by Serena Grey
There was a chorus of greeting and hugs. Everyone was glad to see him, even me. I was apprehensive, and my body had gone entirely out of my control, but there was nowhere in the world I’d have preferred to be than right there, just a few feet away from him.
“Glad you could make it,” Grant said after they hugged. “How was Miami?”
“Fun.” He grinned.
Jealousy twisted in my stomach as I thought of beaches with unbelievably sexy women clad in tiny bikinis. There was no way he’d been in Miami thinking about me the way I’d been thinking about him. I was sure he had long since moved on, and the realization hurt.
“Dinner is set,” Helen announced. “You arrived right on time.”
We went to the table. Jason disappeared for a moment but returned and took the seat right beside me. We’d said a casual hi for the benefit of his family, and now I wondered what I would say to him all through the meal. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his presence with every inch of my body and with every breath I took. I knew what I wanted to say. It started with please and ended with I need you to fuck me now.
The wine was poured. Grant gave a short toast. We started eating, and through every moment, my senses stayed acutely trained on Jason. My nose caught the familiar scent of his shampoo, the faint hint of spicy cologne. I wanted to drag my lips across his skin, to fill my senses with all of him.
“What’s it like working for a small press?”
I turned to Grant, almost blushing at the direction my thoughts had been going. “It’s interesting,” I replied. “We cater to a relatively small niche. They know what to expect, and we know what to give them.”
“Makes marketing a lot easier, I assume,” Grant said.
“Exactly.”
“The wine is delicious, Dad,” Amy said. “What’s it called?”
I tuned out as they started to talk about wine, turning back to my plate while my latent awareness of Jason rose to the surface again. I knew I should talk to him, or else it was going to become glaringly apparent to everyone else that we had barely said a word to each other all night.
His long fingers were wrapped lightly around the stem of his glass. I remembered things those fingers had done to me and momentarily lost my train of thought.
He smiled my way, and I literally felt my insides clench.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he murmured.
I tried to smile. “I didn’t know you were going to come.”
He raised one eyebrow. Jeez, why does he have to be so devastatingly sexy? “And if you had, you wouldn’t have come?”
I gulped down some wine before facing him again. “Probably not.”
“Why not?” he asked, leaning toward me and bringing his lips even closer. I knew just how those lips felt on mine, how they trailed heat down my skin. If I kissed him now, they would taste of wine and sex and memories.
Because then I wouldn’t be considering dragging you from your chair and finding the nearest place to spread my leg open for your cock.
“I don’t know,” I replied with a small shrug. “After our last conversation, I would have thought showing up at your parents’ home with you in attendance would be like sending mixed signals.
His gaze dropped to my breasts, and I wondered if he could see the hardening of my nipples under the fabric of my dress. Under his gaze, I felt them tighten even more.
His lips curved. “I don’t know about mixed signals,” he said slowly. “I think I’m reading your signals very clearly.
My throat felt dry, and I took another gulp of wine, pretending I didn’t understand what he meant, didn’t know he could read my need for him like I was an open book. Colin was telling Grant and Helen about growing up in a small town in England and going to boarding school at a young age while Amy looked adoringly at him. I focused my attention on them, forcing my mind to ignore the man seated so close beside me.
It wasn’t easy, but for the rest of the meal, most of the conversation centered on Colin and Amy, and I did my best to join in, spreading my attention all around so I wouldn’t for one moment find myself focused on Jason again.
After dinner, Amy followed Grant to the wine cellar to pick out another bottle for us to drink outside on the patio. Helen shooed Colin away from helping with the dishes, though she wasn’t so successful with Jason and me. We stacked the plates and carried them over to the kitchen where Helen rinsed and loaded them in the dishwasher.
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” she said, smiling gratefully as we brought in the last of the plates. “I’m sure I can manage from here.”
Jason washed his hands and wiped them on a towel then planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for dinner,” he told her. “I’m going out back.”
I tried not to ogle his long legs as he strode away and chose to linger in the kitchen, not eager to join him outside just yet. Helen finished loading the dishwasher and started to wipe the sink.
“It’s really nice outside tonight,” she mused. “Just warm enough, and the sky is so clear you can see all the stars…and the lake is just beautiful at night.”
“I saw it from the window upstairs. It’s lovely.”
“Yes.” Her voice was warm. “The kids used to swim out there when they were younger. It seems so long ago now.”
I made a sound of agreement. I didn’t know how it felt to be an empty nester, but I could imagine missing the vibrancy of teenagers in a silent house. I washed my hands, and as I dried them, I noticed a picture frame above one of the counters. It was one of those electronic ones where the pictures were part of a slideshow. There were a few pictures of Amy and Jason, then one of Jason and a much younger Grant at Disneyland. Jason looked about four years old. He was clutching a furry rabbit and a balloon, and he looked miserable.
My heart ached with a weird desire to comfort that long-ago Jason. “You’d think he’d be more excited to be at the happiest place on earth,” I mused aloud.
