to entertain the idea.”
Joe’s eyes were heavy with knowledge and warning. “You miss the good old days, but here’s the thing, Patrick. Those good old days weren’t real. It was a mirage, an idea that you had of him that wasn’t the truth because you were thirsty for a friend. The truth is that he’s too weak to quit. Not everyone has what you have, the spit, the scrote, you know? They’re not warriors.”
I felt the key Rose gave me, hanging against my heart. Survive. And then I looked into his eyes and told him the real reason, the one I usually kept guarded, hidden. “I have to believe that anyone can change, Joel. I have to believe that if you want something bad enough, you can make your own destiny. I have to believe there’s a choice.”
“There is a choice, and anyone can change, but it’s harder for some than others. Look, I know Seth wants to change. But what we want and what we do aren’t always the same thing.” He sighed. “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t like him hanging around, and I certainly don’t like the idea of you living with him.”
“You don’t say,” I said with a smirk.
“Smartass,” he muttered and took a sip.
“I hear you, man. I really do. I’ll watch my back, okay? Just trust me to handle it. I’ve earned that, right?”
“Yeah, you’ve earned it,” he said begrudgingly. “I just worry, you know.”
“I know. But you’re not responsible for my actions any more than I am for Seth’s.”
But he shrugged, smiling at me. “What can I say? I’m invested.”
NICE AND SLOW
Patrick
I LEFT JOEL’S TO HEAD to Habits to meet West and Lily, but mostly to see Rose. She stood behind the bar, dark hair down and red lips smiling.
That smile was mine.
The night was mostly inconsequential, just the four of us hanging out as Max and Ellie canoodled a few seats away. Lily and West seemed to be watching me and Rose. I couldn’t take my eyes of her, and instead of her looking away or avoiding me all together, she met my gaze through the night, touched my arm, slipped her fingers into mine.
Seth was on my mind, and I thought about telling her. But it had to wait. We had to figure us out first.
By the time Lily leaned over the bar to kiss Rose goodbye, Ellie and Max’s make-out session had grown progressively heavier, and with more visible tongue.
Ellie broke away, lips swollen and lids heavy as she smiled at Rose.
“We’re heading to Max’s, so you two have the place to yourselves. Don’t break any more lamps, okay?” She winked as she grabbed her bag and slipped off the stool, grabbing Max by the front of the shirt to snap him out of it. He grinned at me and followed her out of the bar like a puppy dog.
And then, Rose and I were alone. Or as alone as we could be in Habits. The bar was almost empty other than a couple in the back, Shelby, the other bartender, and Bob, who was awake by only a degree as he nursed something neat and amber at a booth in the back corner.
Rose sighed, smiling as she cleared away the glasses and cocktail napkins and talked about her days. Everything about the night was familiar, the same thing we’d done a hundred times, but somehow, everything was different too. She was different. Excitement buzzed through me at the prospect of this lasting. I tried to push the thought away, telling myself the shoe would drop at some point, but I wasn’t strong enough to bury the feeling all together.
As much as I wanted to know how she felt, I didn’t want to ruin the moments between us with the business of what would come. I read her expression, her body language, and I knew — she was happy too. So I wouldn’t ask questions I didn’t want the answer to. Not until I needed the answer.
Right now, there was only one thing I needed, and it didn’t require a single word.
Shelby made her way over smiling, eyes bouncing between us. “Head home, Rose. I’ll shut it down.”
“You sure?” she asked hopefully.
“Yup. I can handle Bob, and Craig will be here in a few, so I’ve got muscle to walk me home.”
“Thank goodness for beefy boyfriends,” she said with a laugh. “Thanks, Shelby. Let me restock and finish cleaning up at least.”
She raised her hands. “If you insist. Have fun, you two.”
Rose moved a little faster, blowing to the stock room and coming back with bottles in her arms, and I watched her, the line of her neck, the curve of her waist, her fingers as she lined the bottles up. And then she was smiling up at me as she walked around the bar and took my arm.
I felt like I was high, caught between everything we had been when we were together and everything I’d wanted when we were apart. Memories, wishing, all of it had amalgamated into whatever we were now.
We were shoulder to shoulder as we walked the blocks to our building, chatting easily, and when she leaned into me, I tucked her under my arm, reveling in the feeling. We walked up the stairs, through her front door. When I closed it behind me, I watched her back for a moment as she set down her purse and bent to pull off her boots.
She stood again, and I stepped behind her, turned her around, slipped my hand into the curve of her neck. Searched her face, her dark eyes full of questions and answers. But instead of asking for them, I kissed her.
Last night we needed each other. Tonight, I would take my time.
