by Raquel Belle
“Ah, so the first thing you go do is ghost me and fuck someone else. That doesn’t lead me to believe you’ll be a really mature partner long-term, Rob.”
“I know. It was stupid. I feel stupid, which is why I needed you to know.”
“I can’t do this,” I say, walking away from him.
He grabs my arm and pulls me back, forcing me to look at him through my tears. “Just talk to me, Hope,” he says.
“What is there to say? I don’t want to mess up our friendship? I needed release, and I used you to get it? I don’t know if I want to be in a relationship with you like this?”
I don’t say the next one out loud: I kissed Tate McCullough, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
My friend looks crestfallen. “Did you mean all of that?”
I nod, wiping away the tears that fall down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m just really confused.”
Rob puts his hands on my face and kisses me. It’s soft and sweet. I let myself close my eyes and lean into it.
When he pulls away, he says, “We can be good for each other. Forget all the bullshit. Forget Alex. Forget being careful and protecting our friendship. I love you, Hope. Just give it a chance. Give it a chance, and if it doesn’t work, then at least we can’t sit around regretting that we didn’t try.”
I don’t have an argument for this, so I just nod and he takes my hand, leading me back to the house.
As we eat a dinner of hummus, raw spinach, chopped up bell peppers, and bagels—not bad, coming from two young children, honestly—it’s on the tip of my tongue. I should tell him. Rob deserves to know that I kissed Tate, that it was my unguarded moment with Tate that fueled our experience together. If I’m going to give this thing with my best friend a fighting chance, we can’t start it with something like this between us.
That night, after we’ve put the kids to bed, Rob leads me to the bedroom. He strips me to nothing, and spends an hour massaging every part of my body. On my stomach, oiled and feeling far more relaxed than I deserve, he dips his hand between my legs, massaging my most sensitive parts. I moan and lift my rear end a bit giving him access. He rubs and teases me until I’m nearly frenzied. I can hardly breathe as the pressure builds. When I feel his breath between my legs, his tongue exploring, I lose it.
“Fuck me, Robbie,” I moan. Some kind of nonsensical begging comes out of me. “Please. Please. Fuck. Please. I need it.”
He flips me over to my back. I’m hurting, so close, and dripping with want. He smiles, rakish, and holds his erection in his hand. He pumps up and down, those beautiful hands massaging that beautiful penis. I watch for a while, my hips pumping of their own accord.
I open my mouth, and invitation, and he straddles me, pumping himself into my mouth. I lick and suck, graze my teeth on his shaft. He moans and says my name. I suck and suck and finally feel the rush of warm, salty fluid as it coats my throat.
He pulls out and slips between my legs, pulling me roughly toward him, my hips in the air as his fingers enter me, his tongue on my clit. His fingers pound into me as he assaults me with his mouth. There’s pain and building and exquisite pleasure as I ride the waves of an orgasm. I push against him, muscles straining as I release again and again, my clit pulsating with aftershocks.
When I still, he pulls away, slipping his erect cock inside of me. He’s slow, gentle, as he fucks me, kissing my breasts, nipping my skin, rolling his talented tongue along my neck.
Later, we lay wrapped up in one another, my head on his chest, his legs covering mine. He strokes my skin, and it erupts in gooseflesh.
Full and sated, my nether regions are engorged and sensitive. He reaches down and rubs his fingertips along my slit, so that I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Now that I have you, I’ll never leave you unsatisfied,” he whispers. “I can’t stop touching you.”
I moan and feel myself riding his fingers once more. God, how can he make my body react like this?
We make love again before falling asleep.
When we wake, the kids are staring at us.
Chapter Four
“Mommy, did Uncle Rob have a sleepover?” Eric asks.
Rob has carefully lowered himself further down the bed, under the covers. We’re both naked. I never, ever sleep naked. Because children. I literally want Freddie Krueger to suck me through the bed to some other nightmare, because this real life thing isn’t working for me at all right now.