Helen came over to peer at the picture. “Oh! That picture.” She shook her head. “Actually, he was miserable. His mother had just left, and he missed her so much. Grant says he used to cry himself to sleep at night.”
For a moment, I was at a complete loss. “His mother?”
Helen looked at me and understanding washed over her features. “You didn’t know,” she said softly. “He’s my son, but no, I didn’t give birth to him. His mother left about a year before I met Grant.”
“How awful,” I murmured, my voice small. I’d told Jason he had no idea what it was like to lose someone while totally unaware that the person who was supposed to love him most in the world had walked out on him.
“I think they must have picked the wine by now,” Helen said. “We should join them on the patio and leave the past for another time, okay?”
The night sky was clear, and the stars burned brightly. The wine was smooth and mellow and made me feel warm, just not warm enough to forget some of the things reckless I’d said to Jason.
I heard him laugh. I let him refill my glass. I listened to his deep voice when he spoke and ached with the need to tell him how sorry I was for the way I’d rejected him that night.
Helen touched my hand. “Are you okay dear? You’ve been awfully quiet.”
I smiled. “I’m a bit tired.”
“Do you want to go up?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll stay for a while.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Amy told me about your parents,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. It must have been hard for you.”
It had been, but I’d survived. “It’s okay,” I replied, giving her a small smile. “It was a long time ago.”
She patted my hand again then stood. “I am tired,” she said. “You kids have fun. These days I need my beauty sleep.”
“That’s my cue,” Grant announced, rising to his feet as well.
Amy and Colin also went inside after a while, leaving just me and Jason. I lingered in my chair, waiting, though not exactly sure what I was w
aiting for. He showed no inclination to speak to me. His gaze was far away across the lake, and every now and then he would slosh the wine in his glass and take a sip.
I want us to see each other for real.
I closed my eyes, wondering how different things might have been if I’d been willing to go along with what he wanted.
“More wine?” Jason’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, thank you.” I held out my glass, and he poured me some of the wine then turned the rest into his glass. He downed it before starting to gather the bottle and the glasses together. It was as if I wasn’t even there. Was he just going to leave? I didn’t know for sure what I wanted, but I didn’t want the night to end without us having a conversation at least.
“Helen told me about your mother,” I started.
He stopped moving, and his eyes rose to mine. “Helen is my mother.”
“Of course.” I searched for words. “I wasn’t aware that your biological mother left.”
He chuckled. “Well, Daphne, it’s not the sort of thing I generally tell people I’m just having sex with.”
I drew in a short breath. “Look, I’m sorry for the way I spoke that night. Obviously, I was wrong, and you do know what it feels like to lose someone.”
“Hold on.” He gave me a puzzled look. “You’re sorry for the things you said because you found out a woman I barely remember abandoned me when I was four years old? Come the fuck on.”
He stood and went inside the house, taking the glassware with him. Well, that was that. My attempt at an apology had gone nowhere, and maybe it was for the best. What was the point of having a conversation with him anyway? If his pride was still hurt because I’d rejected the idea of dating him, there was nothing I could do about that.
I wasn’t going to change my mind and submit to any kind of commitment with him. I wasn’t even sure we could hook up again, because I wasn’t confident I could stay emotionally detached from him if we did.
And I couldn’t be emotionally attached—not to him, not to anyone, at least not yet. I hadn’t worked up to that part of my recovery yet. Jason had derailed me, and while he’d been right when he’d dismissed my self-imposed celibacy as just another wall I put around myself, I wasn’t ready to bring down all the walls yet.
So, I couldn’t be with him the way he’d wanted, and I couldn’t fuck him either, because I would likely grow to want him far more than I should.
I might as well go back to being celibate, I thought with a sigh, because somehow, he’d made it impossible for me to want anyone else.
The lake rippled, and the movement was illuminated by the moonlight. Insects made their night sounds, and somewhere not too far away, a bird was singing. It was the sort of beautiful night where no one should have been alone, but there I was.
The door to the house opened and closed, and Jason joined me again. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and now his arms were bare to the elbows. He sat and stretched his long legs out in front of him then closed his eyes.
I ogled him, gazing at his body and fighting the temptation to go over to him. I drew my legs up and turned back to the lake.
“It’s a beautiful night,” I said softly when the silence had stretched for far too long.
“It needs some music,” he said, chuckling dryly. “Or maybe poetry.”
“You like poetry?” I’d studied some poetry in college, but I didn’t take him for someone who liked stuff like that.
“Some,” he admitted with a shrug. “I took some courses back in school, poetry and classical mythology.” He looked at me. “And so it was with the god and the virgin: one with hope pursued, the other fled in fear.”
I frowned. “Ovid?” I’d been a mythology buff as a teenager, so I knew about Daphne and Apollo, but I’d never given much thought to the story of the lustful god and the nymph who turned herself into a tree to escape his advances.
“It seems fitting, doesn’t it? Except you’re not a virgin, and I’m not some god in the grip of uncontrollable lust.” His lips curved into a wry grin. “But you might as well have turned yourself into a tree for how creative you are in ensuring that nobody gets past your walls.”
