by MV Ellis
Emi shifted on the bench, prompting me to finally turn her way. As I did, I found her looking at me, seeking me out. I stared into her expressive copper eyes, and it was like the first time.
“It was hell. I was a physical and emotional wreck. I still am. Well, emotionally, anyway. But on top of all the pain and the fear, the overwhelming feelings were shame and guilt. I should’ve known better, and done better, but I didn’t. I have a lot to be ashamed of.”
I didn’t know what to say, which anyone who knew me would agree was rare. I could make flapping my trap an Olympic sport, but in listening to her speak and watching the anguish written across her face, I couldn’t think of a form of words that didn’t make me seem like a shallow dudebro.
The fact was, hearing her recount her experiences made me realize that was exactly what I was. I’d never been through anything even half as traumatic as the shit she’d dealt with.
Not counting the day I’d met her, I’d never been in fear for my life. Even then, if I was honest, I’d felt secure in the knowledge that there would be help on the way, and that the police could and would handle the situation. I was sure the momentary blip of doubt that popped into my mind before they took the guy down was nothing compared to the way Emi’d felt living with him.
The more I thought about it, the more it was clear what an easy life I’d had. Everything always just went my way. Most of the time without me even trying. School, sports, even graff and tatts—it had all just kind of fallen into my lap.
“I’m so sorry.” I was sorry she’d gone through the shit she had, and even more sorry that I didn’t know how to relate to her about it. I was sorry that those words were so totally lame and inadequate and didn’t even begin to remotely describe the depth of feeling I had for her.
I wanted to brush away the fat tears clinging to her lashes, threatening to fall. I wanted to offer her a hug and a shoulder to cry on. And I really fucking wanted to kiss her. It was an almost-overwhelming urge. But I didn’t move a muscle.
Despite our kiss on Friday, today, in the cold light of day, and with her in tears, doing anything other than listening to what she had to say would cross a line I had no business looking at, let alone stepping over.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve shown me more kindness than he or anyone else ever did. We’re total strangers, and you saved my life, at the same time risking your own.”
Is that what I am to her?
We may not have spent a long time together, but to me, the things that had happened in that time put our relationship on a much different level than strangers, or even just client and artist. That said, I wasn’t sure how we should describe our connection. I still knew next to nothing about her, though from what little I’d found out, I was hungry for more. In fact, I wanted to know everything.
“All the same, I am sorry you went through what you did.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m sorry I dragged you into my dirt and risked your life and everyone else’s.”
“I’m glad we met, regardless of the circumstances.” Although I’d had no plans to tell her that at that point. The words had just kind of fallen out of my mouth. I needed to do something before I made a total dick of myself.
“Are you really going to sit there and leave me to eat all these? You said you’d help me.”
She smiled, looking down at the selection available.
“Okay. Where shall I start? What’s good?”
“Honestly, it’s all delicious, but the key lime cheesecake is a great palate cleanser before diving into the richer stuff.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Her smile widened, going right up to her eyes that time. I loved the way they shimmered in the late-morning sun.
She plucked a small square of cheesecake and popped it into her mouth. I watched with amusement as the flavors hit her taste buds and she shuddered with pleasure, lowering her eyelids and tipping her head back. I felt uncomfortable watching as she chewed the mouthful, apparently lost in the taste sensation, mostly because my cock was hard as stone and squashed into my pants at an awkward angle. Despite my discomfort, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
When she came back down to earth, she met my gaze again but then looked away quickly, the pleasure on her face replaced by a guilty look.
“Sorry. It just tasted so good.”
It was true that Give eeffoC’s cakes were the closest thing I came to an orgasm with my clothes on, but I couldn’t understand why she would be sorry about showing her enjoyment.
“Don’t be. In fact, don’t be sorry for anything with me. No need to apologize so much.”
“Okay, so—” I quirked my eyebrow, and she caught herself before finishing the word. “I feel like I’ve done nothing but talk about myself. How rude of me.”
“Not at all.” I never wanted her to stop talking.
“You’re too kind, but it’s true. Do you mind if we even things up a little? Can I ask you something about yourself?”
Not what I had in mind. “Uh, sure. Shoot. I warn you though, I’m not very interesting.”
“Hmm…let me be the judge of that. So, is Spider your real name?”
“Ha! No. It’s Itsy, so Spider was a natural nickname.”
“Itsy?” She frowned. “That’s unusual. Is there a story there?”
I attempted to contain the chuckle trying to escape, and failed miserably.
“Sorry, that was mean. I was just yanking your chain. My name’s Christopher. When I was tiny, I was a climber. Even before I could walk, I was pulling myself up things—furniture, stairs, walls, you name it. I was that kid whose mom went to the bathroom for two minutes and came back to find them stuck on top of the tallest dresser in the house. True story. So someone started calling me Spider, and the name just stuck. Except with my father. He actually does call me Itsy, but he’s the only person.”
Her eyes lit up as I finished.
Speaking of my father, I glanced at my phone. I knew it hadn’t rung or pinged since I’d been with Emi, but I still checked for missed calls or messages just in case.
