Another Round

by Belaire, Nikki

  “God, these are so good.”

  Fuck me if she just moaned. Unaware how sexy she is and how tempted I am. “Glad you like them.”

  A ginger woman about my age slides in next to her. Waving to me and giving her a huge smile. “I’m really glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it or not.”

  Evie swallows down her bite, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it would work out, but Andy was free, so we decided to come.”

  We.

  This ‘we’ feels a whole hell of a lot different than before when she reaches over and entwines her hand with mine.

  The lady launches into an agitated discourse about a schedule for some training that Evie seems to understand and discusses in depth. While the only thing I can focus on is our fingers coupled together. Fucking with my head when she doesn’t let me go.

  The first time she’s ever touched me besides a friendly hug. The first time she’s ever been possessive. The first time she’s ever made me consider that maybe she might actually feel what I feel.

  More of her co-workers stop by and chat. Sometimes talking about projects and deadlines, but mostly about her. A little about me as I wait beside her. Pride swells inside me from how popular she is. How much they must like her to seek her out. All the while she never releases her grip on me. I’m a willing prisoner held in place by a delicate grip that occasionally tightens when she introduces or mentions me.

  After a few hours the party winds down, with only about twenty people left outside besides us. She turns to me and smiles. Impossible to believe she’s even more beautiful than the first time I saw her with the joy radiating in her expression.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  Hell yes. “Whenever you are love.”

  I follow her lead and stand when she does. Risking everything to keep ahold of her hand. Thanking the holy angels above that she lets me.

  Patrick’s nowhere around that I can see which definitely doesn’t disappoint me. We can avoid good-byes that linger too long and promises to get together again that we don’t mean so I can have her all to myself again. Sand scrapes under her glittery sandals when we step from the path to the asphalt and wind through the vehicles parked on each side of his curved driveway. Once I assist her with climbing inside my SUV, I stride around to my side and take her hand again as soon as I drop into the seat. Wrong or right, we aren’t going backward. “Did you have a good time?”

  She stretches back against the black leather and rests her head on the cushion. Drowsy but seemingly content.

  “Yes, I had a fabulous time. It was so different than the parties I’m used to.”

  “Is ‘different’ better?”

  “Hell yes. At school, they were just drunk fests with lots of stupid drama. This felt like where I belong. Where I want to be. Who I want to be.”

  I’m surprised yet pleased from the solemnity of her tone. Gratified from the earnestness of her proclamation from the recognition. “Then I guess the life altering journey has occurred.”

  Her carefree laugh implies she thinks I’m joking. But I’m actually sincere. The realization is proof of her maturity. Evidence her perspective of the world is expanding beyond her previously constrained existence.

  “I guess so…”

  Her thoughtful gaze remains on me as I navigate the narrow roads. Blanketed in thick darkness cut only by the light of my headlamps. The contemplation in her inquisitive eyes piercing enough I can’t stop myself from glancing over at her to catch a glimpse of her stunning face lingering on mine.

  “…and I’m glad.”

  My heart thuds hard in my chest from the implication of more than just outgrowing university parties. “Me too.”

  She smiles and settles back again. Satisfied and tranquil. As if we both understand the significance. Agree to the same connotation. Realize the same conclusion. Even though I really have no idea what the hell she means since I know I want something she doesn’t need. She’s barely an adult, my friend’s daughter, my job assignment, yet I want her to be mine.

  I unwrap my fingers from hers, pretending I need both hands to steer into a sharp turn. Perplexity frowns her forehead when I keep my grip on the wheel and my eyes on the windshield. Giving her mixed signals like an arsehole. Because I am an arsehole. Especially when she keeps her arm resting between our seats. Waiting for me to hold her again and I don’t. I can’t.

  Mercifully silent the rest of the thirty minutes back home. Not that I don’t love hearing her talk. I’m just too afraid she’ll ask me questions I shouldn’t answer. Once we arrive, I clutch her elbow after I help her out of the vehicle and guide her upstairs. Innocuous, professional, and appropriate. Everything I should’ve been all along.

