His hands were sweaty on the steering wheel and he was extremely relieved that he’d thought to apply an extra layer of deodorant. Otherwise he might be sweating through his dress shirt.
After she’d agreed to the date with him, they’d set some ground rules. This was an experiment and by the time Ricky came home they were going to decide if it had worked or not. They were not going to spend their time rehashing the past or talking about the divorce. This was strictly to get to know one another again. To date the way normal people dated. And perhaps most importantly, if it didn’t work, they were both going to finally try to move on.
No pressure or anything.
Rook pulled up in front of May’s house and grabbed the flowers he’d bought for her. The paper crinkled in his hand as he strode up her front steps and took a deep breath. He knocked and waited, but not for long. It was almost as if she’d been waiting by the door.
When she pulled open the door, all of the air in his lungs just sort of exploded outward. “Holy god,” he muttered. She was wearing a red dress. It had big blue flowers on it and wrapped around her. It was knotted at her waist and Rook knew that if he pulled one of those looped strings, the whole thing would just sort of twist off her perfect body.
But that is not what a man on a first date would do and that’s what he was here for. A first date.
“Holy god, back at ya,” she said, a little color in her cheeks. Her hair was twisted back from her face in a braid that made her simply look lovely. Her eyes were dark and her lips red. And, as he watched, her cheeks got even pinker.
Rook looked down at his own outfit. He wore a dark blue button down and nice jeans, his best pair of leather boots. It had probably been a long time since she’d seen him wear anything other than white or black. Judging from the look on her face, the blue had been a good choice.
He cleared his throat. “I brought these for you.”
She frowned down at the paper-wrapped daisies for a second, confusion in her expression. Because she hated daisies. Always had. And he’d known this for fifteen years, as long as he’d known her. She preferred peonies and blood red roses and occasionally the darkest purple tulips a man could find. He’d known that preference for years.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you liked,” he told her. Because this was a first date.
“Right,” she said, understanding lighting her expression, a warmth coming into her eyes. She hugged the daisies to her chest and he knew she understood what they represented. Those, right there, were fresh-start daisies. The most hopeful flowers anyone had ever given someone else.
“I’m just going to put these in water,” she whispered, smiling down at the flowers. “Please, come in. “
Rook stepped in after her, but waited in the foyer, like he would have on a first date with a different woman, not wanting to invade her space. He listened fondly to the sounds of May tinkering in the kitchen. A moment later, she emerged from the kitchen with the daisies arranged in a glass jar. She set them on the dining room table and adjusted their placement for a second before she turned back to him. Grinning hard.
He held her hand while she slipped into her high heels and grabbed her purse, but he unhanded her for the walk to the car.
This was a tenuous game they were playing and he was determined to be careful. He drove her to a sushi restaurant in Park Slope where they covered all the first date topics.
He relished how proud she was of her business. He was intrigued to hear the way she spoke about her family when he asked her to describe them. They both couldn’t stop grinning when she talked about Ricky. When she cheekily asked him if having a kid was a deal-breaker.
“No,” he told her. “I have a daughter as well. About that age. She’s the most brilliant person to ever walk the earth. The second you see her, you’ll love her.”
Rook was surprised to find out that he didn’t know everything about her. She loved the newest Mission Impossible movie, for one. The May he used to know had thought that kind of movie was stupid and boring.
He was truly surprised to hear that she’d started training for the Brooklyn half-marathon. It wasn’t something she’d ever had any interest in before.
Turned out they’d both read the same book about long-distance running that year and it had inspired both of them to start running again.
“Imagine that,” he said to her.
“Imagine that,” she repeated, sliding some of her green tea ice cream across the table for him to taste.
He paid the bill and they left the restaurant side by side. They lingered next to his truck, both of them obviously stalling for time, not ready for the date to be over.
“Would you like to go for a walk in Brooklyn Bridge Park?” he asked, surprised to find that he was nervous to ask. He wanted her to say yes for so many reasons.
“Yes,” she answered immediately.
So, that’s just what they did. A long walk in the warm summer evening along the East River. The city sparkled across the water, the Brooklyn Bridge sitting like a crown atop a royal head.
For the first time in years, May and Rook didn’t talk about the past. They didn’t talk about their relationship or their divorce. They didn’t even talk about Ricky. And even though she was both of their favorite topics, it was surprisingly rewarding to talk about themselves as people. To talk about their individual lives and not their lives as parents.
He talked to her about Rook Securities and she asked genuine questions. She seemed truly interested in it. She’d never seemed interested before. She’d always treated it with a reserve and distance, as if any interest he had outside the family was the enemy.
They walked all the way up the park and all the way back, his heart pounding in his chest like Godzilla’s footsteps the whole time. He drove her home but didn’t want to.
They’d agreed that sex was off the table for a bit, so bringing her home pretty much meant the night was over. He so didn’t want it to be over.