“Well, that’s cute as shit. Nice to meet you, Christopher. I’m Emi, but you knew that already.” She extended her hand, and I took it.
“You too, Emi. Oh, and speaking of names, is Emi short for something? Emmaline? Emmanuelle? Emmerson?”
“Nah, it’s just Emi. It’s a Mauritian thing. It’s quite a common name over there.”
I remembered her saying that on Friday.
“Oh, I see. It’s very pretty.” Just like you.
17
Emi
My cheeks heated at the compliment. So lame. What am I, twelve years old or something?
I turned to him, smiling.
“Thanks. I like—” I realized what was happening almost too late, but it was still soon enough to run through a gamut of thoughts and emotions. I wanted him to kiss me; that wasn’t in dispute. The fact was, I’d wanted that since he’d looked at me that first time like he knew my pain and wanted to help make it to go away. I’d sat in the chair while he branded me as Tommy’s, silently hoping for some schmaltzy Hollywood happy-ever-after ending where he was my prince and would scoop me up and carry me out of there, straight to his bed.
I was nothing if not stupidly optimistic, despite endless evidence telling me that those kinds of happy endings didn’t exist. Or if they did, they weren’t for people like me. People like me got stone-cold gritty reality, all day, every day.
I’d wanted him to kiss me on Friday too, although just like the first time, I knew I shouldn’t want any such thing. In my shock and panic at seeing him again, I’d let him because I’d been too wired to make myself resist.
In the cold light of day, it was a little different. I was calmer and more rational, I could think the situation through, and for a few short moments, I did exactly that. I weighed up my options, considering the pros and cons of each.
I decided to roll with whatever was happening between us. I gave myself that gi
ft, if only for a few seconds, before reality came back to bite me in the ass. For the next little while, at least, I could pretend I was that princess. The one I wrote about who lived happily ever after.
Spider reached out, placing his hand softly against my cheek. With questioning eyes, he hesitated, asking permission before going ahead. Apart from the fall of my eyelids, I kept still, waiting for him to make his move.
After what seemed like an eternity, he did, brushing his lips against mine. Such a light touch, but it was somehow heavy, stirring something deep within me, and awakening emotions I’d locked away years earlier. Sweet as it was, the feathery brush wasn’t enough. Not even close. I reached for his neck, pulling his mouth hard against mine, hungry and thirsty for him all at once. As our lips collided more forcefully, my body came alive with desire and pleasure. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced anything like it.
Spider’s hand moved to my neck, mimicking my movement and pulling me closer to him. I parted my lips, granting him access. As we explored each other’s mouths, my breathing quickened, tearing from my body in ragged gasps. Time moved in immeasurable chunks. I wasn’t sure if we’d been kissing for a minute, an hour, or a week. I just knew I wanted it to last forever.
No sooner had the thought entered my mind than Spider was pulling back, ending what we’d just started.
“I don’t think we should—”
Shit. I’d misunderstood. Embarrassment, shame, and regret swept over my body. Another humiliation to add to the list with Spider. I resolved to let this be the last one. I needed to stay away from him; it seemed to be the only way not to make a total fool of myself.
“I’m sorry. I assumed…” Ugh. He must have thought I was a desperate housewife, lunging at the first guy who showed me a passing interest.
“There you go apologizing again. I can tell it’s gonna be hard work helping you see you’re not always automatically in the wrong. I was going to say I don’t think we should do this here. I don’t want to put on a show, even if it is only for the ducks. I’ve heard they can be freaky as all hell. Rumor is they like to watch.” His smile rendered him even more beautiful, though I’d hardly thought it possible.
I ran through the words he was saying, trying to work out where he was leading.
“Hey, don’t look so worried. I’m just suggesting that maybe we should take this somewhere more comfortable. My apartment is a few blocks that way.” He jerked his thumb behind us. “If you wanted to. I mean… there’s no pressure.”
This was big. Huge, in fact. Pressure or not, going back to his place was a step I hadn’t considered, and something I hadn’t ever had to think about with anyone. I tried not to panic while I sorted through my thoughts and feelings. I failed.
“Hey, if you’re not into it, that’s totally cool. I was serious when I said no pressure.” His voice was soft and reassuring.
I was reminded of how well suited he was to his job with a bedside manner like that. So calm, easygoing, and caring. Hell, he’d been able to soothe me without words that first day in the studio, when I was scared to death. Yet when dealing with Tommy’s assholery, Spider had matched him beat for beat, every bit the alpha dog he needed to be to show Tommy who was boss. I’d loved watching that unfold. Loved how Spider was so different from Tommy in just about every way imaginable.
“Yeah, okay. I mean, I’d like to.”
“That’s fine. Here’s nice too. We can finish our picnic and still have a nice time. No biggie.”
I waited a beat, sure his mouth would catch up with his brain at some point.
“Wait. What did you just say?”
“I said yeah, let’s go. To your place, I mean.”