  Relief floods my clenched muscles once we reach the landing. Only a few more feet, and she’ll be inside her apartment. Safe from danger. Safe from me. She pauses at the door and looks up. Hope bubbling in her expression where there shouldn’t be any. I shouldn’t have created any.

  “Wait just a second. I’ll be right back.”

  This isn’t good. I should tell her good night and lock the door behind her. Walk away literally and figuratively. Instead, I stand here waiting once again. Not impatient or irritated. Because I know she’s coming back, and she’s always well worth the wait.

  Of course she’s fucking gorgeous when she does. A sparkling smile, glowing with joy and mischief, grows with each step closer.

  “What are you up to trouble?”

  She holds up the heavy pink blanket draped over her bent arm. “Want to be naughty with me?”

  Impossible to resist with her eyebrow twerking up in challenge, I nod automatically. Without thought or reason for what’s right or logical or decent. My turn to be curious as to what she’s implying. She points to the silver metal ladder attached to the wall at the end of the corridor.

  “Let’s go up on the roof and look at the stars again.”

  Beyond wrong, but I can’t seem to tell her no with the excitement brewing in her expression as she flexes on her feet. Eager to climb up. Keen to learn more. “All right. For a little bit.”

  I’d kill a man for keeping me from enjoying the ecstasy radiating in her from my agreement. As usual, she practically runs to the narrow access and I definitely have to run to catch up. I allow her to ascend the first three rungs before I scramble behind her. Sheathing her small body to mine to keep her from falling if she loses her grip. Our ascension is quick which is a blessing since I can’t think straight with her captured between my arms. Fighting against the overwhelming need to touch her more.

  Adorable when she turns around after stepping onto the concrete and offers me her hand. Unwilling to offend her by declining her unnecessary assistance, I accept and squeeze her fingers in appreciation. But let go as soon as I’m up. Much to her dismay if the faltering grin is any indication.

  Picking a spot in the middle, she billows the bedspread across the surprisingly dry and clean surface and kneels down to smooth the wrinkles. I sit beside her. Spreading my legs in front of me and crossing my feet at the ankles. Attempting to keep a virtual barrier between us as she crawls closer to me once she finishes her efforts.

  She lays back on the cover. Silky hair splayed around her. Longer than when she first arrived since she hasn’t found a salon yet that she likes. Fucking crazy that I know this kind of personal girly stuff, but since she tells me everything, I know everything.

  Except what she’s thinking right now. As she looks at me, rather than the dark expanse above us. Her soft gaze studies me, contemplative and inquisitive.

  “Will you show me some more constellations?”

  I have no choice. I have to lie down with her because how in the hell can I deny her request. As soon as my back hits the fabric, she scooches closer and curls onto her side. Friendly and innocent resting her head on my shoulder. Until she tucks her face into my neck.

  Inhales my scent with a deep breath.

  Fists my shirt with
her small fingers.

  Whispers my name with a needy murmur.

  Hardens my cock with no effort at all.

  Fuck.

  “What are you doing?”

  Barely able to get the words out, my voice rasps with the same desire that she conveys with her actions.

  “I don’t know.”

  Then we shouldn’t be doing this. Not if she’s as terrified as I am that we’ve gone too far. We can’t go back. We can’t undo what we’ve done.

  Obvious she doesn’t agree. Not with her delicate hand cupping my face. I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t resist and look down at her. So fucking perfect staring back up with a longing that mimics my own. Jesus.

  I’m so fucking weak. I push it. Push her to see if she really wants this. Wants me. I roll over, pinning her underneath me. Raising up on my forearms to keep from crushing her. “You really are trouble.”

  That accusation makes her grin. And caress her fingers over my short hair. And rise up to kiss me. Gentle and tentative and soft. Everything I’m not. But somehow I restrain myself and let her lead with tender brushes of her lips.