Nobody had ever compared me with my mythological namesake before. “Those walls have always worked for me,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, you know what you want,” he said, his eyes on some faraway spot on the lake. “Whether you’re having casual sex, playing at celibacy, or soul-searching, there’s one constant: you’re alone, just the way you want.”
Alone, just the way I want—except I was no longer sure what I wanted. I knew I wanted him. I wanted him casually, but I also wanted him in more ways than that. I couldn’t explain it, and I didn’t want to face it.
“Funny thing,” he continued, “alone has always worked for me too, but that night, when you told me about your mother and being left alone with no one to call your own—I felt like I never wanted you to be alone again, not when I could be there for you.”
As he said the words, I realized I’d wanted to hear him say something like that to me since the first moment I laid eyes on him, and hearing it now, it felt like a dam had broken inside me. I felt vulnerable and exposed, but I didn’t want to push him away. I didn’t want to walk away. I wanted to let him into every single vulnerable part of me.
It wanted to break down my walls for him.
“But of course, you were right,” he said, laughing self-mockingly. “It was the sex clouding my mind, because there’s no actual reason in the world why I would prefer to be with you in a long-term relationship over zero-commitment, guilt-free sex.
It felt as if someone had splashed cold water on my face. My eyes stung, and I had to blink to keep them dry. “At least we’ve cleared up that you’re still the casual sex and hookups guy. Good thing I didn’t fall for your temporary change of heart.”
“Good thing,” he agreed. “You also got to ditch your celibacy and see it as the ineffective strategy it is for whatever you’re trying to achieve. You can go back to…how did you put it? The one extreme that has always worked for you.” He fixed his gaze on me. “How’s it been? Daphne. How many guys have had the pleasure of fucking you since that night?”
None.
Because I only want you.
“None of your business,” I retorted, getting up and walking to the edge of the patio.
I felt like I never wanted you to be alone again, not when I could be there for you.
I sighed. How could I ever forget that he had felt that way about me, even for a second? The night was getting colder, and a gust of wind blew past me. The fabric of my dress was thin enough that I felt the drop in temperature immediately. I rubbed my arms to keep them warm.
I heard Jason stand and come up behind me. My breath caught in anticipation, but he only draped a light shawl over my shoulders. His fingers trailed down my arms as he smoothed the length of the cotton, and I shivered.
“My mother keeps them out here in case it gets cold,” he explained.
He was standing so close I could feel his warm breath on my neck. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He was silent. Through the thin cotton, the pads of his fingers felt hot against my skin. I could feel the heat of his body behind me. If I leaned back even a little, I would be flush against him, and yet he made no move to leave.
He shifted his fingers lightly, trailing them along my arms. I closed my eyes, wanting him to continue. “Are you planning to lecture me some more about the walls I’ve built around myself?” I asked shakily.
He chuckled and lowered his hands. “No, I’m done analyzing you. I’m going for a walk—unless you’re open to fucking, of course.”
Zero-commitment, guilt-free sex.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe as red-hot arousal pooled between my thighs. “Jason…” My voice was weak.
“What?” he said in my ear. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
It was, but then again, it wasn�
��t. I didn’t have the words to explain, but as his hands moved to hitch up my dress, I decided it wasn’t necessary to explain it to myself or to him, not yet anyway, not when my whole body was anticipating his touch. He drew my dress up, his fingers tracing a heated trail along my thighs and hips. Then when the dress was bunched around my waist, he slid his hand into my panties.
I parted my legs just enough so he could explore my aching core. His fingers slid over my clit, making my entire body tingle. I was so wound up that my hips jerked with every caress.
“Always so fucking wet,” he whispered against my ear. He was seducing me with both his touch and his words, and I loved it. His other hand found my nipple pushing out against my dress, and he massaged it through the fabric.
I let out a low moan. He was still touching me between my legs, lightly and then a bit hard, then feather light again. The pleasure was becoming unbearable. I wanted to tear off my clothes and drag him down on the floor with me.
He drew on my nipple then squeezed my breast. “Have I told you that I love your breasts?” he murmured against my ear. “Best fucking pair of tits I’ve ever seen.” He continued to tease the sensitive flesh between my legs, and I bit back a moan as he slid two fingers into me, fingering me deeply while he rubbed my clit with the pad of his thumb.
I was walking on the thinnest of wires, about to explode and fall into ecstasy on either side. My body felt like it was crackling. My pussy clenched around his fingers, and I felt his tongue on a spot right under my ear.
He drew his fingers out then plunged them inside me again. My legs shook as pleasure built around my center. I felt like I was going to explode at any moment.
“Do you like this?”
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly.
“Good.” He drew out his fingers and spread them over my core, stroking me in slow circular motions. I gasped as pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo.
“Come for me, baby.”
I shattered, biting my lip to keep myself from screaming. I clutched his arms as my body tightened and then released with so much force, only his hands kept me on my feet. He steadied me, holding me flush against him as I caught my breath, then he drew his fingers out of my panties and slowly turned me around to face him.