“He did,” I say, feeling Rob’s body shake with laughter under the covers. “Can you guys go let Rigby out?”
Eric shrugs and says, “Sure,” but Amy’s got her arms folded over her chest, eyes narrowed.
“Honey, go help Eric get the leash on. We can talk later if you have questions,” I say.
She turns and goes, thankfully. When we hear the kids and dog head outside, Rob finally emerges from the covers, letting out a gust-busting laugh.
“Oh holy hell,” he says. “I was not expecting an audience this morning.”
“I wasn’t ready for this,” I say. “I’m not ready to explain this to them.”
“Well, we can explain it together.”
I roll over and force myself out of bed. As I search around the room for a t-shirt and some sweatpants to throw on, I become acutely aware that Rob is staring at me.
“What?” I ask, crinkling my nose at him.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
“Shut up. I feel awkward enough.”
He chuckles. “Listen, lady, if I’m gonna be your man, you’re gonna have to get used to compliments.”
I make a face. “No I don’t. Just act normal.”
He stands and stretches. I admire his lean, muscular frame. He is attractive, always has been. I’ve never had a problem feeling sexually attracted to him. I’ve never even had a problem trusting or caring for him. I do. I care for him deeply. But love? In love? I’m still on the fence. And I want to try. I owe it to him to try.
He dresses quickly and makes his way over to me, wrapping his arms around me. I lean into him, and he kisses the top of my head before padding away toward the kitchen.
***
There are many things I appreciate about Rob. At the top of the list, he’s a steady force in my life, he never judges me, and he knows when I need space.
Today, though, he won’t leave. He’s taken a shower, had breakfast, and helped Eric pull together his baseball gear. He insists on driving to the ball field together. As a family. Like we’re a family. And I haven’t had a minute to talk with the kids.
Is it weird? I mean, he’s a fixture in our lives. He’s always around, always supportive. He comes to games all the time. It’s not weird, right?
So why do I feel like I might start hyperventilating at any moment?
I wander off at one point between innings to grab a bottle of water from the concession stand. Meredith follows me after boring holes into us for the first three innings of the game.
“What’s up with you and hot artist man?”
I sigh. “Mer—seriously, I cannot take it. We slept together again, and the kids came in this morning to find us naked in bed together. It was my worst nightmare. And now Rob won’t go away. I need space and he’s acting like we’re one big, happy family.”
“He loves you,” she says, shrugging. “But hey, you’re all gettin’ it and stuff. Congrats.”
I puff out my cheeks. “I’m not ready for this kind of commitment.”
“Well get ready,” she says. “He’s gorgeous and awesome. Don’t let him get away.”
I rub my eyes. “Wah ... It’s so stressful.”
Meredith rolls her eyes. “Oh, yes, so stressful having a man who looks like that wanting to satisfy your every sexual need. Giving you orgasms. Loving you. Being there for you and your kids. Just horrible, I tell you.”
“I know. I’m being an ass. You’re right. I’m shutting up now and appreciating this person that I care about.”
I wander back to the gam
e. Rob takes my hand.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just … overwhelmed … I guess. Tired.”
“I get it,” he says.
I’m not sure he does.
***
When the doorbell rings, my stomach sinks. I totally forgot about the Big Brothers Big Sisters thing.
“Crap, crap, crap,” I say from my spot at the stove. I’m stirring mac and cheese for the kids’ lunch. “I forgot, Eric, you’re going with a big brother for an outing. Mr. McCullough thought you might need a regular, male figure in your life.” I roll my eyes.
Eric makes a questioning sound.
“What am I, chopped liver?” Rob asks.
Amy says, “I wonder who it is?” and bounds off to answer the door.
A moment later, she skips back in, her face half-scrunched up like she might laugh. Trailing behind her? Tate McCullough.
He looks larger than life standing in my little kitchen.
I glance around, panicked. I haven’t cleaned the house yet this weekend.
Does it smell like dog in here?
Did I bother to brush my hair at all today?