  “I know.”

  She pulls back, smiling up at me. My cheeks fill her dainty palms from me smiling back down at her. Behaving like the gentleman she deserves and expects and knows. Tamping down the beast roaring inside me from the proximity of my hungry dick nestled between her legs. From the heat engulfing me with her trapped beneath me with no escape. From every inch of her body molding to mine without hesitation or fear.

  “You are too.”

  That I am. And, it’s unfair to her. I remain motionless. My question answered that she’s not ready. She can’t handle me or what I want to do with her.

  Lucky that our size difference keeps my rock-hard cock shoved against the concrete rather than her pussy. I dip down and kiss her cheek. Chaste and brief before I roll onto my back again. Ending what started between us in the kindest way possible.

  Seemingly satisfied with my restrained demeanor, she sighs and snuggles into me. Preventing me from hurting her. Keeping me from setting things straight between us. Tonight anyway. Tomorrow we’ll both face the truth that we’re nothing more than friends and never will be anything else. Until then, I’ll do what we came up here to do and point out the shapes hiding in the sky. Just like I’m hiding who I am and how I really feel.

  Last night was a huge mistake.

  Today is even worse.

  There’s no denying I am a complete and total bastard. After I swore I would tell her the truth, I make excuses and delay being honest with her. Lying to myself that I’ll talk to her after we work out, after we eat breakfast, after we load up the car for our impromptu trip. Now she’s joyfully chatting and laughing beside me, and I still haven’t said a damn word.

  But she’s so excited, I refuse to ruin her experience of visiting a real working farm for the first time. Her slender leg jiggles up and down next to mine as we bump and knock together from every rut and hole that the wheels seem to find on our way to the fields. One hand clutches the basket while the other one rests on my thigh. For balance of course. Otherwise, she’ll topple over on this rickety wagon. That’s why I keep my arm wrapped around her shoulder too. Resting her against the wooden rail to keep her safe.

  Once we stop, she hops up and scrambles off the edge. Jumping onto the dirt path without hesitation. Not waiting for me like she knows she should. Following instead the direction of the driver to start picking at the far end of the row and work your way back to the trail.

  At least she remembers to pause for me to do a quick inspection across the pasture. Acting as if I’m stretching out my back while I scan all the other guests around us. Mainly families with children shrieking and running and crushing the plants under their tiny feet while their parents attempt to protect the harvest from their unintentional mistreatment.

  “Come on slow poke.”

  Well then I guess she’s not very patient after all. Almost as bad as the little kids. “Strawberries aren’t going anywhere trouble.”

  She’s beautiful when she pretends to pout. Almost glowing in the abundant morning light. Sun glistening on the caramel—not blond as she so sternly corrected me—streaks in her hair.

  After we walk about sixty feet, she crouches down. Tugging an enormous berry from a dense cluster of bushes and shoving the fruit between her lips.

  “I’ve never eaten anything right off the vine before. They’re so sweet.”

  Two in the basket, one in her mouth. The same pattern over and over until an old man, worn from work and weather, hustles over as fast as his stooped body allows.

  “No eating before paying.”

  Wagging his spindly finger, he grunts and points to a small white sign. Tucked next to the hay bales, framed by shepherd’s hooks adorned with hanging plants overflowing with purple and pink flowers, to designate a photo opportunity.

  We kindly ask no sampling.

  Nothing kind about his request, yet she takes his brusque reprimand in stride. Nodding and owning up to her mistake.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Another grumble reverberates under his breath, but he seems satisfied with her compliance and lumbers back to his bench. Once he drops down to the planks, marred by flaking red paint, I stoop beside her and give her a needling elbow to the ribs. “You almost got us arrested, trouble.”

  She giggles but keeps her focus on her job. Precise fingers nimbly parting the drooping leaves and harvesting the abundant crop clustered underneath.

  “I’m pretty sure we could outrun the farm police.”

  “You could, but I don’t know about me.”

