by Noelle Adams
He waited, but there was still no answer. He banged on the door again. “Marissa, are you all right? Let me in.”
Sweating from his hurried journey over and breathless from running up her building’s stairs, Caleb tried to compose himself.
He had reacted strangely to the realization of his absentmindedness.
This wasn’t really a crisis situation, and yet he had instinctively acted as if it were. Marissa was an adult and was perfectly capable of dealing with things on her own. Of course, he should have been there for her today, but…
…but why the hell wasn’t she opening the door?
Ignoring the nagging thought that she might be avoiding him on purpose, he pulled out his key and let himself in.
Caleb glanced around the entry hall. Empty. Looked into the kitchen and main living area. All empty.
His heart, which had finally made its way back from his belly to his chest, was starting to inch its way up into his throat.
Turning around sharply, he made his way back to her bedroom.
It was empty too.
“Marissa!” he roared. Where the hell was she?
“Damn it, Caleb! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
He whirled around and saw her emerging from the bathroom, her hair sopping wet and a bathrobe covering her damp skin. Her eyes were red and a little swollen though.
She’d definitely been crying earlier.
“I was in the shower,” she explained, rubbing at her hair with a thick towel. “Is something wrong? You look all fight-or-flighty.”
His throat relaxed enough for him to take in air, so he tried to even out his breathing. “I’m fine. I just…” Now that he was here, he wasn’t quite sure what to say.
She shifted from leg to leg, looking a little awkward herself. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to practice.”
“I’m sorry, Marissa. I just remembered what today is.”
She tried to smile, and she tried to nod. But her face kind of crumpled instead. “Yeah. But I’m okay. You didn’t have to come running over. It’s been a year after all.” Her voice started to break, so she paused to clear her throat. She was unconsciously twisting the towel in her hands. “If you have to practice, you don’t have to—”
Caleb stepped over and gently removed the towel from her frantic grip. He dropped it onto the floor. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here for you before.”
For some reason, that was what broke her control. She tried for a minute to stifle the sobs with her hands, but she wasn’t remotely successful. Then she reached out for him, grabbed at his waist blindly, and buried her face in his shirt.
This was why he had come. This was how she needed him today. So he tried to fight back the rising anxiety and discomfort as she wept into his chest. He put his arms around her—rather stiffly—but she didn’t appear to notice how tense he was. Her soft little body clung to his desperately. Unselfconsciously. Trustingly.
Caleb really didn’t like it.
He knew he was being selfish, but he hated the way this made him feel. His throat was constricted. There was a strange ache in his chest, and his stomach felt heavy and slightly ill.
He wasn’t any good at this. How was he supposed to comfort her? He didn’t have a clue about what to say. Since he didn’t have any words to offer, he tried rubbing her back, but that seemed to make things worse. As soon as he started, her sobs became even more urgent.
His head hurt. And his throat hurt. And his chest hurt. And his belly hurt. And a large spot on his shirt was now wet.
Although admitting it made him feel like an ass, he really hoped this would end soon.
He’d been dreaming about holding Marissa in his arms for a few weeks now, but not like this. He was so far from being aroused it wasn’t even funny.
Finally, her sobs tapered off. She gasped and hiccupped a few last times into his shirt, but then lifted her head. Her hands still clutched at his sides. “I’m sorry. You’d think after a year, I would be able to keep it together.”
He lifted his hands and wiped away some lingering tears with his thumbs. Then dropped his hands abruptly. Something about the gesture felt too intimate, and not the kind of intimacy he liked.
“There’s no reason for you to keep it together,” he said hoarsely. “You can cry all you want.”
But he was silently pleading for her not to cry anymore. It felt like he was being ripped apart.
She smiled up at him weakly. “I think I’m done crying. Let me put some clothes on, and maybe we can—” She stopped, looking a little uncertain. “I mean, unless you have to go back to practice or have other plans.”
The fact that she could even question whether or not he was planning to stay felt like a blow. A self-inflicted one. Because Marissa had only past experience to work from, and he put other things ahead of their friendship most of the time. “I’m not going back to practice. You change clothes—I’ll find some food.”
Something warmed in her eyes that caused him to swallow painfully. Before the strange ache could grow any deeper, he turned around to leave the bedroom.
“Caleb,” she called out after him.
He turned back to look at her. Her face was beautiful and pale, surrounded by her damp, messy hair.
“You have no idea how much it means that you came over tonight.” Her face twisted some, as she tried to retain her composure. “When you’re with me, I miss my dad…less.”
And now his eyes were hurting too. Everything was hurting. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner.”
Their eyes locked, and his words lingered in the air—taking on a strange kind of significance in the silent room.
An alarming confusion was growing on her face, so he hurriedly tore his eyes away and made his way out of the room.
After ransacking her refrigerator and cabinets and finding nothing that looked appetizing, he called a delicatessen nearby and ordered some homemade soup and fresh bread to be delivered. He doubted either one of them was very hungry, and soup was supposed to be comforting.