Holy crap, Rob is here, too.
As I’m processing my total panic, Rob gets up and shakes Tate’s hand.
“Tate McCullough.”
“Rob Duncan. I thought some big brother type was coming?”
“I am the big brother type,” Tate says. “I volunteer for BBBS, and they were concerned that many of their regular college-aged guys were getting ready to bolt from campus at the end of the semester. I volunteered to work with Eric.”
“Work with him on what?” Rob asks.
“Well, just hanging out, having some one-on-one guy time. It should be fun. And who are you, again?”
Tate’s eyes are narrowed, his head tilted. He’s doing that judgmental arm-folding thing. I want to punch him.
“I’m Hope’s boyfriend,” Rob says.
Amy inhales sharply.
Tate looks from Rob to Amy to me. He stares at me as he says, “I wasn’t aware Hope had a boyfriend.”
“She doesn’t,” Amy says. “This is our Uncle Rob.”
“You’re their … uncle?” Tate asks.
“No. Hope and I are not related. That’s just what the kids call me.”
Tate’s expression is confused, and amused, and he obviously senses that something weird is happening because he looks from me to Rob and back to me again and says, “I guess I’m just not in the know about your weird life, Hope.”
Rob scoffs. “Why would you be? You hardly know her. And from what I understand, you mostly serve to make her life a living hell. I can’t believe you’d bother to show up here and act like you’re going to come save the day by being a surrogate father to a kid you hardly even like.”
“You don’t like me, Mr. Tate?” Eric asks.
I pull him into my arms, as his lip starts to quiver. “Tate, maybe you should go.”
Tate’s still planted like a tree. “I came here to be helpful. I do like Eric, I just think he needs a positive, male influence. I’m happy to be that influence.”
“I’m a positive, male influence,” Rob says. “I’ve known these kids since they were born.”
“But you are not, in fact, their father?” Tate says.
“What the hell does that matter?” Rob asks. “Their father was a dirt bag. I’ve been here every step of the way for these kids. You don’t get to come in and judge me, or Hope, like you know us. Now why don’t you do as Hope asked and leave?”
There was a lot of “us” in that statement, and I’m having a hard time with both of these men right now.
I hand a crying Eric to Rob and say, “Tate, let’s talk outside. Rob, finish up the kids’ lunch, please? I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t like you being alone with this jerk,” Rob says.
“I assure you, I can handle it,” I say.
I head for the door, Tate on my heels.
When we get outside, Tate says, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business if I’m kissing you.”
“That won’t be happening again. It was a mistake,” I say.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” I say. “I don’t know what it was about, but I told you, I don’t like you that much. I certainly don’t want to kiss you.”
He’s too close. He looks down at me and smirks.
Crap, why’s he got to be so attractive? I don’t like muscle-y, military dudes. I like blonde, artist types. Right?
“I think you liked kissing me just fine,” he says, leaning in. There’s a defiant, arrogant glint in his eyes.
“I’m going to punch you right in the teeth, if you don’t back off,” I say, giving him a razor-sharp smile. “Now why the hell would you think it would be okay to just show up here with no warning? Why would I let Eric go anywhere with you?”
“You accepted a one o’clock appointment for a BBBS mentor to get Eric for the afternoon, did you not?”
“I did, but …”
“No ‘buts,’” he says. “I’m a trained, vetted, background-checked, BBBS mentor. I volunteered to work with Eric. He’ll be safe in my care, and I’m ninety-nine-percent positive he’ll have a good time.”
“You should have told me it would be you,” I say.
“You would have said ‘no.’”
“Damn right I would have! And I’m saying ‘no’ now!”
He growls. It’s sexy, and I feel it in between my legs. Traitorous body.
“Hope, I don’t know what the heck is going on in there with that guy, but I do know this: he’s not your boyfriend.”
“What does that have to do with Eric?” I ask.
“Admit he’s not your boyfriend, and I’ll leave. For now. And when that guy is gone, and you can have a rational, real-deal conversation, then we’ll talk again and figure this all out.”