Her arms wound around my neck slowly, hands slipping up my nape and into my hair as I closed my mouth over her bottom lip and sucked.
Her arms tightened, bringing her flush against me.
I picked her up, carried her through the apartment and into her room, standing her up at the foot of her bed. She looked up at me, eyes burning.
I stripped off my leather jacket, my eyes on her lips, hers on my hands as I unbuttoned my shirt. Her fingers slipped under the fabric, tracing the lines of my tattoos down my abs as I pulled off my shirt. Her fingertips ran across the tattoo low on my hip, one she must not have noticed before.
She looked up at me, eyes big and open, still touching the rose inked into my skin, surrounded by thorns. “Patrick …” she whispered
, the word heavy with sadness.
But I smiled. “A reminder of my regrets. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
I covered her mouth with mine before she could speak, not needing words. Not wanting them yet. I could feel her heart through her touch, the bittersweet ache of yes and no warring through her.
One hand found her face, fingers splayed across her cheek, her chin in my hand, and I gripped, angling her just how I wanted as my other hand crossed her back, pulling her close, as close as I could. I felt her let go, give me control, as if she’d given me permission to do with her what I wished. So that’s exactly what I did.
I broke away and stepped back, watching her pant, barely able to open her eyes.
“Take off your clothes.” The command was gravelly and low, my voice partially lost to her.
Her lips were swollen, parted, eyes locked on mine as she crossed her arms, reaching for the hem of her shirt to lift it over her head, hair spilling out of the neck and down her bare back. I unzipped my pants as she unbuttoned hers, slipping my hand in to grip myself, thumb stroking slowly as I watched her fingers pop the button of her pants. With her eyes on my hand, she pushed them down her thighs, stepped out of them and turned, looking back at me over her shoulder to meet my eyes once more as she unlatched her bra and slid the straps down her arms and to the floor. And when she hooked her thumbs in her black panties and pushed them over the swell of her ass, I wouldn’t wait any longer.
I reached for her.
She pressed her ass against me as I kissed her neck, hand gripping her hip. Her back arched, arm curling behind her to cup the back of my head where she slipped her fingers into my hair and squeezed, urging me on. My free hand found her soft breast, the curve resting in my palm, and I squeezed once, gently, before trailing lower, stopping between her legs.
She took a breath when I dragged my finger up the length of her, wet and warm, circling when I reached the top, then back down again and up, circling again as her hips rocked slowly.
“Lie down.” I let her go, and she crawled onto the bed and rolled over onto her back, watching me. Waiting.
It seemed like one of us always was.
I climbed onto the bed, reaching for her leg, kissing her thigh as I hooked it over my shoulder with my eyes on hers. I made my way higher, feeling her thigh tremble against my hand, my lips. And when I reached the top, I ran my tongue across her gently, closed my lips over her and sucked. She gasped — her fingers found my hair and twisted.
I knew what she wanted.
I rolled my neck as my tongue traced unrecognizable shapes against the sensitive spot, and my fingers ran up the line, spreading her open before slipping inside slowly. She moaned.
If my lips hadn’t been busy, I would have smiled.
I knew her body like it was mine — the months apart had erased nothing. She gasped again as I pressed deeper, and when she clenched once around my fingers, hard, I let her go, kissed up her stomach. Her fingers were still in my hair, and she pulled, urging me, sitting to meet me and take my lips. I cupped her neck, kissing her deep as her hands fumbled with my pants, slipping them in to grip me the second she was able.
I grabbed her around the waist and rolled us. She moved down my body licking a trail, her hand stroking me slowly until she was between my legs, looking up at me as she licked up my shaft, over the metal ball of my piercing, across the thin, sensitive layer of skin over the bar, then the second ball, rolling her tongue before closing her mouth over my crown. She sucked.
My mouth hung open as I watched her and she watched me. I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, and she hummed, lids fluttering closed as she dropped down.
I watched myself disappear into her mouth, reappear, disappear, her tongue flicking against my piercing, sending a shock deep into me. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. I gripped the back of her head, urging her down as her arm wrapped under my thigh, hand gripping my waist as she moved faster. My ass flexed to get as deep as I could without hurting her.
“Come here,” I growled when I couldn’t take it anymore, and as she climbed up my body, I grabbed her, flipping us over again. I settled in between her legs and reached for her knee, spreading her thighs. She sucked in a breath, rolling her hips, cradling my shaft with her wet length. The bottom ball of my piercing circled her with every wave of her hips, and her lids closed, dark hair fanned out around her.
I needed her.
I thrust hard enough to make her gasp before reaching over to her nightstand.
“No,” she muttered.
“Rose …”
She rolled her hips again, circled the piercing. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you. Have you?”