He walked May to the door and she fiddled with her house keys for a second as she stood one step up from him. And then she leaned forward and slicked one of her hands over his clavicle and around to the back of his neck. He was already leaning into her when she pressed her mouth to his.
They’d shared thousands of kisses in their time together. Passionate ones, sexual ones, chaste ones, love-filled ones, perfunctory ones, distracted ones. But this one? This was a life-changing kiss. This kiss tasted of beginnings. It was sweet and promising and so sexy that Rook got hard almost immediately. His hands were flat on her back for only a moment before her dress was fisted tight. He refused to let his hands wander or else he was just going to walk her backward into her house and make enough love to last them into the next lifetime. And neither of them were ready for that outcome.
Instead, panting, he pulled back from the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. She was breathing just as hard as he was. He pried one of her hands off of his shoulders and laid her palm flat over his racing heart. He wanted her to know exactly what that kiss had just done to him.
Her eyes on his, she did the same thing, laying his hand over her heart, halfway on the V of her dress and half on the silky-hot skin of her chest.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
She chewed her lip. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing that he was. That he didn’t want to risk spoiling this thing between them by rushing it, but that they only had ten days to figure this out. Wasting even a second of it seemed criminal.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered.
He took a risk and tasted her lips one more time. “A movie,” he suggested and almost threw a triumphant fist in the air when her eyes lit with delight.
“That sounds nice. But it’ll have to be late because I work until eight.”
“A late-night movie,” he agreed, liking the sound of that. It was something college kids did. Something that he and May had never really had the chance to do before.
But they were do
ing it now.
***
He took her to a late-night movie on Monday night. Tuesday night was to dinner at a new, hip restaurant in Greenpoint. They ended up making out in his car after that one. Wednesday night they saw a play at the Public Theater and held hands on the train on the way home. They were both busy on Thursday with work stuff, but May was relieved. She was so freaking dizzied by him that the twenty-four hours of a break was welcome.
The daisies he’d brought hadn’t even begun to wilt yet and she was already ass over feet in love with the man again. He was romancing her to within an inch of her life and her defenses were dead and gone.
She knew that there were reasons to keep away from him. She was constantly reminding herself that their marriage had ended for a reason. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. She was gone for him. Lost in thoughts of him and daydreaming, smiling into empty rooms, squeezing her thighs together at thoughts of his sex.
She stood in line at the grocery store when she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and texted him.
Are you torturing me on purpose? she texted him.
He texted back immediately. Torturing you? I thought I was romancing you.
That’s part of what’s torturing me.
Explain.
She moved up a few feet in the line and quickly glanced around to make sure that no one could read her phone.
I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you all the time.
Her phone went silent. He didn’t reply. There were no texts for two excruciating moments. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone buzzed in her hand. Her mouth dropped flat open as she unlocked her phone and saw something she’d never forget as long as she lived. Her skin buzzed with electricity as she stared at a picture of a shirtless, smirking Rook, shadows on his face and his head cocked to one side.
Does this help? read the caption.
She nearly choked on her own tongue. See? she texted back. You’re torturing me. And enjoying it, you bastard.
Why don’t you let me make you dinner tonight and then you can torture me back. All you want.
She pushed her tongue into her cheek and thought about it. She wanted to see him so desperately badly. She wanted this playful, light, flirty version of him. He was just so damn easy to be around. But in all honesty, she wanted every and any version of him. This week of fun with him just highlighted how close to the surface her feelings for him always were. She couldn’t shove them down anymore, good idea or not.
I’ll be there. And I’m going to wear something that’ll make you beg for mercy.
Everything you wear makes me want to beg for mercy. What are you wearing right now?
She laughed at his audacity. And at the cheesiness of the line. It really was very fun to play this way. She looked down at her outfit. Black yoga pants, pink tank top, yellow sports bra and a bright blue thong.
Immediately a picture text came through of his face. He had one hand over his mouth, tugging his face down into a picture of distressed, pained lust.
She laughed again.
Be there at 8.
“You’re up, honey,” the woman behind her in line said bossily, nudging her cart forward.
May quickly checked out and carried her groceries home, figuring she had just enough time to get cleaned up for her date. She shaved and exfoliated, rubbing scented lotion into every inch of her skin. She blow dried her hair to a high shine and slipped into the sexiest lingerie she owned. It was basically a configuration of red strings that she’d purchased one lonely Valentine’s Day two or three years ago. She slipped into a short black sheath dress that had a sheer panel from her knee to her thigh and another one high across her chest, just above her breasts. She knew that the hint of skin would drive Rook insane. She couldn’t wait.
He’d offered to pick her up, but she wanted to wow him at his front door, so she took a cab. She wanted the sight of her in his doorway to utterly destroy the memory of any other woman he’d ever had in his house.
She was swinging for the fences tonight.
He buzzed her into his building and then answered his door with a dishtowel tossed over his shoulder and a smile on his face. The smile slipped off of his face like a car sliding on ice. His expression sobered and darkened as he took in her outfit, as he stared at her in his hallway.