At least, that was what everyone said.
He heard the hairdryer going in the other room, so he selected a bottle of wine and opened it. He was pouring the wine into two glasses when she emerged. She wore old sweats, and her hair wasn’t all the way dry, so it curled in little tendrils around her face.
She took the glass he offered her gratefully. “Thanks. I’m sorry about the breakdown before.”
“There’s no reason for you to apologize.”
“Yeah, but I know how much you hate that kind of thing. Believe it or not, I don’t actually like to make you miserable.”
Apparently, he’d not done a good job of hiding his discomfort earlier. “We’re friends, and you never make me miserable.” That wasn’t entirely true, but any misery Caleb felt around her certainly wasn’t her fault.
“Uh huh.” She took a step over to him and put her free hand on his shoulder. Then she stretched up and gave him a kiss on the jaw. “You’re a big liar, but I adore you just the same.”
It was all he could do not to leap backward to get away from her. He would have been gratified and delighted if her kiss and words had been remotely sexual. But they weren’t. They were sweet, and tender, and intimate. But they weren’t sexual at all.
And it was only sexually that Caleb knew how to handle such things.
He grunted out some sort of an answer.
Obviously recognizing his discomfort, she backed away with a little smile that she tried to hide from him. “All right. No more emotional stuff. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
They settled on the couch until the food arrived, but they waited until after they ate before they started the movie.
Caleb was pretty sure neither of them really paid attention to it. He was too distracted and unsettled, and Marissa was exhausted and sad. Without even waiting for her to ask, he lifted his arm, offering to let her cuddle up beside him.
He knew the p
hysical contact gave her comfort. Even though it was so uncomfortable for him.
He draped his arm around her, feeling the strange ache return to his belly and chest.
How had this gotten so complicated? How had simple lust confused and disturbed him to such an extent? He’d felt hints of these aches before—during all the years they’d been friends—but never so deeply, never so consistently.
Marissa’s body had been cold and shaking to begin with, but gradually it grew warmer as she snuggled up beside him. After an hour or so, she began to shift restlessly. At her request, they adjusted their positions, until they were both stretched out on the couch. The most unnerving thing was that he wasn’t aroused. Even though she was essentially lying on top of him.
His body had reacted but not in the predictable way. Instead, he was starting to feel rather sick. Trapped.
Marissa eventually fell asleep, but this only made things worse. In sleep, she was more pliant, more clingy. Her body pressed into his snugly, as if it instinctively recognized that his body would match it, soothe it, protect it.
Caleb missed the innate simplicity of lust. Lust might be overwhelming, but it was so much easier than whatever this was he was experiencing. He couldn't feel anything except Marissa's body, couldn't think of anything but her. If he'd been aroused, he would have understood it. But this…
Of its own accord, his hand started to move. Brushing gently against her hair. He’d never felt like this until recently. Never felt compelled to touch a woman in a way that wasn’t sexual.
His heart jumped when she made a noise in her sleep and moved restlessly, but she only ended up pressing against him more closely.
The movie concluded, and he stared at the menu screen that appeared when it ended.
Caleb had no idea how long he stared at it. If he’d gotten up to turn it off or to find something to watch on TV, then he would have had to disturb Marissa. And she was sleeping so soundly now that he hated to wake her up.
By this time, his hand had moved down to her hip, and he stroked it idly, unconsciously.
All his life, his priority had been to be free.
This wasn’t free.
But there was also no way he could let her go.
And so pondering this paradox, Caleb lay on Marissa’s couch for hours, his hand slowly stroking over her hair, her side, her hip, her back.
Until he finally fell asleep beside her.
Seven
On waking, the first thing Marissa felt was strange.
Then she felt deliciously warm and cozy.
Then she also felt stiff and rather cramped.
Then she felt strange again.
Then she realized someone was spooning her from behind.
Then she was astonished that Caleb had actually fallen asleep with her.
She knew it was him, even though she was barely awake. She knew it intuitively—it just felt like him—even before she recognized his familiar scent and the gray fabric of the sleeve.
The sleeve was on the arm she was hugging tightly to her chest.
It took her a minute to remember what had happened. She’d fallen asleep during the movie last night, and he’d been letting her snuggle against him.
Her falling asleep wasn’t all that unusual, but he’d never stayed the whole night before. Always before, he’d woken her up before he left.
She’d never actually seen him sleeping.
Not that she could really see him now. All she could see was the arm he had draped around her. He was definitely sleeping, though. He was far too relaxed to be awake, and his breathing was slow and deep.
Gradually growing more and more coherent, Marissa became conscious of a few more realities. She really needed to pee, but she was too warm and languid to even think about moving yet.
Then she felt strange again. Finally recognized why.
There was a hard bulge pressing against her butt.
At the realization of what this meant, Marissa flushed deeply, hotly.