I brushed her hair from her face and traced her jaw. “No.”
“Then no. It’s safe. IUD,” she breathed, dragging her nails across my ass as she slipped herself up my shaft until my tip rested just at the edge of her. “Now fuck me.”
My tongue slipped across my lip as I flexed, slipping into her, pushing until I hit the end. She moaned, head rolling, and I pulled out, eyes down as I flexed again until our bodies met in a seam.
I bent to kiss her neck stretched out before me like an invitation, licked a trail up to her ear where I breathed, humming soft. She brought up her other knee, her calves pressed against my ribs, opening herself up so I could get deeper.
“Fuck,” she breathed and reached over her head, bracing herself against the headboard as I pulled out and slammed back in. Her eyes were closed, lips swollen, breasts jostling with every thrust. Her neck arched. Her brow furrowed. Her lips parted with a gasp, stretching wider with a silent cry when I flexed once more, and she exploded around me in a burst, squeezing, pulsing, body tight as she let go.
I slowed as she did, bending to kiss her breast, closing my eyes as I traced a circle around her nipple before closing my lips, pulling it gently into my mouth. Her fingers slipped into my hair, and I spent a long moment there, cradled in her arms, her breast in my hand, against my tongue.
When I pulled away, I kissed her sternum and sat, gripping her hip.
“Roll over.” The words were thick.
Her lids were heavy as she did what I asked, raising her ass, shoulders pressed to the bed. She looked back at me again, and I ran a hand down her spine, to her hips, grabbing to lift her higher. My hand gripped my base, angling myself until my crown pressed against her.
I took a breath and pulled her onto me.
Her lids fluttered closed again with a sigh. Both hands found her hips, heart hammering as I pushed and pulled, my eyes taking everything in. Faster. She moaned. Harder. My heart ached. Deeper. I came with a cry, breath coming in long drags, and I bent over, slipping my arms under her, my chest against her back as I waited for my body to relax.
She rocked her hips in tiny waves, just enough to send shocks through me, down my thighs.
I kissed her shoulder blade and ran the tip of my nose across her skin.
It was more than just sex. I knew from the way she wound her fingers though mine and kissed them with tender lips. I knew from the way those lips curled into the smallest smile. I knew from the way she breathed, from the beat of her heart — I could feel it through her ribs, through my ribs and into my own heart.
And more than ever before, I was afraid I’d lose her again.
CRIMSON ED
Rose
THE SECOND I WOKE UP, I knew the day was going to suck. It didn’t matter that Patrick’s arms were around me, as confusingly comforting as that was. It didn’t matter that I had the day off, because I’d spend it in the worst way possible.
I felt that tiny ovarian tweak, the one that turned into a dull ache, then into a cramp that doubled me over as my stupid uterus punished me for not giving it a baby.
I groaned and hauled ass to the bathroom, dropping my head into my hands as I peed. Because once every month, that dirty redheaded demon who I called Crimson Edwina showed her face and ruined my life for five to seven days.
See, I was one of those lucky uterus owners who had horribly hellish periods. Periods that no IUD or high-powered birth control could tame. I guess I shouldn’t complain — since getting the IUD years ago, I didn’t have to take muscle relaxers or drink myself stupid for several days to survive Ed’s wrath. So I guess the tradeoff for a solid twenty four hours of hell was better than crying on the couch for a week. Because that first day was always a nightmare.
Win some, lose some. I was counting it as a win.
Still didn’t make it fun.
One Super-Extra-Plus tampon, a pad that bordered on diaper status, and a handful of Advil later, I limped back to my room and climbed into bed, trying not to whimper.
Patrick pulled me into his chest. “Is it Ed?”
“That stupid bitch,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “Hungry?”
“No. I want to die.”
“That’s exactly what she wants. Don’t let her win, Rosie.”
I couldn’t find it in my heart to laugh, but I smiled.
“Think you can go back to sleep?” he asked.
“Maybe for a bit.”
“Give it a try. Get some rest, okay?” He started to pull away, but I grabbed his arm and tugged him back to me.
“Don’t go yet. I need a hug.”
He smiled and squeezed me tighter. “Want me to wait until you fall asleep?”
I nodded, and he stroked my hair. Even Crimson Ed couldn’t withstand that, and within minutes I’d drifted off to sleep.
I woke when I heard him come back in a few hours later, kicking off his boots before climbing back into bed with me.
“I thought you were going to work,” I croaked and nestled into him.
“I’m off today. How are you feeling?”
“Like a donkey kicked me in the vagina.”
He kissed my hair. “Hungry yet?”
I groaned.
“I went to Cake,” he cajoled.