May resisted the urge to look down at her outfit, she knew she looked perfect, but his reaction was kind of freaking her out.
He stepped aside wordlessly, letting her into his house and she strode past him on her red high heels.
When she looked at him over her shoulder as he locked up his house, he was pulling on the bottom half of his face again, the same thing he’d done in that selfie he’d sent her. She figured that was a good sign.
But then, he turned, put his back to his door and just stared at her. She felt as if she were some exotic wild animal and he was a scientist, observing her. Neither of them had spoken a word yet and the silence was leaking in on all sides, like water into the cracks of a rusty boat.
“Javi—” she started to ask if he was all right, but he cut her off.
“Tell me.”
“What?” She put her hands on her hips. He still stood against the front door, ten feet away from her.
“Tell me if this is going to work or not. Because I’ve been trying to play it cool, May. But this? The way you look tonight? How badly I want you? There’s not gonna be any coming back from this. So, please. Just tell me if this is going to be over soon. I need to know.”
She would have thought that an ultimatum like that would have sent her skittering toward the hills, freaked out and stressed. But for some reason, hearing the desperate note in his voice, the plea in his words, it calmed her. This wasn’t a question that she’d expected him to ask, but this also wasn’t a question she hadn’t already asked herself. And answered. The answer, as freaking terrifying as it was, was securely locked up in her heart. It had been for a long time, but she hadn’t been able to let it out.
Instead of answering him, she turned on her heel and walked into his kitchen, her heels clacking on his floors.
She could feel him following behind her, watching her wordlessly.
There was a bottle of wine on the counter, sauce bubbling on the stove, and water boiling next to it. She walked to the burners and turned them off. When she turned back to him, his eyes were dark.
“May—” he started, but cut himself off when she walked up to him, swept the hair off of her back and presented the back zipper on her dress to him.
She felt his breath sweep across her neck and then, finally, his fingers gripping her zipper. He dragged it down and she wasted no time in brushing the dress off either shoulder, letting it slip to the floor and pool on the ground.
Then, her eyes over one shoulder, she stepped away from him. She heard his low curse as she gave him the full view of her lingerie, skimpy and red, her body was on full display, just for him. She walked halfway down the hall toward his bedroom before she turned back around, looking over her shoulder again.
His eyes were pinned on her almost bare ass, the sweep of her hair, the shadow of her spine. He looked pained and lustful and like a man about to wreck himself on the rocks once again.
He was ten feet away and still staring at her when she turned fully, giving him the front view. She leaned one hand above her head, framing herself in the doorway of his bedroom.
May trailed a hand down her side, lingering at her breasts and hips. “This,” she told him, “is for you. It’s only for you.”
He was in front of her in a flash. She expected him to pick her up and smash their mouths together, but instead, he was on his knees in front of her, his hands wrapped around her knees, his forehead resting on her belly.
“Say it again,” he rasped, in an almost broken sort of voice.
“I’m yours, Javi.”
He flinched, as if her words were sent to him on the end of a whip. His fingers tightened and his head presse
d harder.
“Again,” he whispered.
“I’m yours. This is yours. Everything is yours. Just like you’re mine.”
“Forever,” he told her, finally tipping his head back so she could see those secretly blue eyes of his. “I am yours until the end of time, May. I always have been.”
When he rose up this time, he didn’t touch her. He simply tugged his shirt off and kicked off his pants and underwear. He was naked when he finally lifted her and carried her into his bedroom. He set her on the bed and then grappled with the covers, trying to yank them out from under her. Several chaotic, sloppy seconds later, they were pressed full-length against one another completely under the blankets, the entire world shut out but for one another.
He held her so tightly she could barely breathe and there was wetness on the cheeks they pressed together. She wasn’t sure if he was crying or she was.
“I love you,” he told her with his tongue tracing the inner curve of her lower lip. “I’m so gone in love with you. I always have been. I always will be.”
Her fingers ached from how hard she gripped his shoulders. Their legs were tangled as they rolled, putting him on top and then her.
“I love you,” she told him. And she added nothing else. Because it needed no frills. No qualifications. It was the truest sentence to ever leave her lips, and she figured that dressing it up was not necessary in the least.
They lost themselves in kisses. Eventually, he yanked back the blankets and rediscovered her lingerie. He cursed and groaned as he attempted to slide the complicated garments off of her. Eventually he tore them away.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he promised right before he plunged his tongue between her legs.
She couldn’t have cared less about the lingerie. When he finally pushed into her, he was laid over top of her, her legs pinned around his waist and their fingers laced above her head. She was already clamping down on him in ecstasy. He rode her slowly at first, and then, when neither of them could take it another second, he tipped them to their sides. There was less leverage in this position, but they rode each other furiously. She moaned and scratched and worked herself against him like every thrust was erasing some painful moment of their past.
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