It was normal. Normal. She tried to convince herself of this fact. Caleb was asleep. Guys got erections all the time while they slept. It was perfectly innocuous. Perfectly normal.
Not really about sex at all.
But it was not normal for Marissa to have an erection pushing into her butt.
She drew away from him automatically, but there wasn’t much room on the couch as it was. At her movement, Caleb tightened his arm and unconsciously pulled her back against him.
Damn it. This was mortifying. And it was making her feel nauseated—the way she always felt when confronted with something sexual without warning, without having time to mentally prepare and raise her defenses.
Marissa really didn’t want to think about Caleb being hard. She knew it was just a physical reaction that had happened as he slept—it had nothing to do with her—but still…
It was her butt he was pushing it into.
She had to get up, before Caleb awoke. Sickening anxiety flooded her chest. If he woke up, this would be real, and something would have entered their relationship that had never existed before.
Something she couldn’t handle.
Getting desperate, Marissa eased his arm off her and rolled away before he could pull her back.
Of course, she rolled right onto the floor, but she scrambled back up quietly. Caleb stirred restlessly, but his eyes were still closed, and his breathing evened out again.
Marissa ran for the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Went to splash some water on her face and then stare at herself in the mirror.
What was wrong with her? She was an adult. She shouldn’t get so upset and unsettled by something as normal and natural as an erection. On Caleb. On her couch. Against her butt.
She shuddered and dried her face.
She still felt hot and kind of sick, so she turned on the shower and stepped under the water. She didn’t usually like to jump right in the shower after she woke up—especially not before her coffee—but today there were extenuating circumstances.
And she needed to get the feel of sex off her.
It was really too bad. She’d been so cozy and comfortable snuggled up against him, and he’d been so sweet last night.
Even the slightest hints of sex had the power to mess things up.
That brought back memories she simply refused to dwell on—memories of dirty, demeaning things she’d heard, even with the pillow over her head—so she ruthlessly forced them back into the safe, dark corner of her mind.
After she’d showered and dressed, she felt more like herself and came back out to the living room. She’d expected for Caleb to have awakened, but he was still sleeping.
Marissa watched him for a minute. He probably hadn’t slept much this week—he’d been wrapped up in his music, evidently. Poor thing was probably exhausted.
He looked younger and more vulnerable sleeping. His features were relaxed, and he looked almost like a little boy.
She’d known the little boy—too sharp, too talented, too fiercely intense. A godling, she’d called him.
Then the boy had turned into this man.
An unexpected tenderness grew deep in her belly, and she was hit with an irrational desire to stroke his handsome face, his messy hair, his broad shoulders.
Needless to say, she didn’t act on it.
She smiled fondly at him—her best friend for so long—but she kept her eyes carefully away from the lower part of his body.
After making her way into the kitchen, she started putting on a pot of coffee. The smell would probably awaken him in a few minutes. She puttered around while the coffee brewed—putting up the dishes from last night—then went back to see if Caleb was still asleep.
This time, as she stood watching him, he opened his eyes and saw her.
“Hey,” she said cheerfully. She wondered if he was crabby first thing in the morning.
He grunted out some sort of answer.
“Rise and shine,” she announced gleefully—just to s
ee his reaction.
Caleb growled at her.
Laughing helplessly, she started to tease him some more, but then she saw a brief, trapped look pass over his face.
He controlled his expression immediately, but she knew exactly what that look meant. His physical condition must not have altered since she’d felt it against her butt.
“The coffee should be ready,” she said casually, turning to walk out of the room. “You can take a shower if you want to. I’ve already taken mine.”
Giving him some space and privacy, she hid in the kitchen until she heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on.
Then she let out a breath of relief.
* * *
“Caleb, are you still practicing?”
Marissa called out the words after she knocked, unlocked his apartment, and walked in.
She jerked to a halt at what she saw.
Caleb was evidently done with practicing. He was sitting on a leather chair in his living room.
But he wasn’t alone.
Another man—a handsome, dark-haired man who appeared several years older—was seated on the couch. And they were both looking at documents in matching file folders.
Marissa had apparently interrupted something.
At her abrupt entrance, both of them jerked their heads up, looking startled. Almost secretive.
“Sorry,” she said in a rush, giving Caleb an apologetic look. “I thought you’d be alone. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s fine,” he said quickly, covering his initial expression. She'd seen his face and read it correctly, though—he clearly would prefer that she wasn’t here. “You didn’t interrupt anything important.”
Marissa stood awkwardly. From the mood in the room, she had interrupted something important. “Oh,” she said stupidly.
She glanced over at the other man. He was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. She recognized him immediately.
Baron James. The sax player from the jazz club.
He was looking back at her boldly, and his eyes were of the dark, smoldering variety.
Caleb didn’t appear to be happy about making the introductions, but at this point he had no other choice. “Marissa Dalton, Baron James.”