  “I’d never leave you behind.” Her hand gingerly pats my knee a few inches from her leg while she meets my gaze. Serious and sincere despite my teasing tone. “I swear.”

  “Thanks. You either.” I lean sideways, gently bumping into her shoulder and placing a quick peck on her forehead, before I stand again. Too much risk for me to be in that vulnerable position. Or even worse for me to be distracted by her. Any more than I already am.

  “I saw a sign at the entrance that said blueberries and peaches will be in next. We’ll have to come back and get those too. Then I’m going to make you a pie.”

  Now I really am a wanker from the emotion her remark stirs in me. Something so comfortable and enticing about the idea of her baking for me. Of wanting to feed me. “Do you even know how to make pie?”

  “Nope, but I’m going to learn, and it’s going to be awesome.”

  I love how definitive she is. Nothing wrong with hard work or confidence. “I’m sure it will be.”

  “Do you think that’s enough?” She slowly rises, sliding her palms down her thighs to release the tightness from squatting for so long. Reminding me how much I despise the short white dress she wears that shows off way too much of her magnificent legs. “The lady said this holds about four quarts.”

  Heaped well above the rim, strawberries roll down the mound and drop over the sides when she lifts the carrier for me to see her bounty. “I think that’s plenty.”

  She frowns in uncertainty but finally nods. “I guess we can always come back. I don’t…”

  Deep guitar chords resonate from the direction of the winery, stealing her words and quashing her debate as she listens. “Oh! The band is starting.” Small fingers curl around mine, and she tugs me forward. Enthusiasm making up for her lack of strength in moving my body. “Let’s go check it out.”

  I allow her to pull me along. Smiling to myself from the trail of fruit she leaves in her wake as she hurries back to the wagon. Luckily the old man is distracted chastising someone else and fails to notice her transgression. We’re safe a little longer.

  Forced to release me to climb up, I make sure she can’t hold my hand again. Situating her with the container on her lap and my arm resting behind her. Reminding myself we’re not on a date. We’re not a couple. We’re not anything more than employee and boss.

&nb
sp; She doesn’t seem to notice the distance I try to build between us. Tucking herself into my side like always. Her delicate body pulsing in time to the notes wafting through the breeze.

  “I know it’s retro, but this is one of my favorite songs.”

  Retro. Damn, that makes me feel old. “How do you even know it? You weren’t even born yet when it came out.”

  “My mom. I love to listen to all of the music from when she was still recording.”

  Well at least we can have that in common. Once we’re back to the farmer’s market, I hold the basket and offer my arm to help her down and guide her to the cashier. Earning the infamous eyebrow raise when she insists on paying for the produce in her belly as well as in her hands since, according to her, it was her idea and her treat. Although I disagree, I’m impressed she’s forging her own path and not letting me always take care of her. Despite how much it’s ingrained in me and I want to.

  Seventeen dollars later, which means she paid a whole hell of a lot for the atmosphere since she did all the work gathering and lugging the fruit back, she’s smiling and ready to head to the winery. We walk across the black pavers, past the ice cream stand, to the café. Perusing the offerings with the scent of roasting garlic making my stomach growl.

  “Do you want to try this one?”

  She holds out a semi-dry white for me to inspect. The blue label spackled with bright yellow streaks. “Whatever you want, love. I’m not having any this time.”

  Pink dots her cheeks and she cocks out her hip, balling her free hand into a fist against her side. “You always make me feel like a lush.”

  I raise my shoulders and tilt my head, pinching my face in agreement. Implying I think she is with my sharp intake of breath. “Well…”

  “Hey!”

  Hopefully my smile reveals the truth. “I’m kidding. You’re at a winery so you should drink some wine.”

  “Okay.”

  Her frown conflicts with her verbal agreement, and she sets the bottle back inside the chiller. Guilt floods through me, so I grab the Riesling and march up to the register with her on my heels. “We’ll take this please plus the chicken alfredo flat bread pizza.”