My nostrils flare, and I let out a huge, annoyed sigh. “He’s kind of my boyfriend. He’s been my best friend for years, since college. This—whatever it is—is new. It’s new, like last night new.”
“Like, I kissed Tate McCullough last week, and now I’m pretending to be into my best friend so that I don’t have to process what that kiss meant?” Tate says, his grin overconfident.
“Fuck you, Tate,” I say.
He leans in so that his lips are at my ear. “I’d love to.”
“Leave,” I say.
He laughs. “Okay, Hope, I’ll leave. But we’re going to have a conversation about this. Mark my words.”
I roll my eyes.
As I watch him pull away in his black Mustang (yes, he drives a muscle car because he is a hot, hot cliché of a man), I feel my cheeks burning. Truth? My nether regions are burning because there is a whole lotta pent-up sexual tension happening between me and Tate all of the sudden.
As I stomp back inside, Rob attacks me from the doorway. He pushes against the front door, his mouth on mine, possessive.
“I’d fuck you right here, right now, if the kids weren’t in the other room,” he whispers.
“I’d let you, but not before I tell you to stop being a caveman,” I whisper back.
“I can go fast,” he says, his erection hard beneath his jeans.
“Bathroom,” I say.
We tiptoe toward the bathroom, locking the door. I lift the short, cotton skirt I’m wearing as he unzips his pants, springing free. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, impaling me, pumping hard, hard, hard as I brace myself on the sink.
Already hot and bothered, it takes no time at all for me to release, and he follows right after. He pulls me to him, breathing heavily.
“I told you, Hope. You’re mine and there’s no going back. We crossed the line.”
We did, I think.
He slips out of me and helps me to my feet. I spend a second cleaning myself up. “You should head home for a bit. I need
some time with the kids.”
His jaw goes tight, twitches. I can tell he doesn’t like this, but he finally nods, his blue eyes hard and accusatory.
I wander out to the kitchen. The kids are finishing their food. Eric asks for more. I hear the door slam and Rob’s car start.
Amy finally asks, “What’s going on with you and Uncle Rob?”
I chew on my lip for a minute. “It’s complicated. But you know he’s not actually your uncle, right? He’s not my brother. He’s just a friend.”
“Duh, Mom,” Amy says.
“Okay, well, Rob’s always been someone I care about, and we’ve decided to try to see if there’s more than friendship to our relationship.”
“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” Eric asks, his mouth full of pasta.
“Yes, just like that,” I say. “Is that okay with you guys?”
“Fine with me,” Eric says.
Amy scrutinizes me for a minute. “I guess so. He’s always been around anyway, like a dad.”
I give her a sad smile. “He has been like a dad. He’s a good man.”
“Did Mr. Tate leave?” Eric asks.
I nod. “I thought it would be a college student or something. Frankly, Tate suggested it, and I barely said ‘yes’ anyway. I think you get plenty of dude-time with Rob.”
“Hmm,” Eric grunts. “I woulda liked to hang out with him, I think.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you hated him.”
“You hate him, Mommy,” Eric says. “I think he’s kind of fun.”
“Eric’s right,” Amy says. “We know him better than you do. He’s not that bad.”
Excuse me, I need to peel my jaw off the floor.
“I thought …”
“We know what you think, Mom,” Amy says. “You talk about him all the time.”
My face goes hot. “Not all the time …”
“Can you ask him to come another time?” Eric asks.
“I don’t know, bud. Maybe. It’s complicated.”
The conversation drops, but as I make the way through the remainder of the day, all I can think about is Tate. Do I really talk about him a lot? I know he’s right, of course, about Rob. I only started this thing because I was worked up. I came home after kissing Tate, needing a release, and I let Rob provide it because I trust him. I care for him, and I love him. He’s been more a father figure to my kids than their real father. Meredith is right, he’s a total catch, and I’d be stupid not to follow through with him.