“Oh. Okay, sure. I didn’t….” He stood up quickly, offering his hand to help me to my feet. I took it, trying not to freak out. It was stupid after the way we’d just kissed, but somehow the feel of my hand nestled in his was even more personal and intimate. More so when, instead of releasing it, he interwove our fingers, threading his between mine.
“We done here?” He jerked his chin toward the leftover food.
“Yeah, I’m finished. Thanks.” There was no way I could eat or drink any more with the butterflies doing acrobatics in my stomach.
I guessed he felt the same, as he scooped up what we’d left with his free hand and dumped it in the nearby trash as we passed.
The five-minute walk through the streets of Brooklyn with him was one of the more surreal of my life. Not as surreal as going into a tattoo salon with a gun at my back, but definitely up there.
Spider chatted the entire way about this and that, though I barely registered most of what he was saying, wondering if he was always so talkative or if it was nerves at play. I dismissed the thought almost as soon as it popped into my head. What reason did he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one who had next to no experience outside of the person who’d almost broken them.
As we entered his brownstone, he carried on.
“Apologies before we get inside. My place isn’t the tidiest right now. If I’d known I was going to have company, I would’ve straightened things up before I left for work. Though I’m not like Zed—my sort-of boss. I don’t leave it looking uninhabited every day. Call it army brat rebellion or something, but I like it to feel like a home, not a barracks.”
I smiled, kind of glad he hadn’t had time to tidy. He was entirely too perfect; having a messy apartment would even things up and make him seem less like a god among men.
When we got inside, I looked around furtively, not wanting to stare, but still keen to drink in what info I could glean from my surroundings. I was actually a little disappointed. Sure, there was a dirty breakfast bowl on the kitchen counter, and a few items of clothing scattered here and there, but it didn’t exactly look like a frat house.
In fact, the place was pretty much as I would have imagined the Brooklyn bachelor pad of a hotshot tattooist. It was achingly hip—all distressed leather, brushed metal, and polished concrete, plus an open-concept living area featuring one exposed brick wall, one black one, and one covered in a huge graffiti mural.
“Wow, this is awesome. I love the way it kind of looks like lots of abstract shapes, but then when you scrunch your eyes, you can see it for what it is. It’s perfect for this space. Did you have it commissioned, or was it here when you moved in?”
He smiled sheepishly, and the butterflies that had just started to subside escaped their cages again, running riot in my stomach.
“I guess you could say I commissioned it. I did it.”
“What? Are you kidding me right now?” I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.
“Nah, not kidding. It’s one of mine. I was into graffiti long before I got into ink. Look.” He pointed to the bottom corner of the mural. “That’s me.”
“Ah, of course.” It made sense that his signature would be a cobweb, given his moniker. “You’re very talented.”
“Thank you.” As we’d been speaking, he’d closed the gap between us and was now standing right in front of me. “But I didn’t bring you here to show you my mural.”
I was stalling. I’d needed just a little more time to get my head around what we were about to do. I wasn’t sure I was ready. It had been over a year since the incident at the studio, and years before that of living through the harsh realities of life with Tommy. The truth was, though my body was still in the relationship up until the moment the police dragged Tommy away, my mind hadn’t been. I’d mentally checked out years earlier. Still, it felt weird even contemplating being with another guy. Weird, but good.
“I didn’t come here to see it either.” I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face, matching his broad grin.
“Well, what did you come here for, then?” His cheeky playfulness was just what I needed. I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d read me well, or if it was just the way he always was, but either way, it was perfect, just like him.
Not daring to answer in words
, I grabbed the bottom of my fitted white T-shirt, pulling it over my head in one sleek movement. My smile grew even bigger hearing Spider’s breath catch, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he watched my hands working the front clasp of my bra.
“Really?” He arched one eyebrow as he dragged his gaze back up to meet mine.
I nodded.
He tugged his own T-shirt off the same way I had mine. Holy shit. I could tell he was built even with his shirt on, but that didn’t prepare me for the expanse of smooth, tan, tattoo-covered skin stretched over a body like that. He was crazy hot.
“Yeah.” I reached out and stroked his chest, liking the way he felt even more than the way he looked. His skin was the color of honey and smooth as butter. I moved closer, planting a spattering of gentle kisses across his chest and toward his V. He guided me back upward, but not before I caught sight of the bulge in his pants. I met his eyes again, smiling as he bent down toward me. I rose on my tiptoes to help close the gap between us. He was so tall.
He pressed his mouth to mine with none of the gentleness of before, roughly assaulting my lips like he was in a hurry. I opened my mouth, allowing him inside, enjoying the way he took command. I relished the newness of it all. Loved exploring his body and having him explore mine. It’d been a long time since I’d shared a first with anyone, built something new, fresh, and exciting. The thought sent a thrill through me.
He pulled his mouth back from mine, and I immediately wished he hadn’t.
“So there’s another one of these in the bedroom.” He dipped his head in the direction of the mural. “Wanna see it?”
I smiled big, liking that he was lightening the situation a little. I didn’t know if he could sense my nerves or hesitation, but the fact that he wasn’t taking himself too seriously was a relief. I’d had enough of guys doing that to last me a lifetime.
18
