by K Larsen
Sawyer’s face clouds but quickly morphs to indifference as he walks to me and inspects the necklace.
“I didn't realize you two kept in touch,” he says under his breath.
“We don’t, really. He texts once in a while but that’s it,” I share.
“Well this looks like more than some random texting.” He drops the necklace back to my chest and moves around the counter furiously unpacking groceries.
“Sawyer, I’m here. With you. What does it matter if Dom and I text sometimes?” I touch his arm lightly to still his movements.
“It doesn't, Clara. The necklace is just a little much don't you think?” He sighs.
“Maybe, but it is really pretty,” I gush, and Sawyer gives me a small half-hearted smile and continues putting groceries away. Well, so much for a nice night with my main man. Sawyer says we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see a movie because he’s suddenly too tired to go out. I tell him that’s fine but I know he’s irked about Dom’s gift. Things had just finally settled back into their good ways too. I try to convince him to snuggle me and watch some bad cable TV but he blows me off, opting for his room instead, and I’m left pondering how to bridge the gaping hole that’s forming between us.
Who’s Playing Who
Saturday morning I wake with a start. Dom comes in today and I can't wait to see him. Sawyer doesn't have to be at the shop until eleven so I let him sleep while I tug on jeans and a tank and head into the shop to open for Dom. He arrives at ten on the nose, dressed in faded jeans and a blue Henley shirt. His hair is ruffled and he looks like a wet dream. My pulse quickens at the sight of him. I’ve never seen him dressed down but damn does he rock it. He actually looks like a normal man. Someone I could date.
“Hi,” I say shyly. Dom laughs and pulls me into a fierce hug. Letting me go he fingers the pendant. “It suits you,” he admires.
“Thanks.”
“It’s good to see you. I missed you,” he tells me as he laces his fingers through mine and leads us to my station. Who is this guy? He’s a far cry from the Dom I met in Boston.
“Yeah. It’s good to see you too,” I parrot like a retard. “You look good. I like this laidback look,” I tease, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Ah, someone told me all work and no play makes me a dull boy.” He laughs and perches on the table. “So I took the bike on the plane and rode here.”
“Ahh, that makes sense. Suits, loafers, and motorcycles don’t really mix,” I joke.
“I’ll take you for a ride when we’re done if you have time,” he offers, grinning. The idea of being tightly wrapped around him whizzing through the mountain roads at high speeds is almost too much for my brain to handle.
“Confession time,” I snort. “I don't usually take Saturday clients so you’re my only one.”
“Really, Ms. Lord? You’re here just for me?” he teases.
“True story,” I quip and busy myself setting up my station. Slowly removing his shirt I can’t help but sneak a peek at the way his muscles contract and relax as he pulls it over his head and settles onto the table. His movements have some strange ability to reduce me to a puddle of girly mush.
“Want music?” I ask, regaining some composure.
“Anything you want,” he replies.
“You’re brave,” I laugh after pushing Play. Blink-182 pumps through the speakers, giving me energy. I love their old albums. I snap on my gloves, clean and shave the area, and dive into my work. I love the way the colors are complementing each other as I move further up the snake's body. The accent color for the roses will make it one of my best. Well, best colorings that is. After an hour Dom takes a quick break to stretch. Sawyer comes in laughing with his client but snaps his mouth closed when he sees Dom on my table. Shooting daggers at me, he clips his greeting and pretty much ignores my presence.
“Hey, Clara,” Julieann greets me. “What’s Sawyer's issue?” she asks, picking up on the obvious tension between us.
“PMS,” I shrug. “Maybe I’ll slip some Midol in his coffee. Apparently I bring out his inner ‘Fuck You.’” We snicker together before she sits in Sawyer's chair and removes her shirt. Sawyer’s finishing a killer cityscape of Rome that spans her entire back.
“Friend?” Dom asks as I come back around the table.
“Julieann? Yeah, kinda. She’s been in a lot for some work. She’s cool.”
“Sawyer didn't say hello to me,” he points out.
“Sawyer has a sandy vagina. Ignore him.”
Dom chuckles and shakes his head. “Where do you come up with this shit?”
“Sorry. I really need to start using my filter.”
“Don't. Please. I love listening to you,” he laughs. Getting back to work I notice that Julieann is all but drooling in my direction and I chuckle to myself at her obviousness. When she gets up an hour later for a break, Dom and I are still going strong. She struts over to us shirtless, flaunting her taut lean twenty-something body and watches as I work.
“Wow. That’s hot,” she flirts. Dom smiles and I refuse to lift my head. Just keep working, Clara. The green-eyed jealousy monster is threatening to make an appearance and I really don't want to snap at Julieann. I like her.
“Thanks. Let’s see.” Dom nods his head indicating to Julieann to turn around. She complies and peers over her shoulder at him with a lustful look.
“That’s impressive. Sawyer really does amazing work. Rome, right?” he chats. The needle slips a little too deep and he grimaces. Oops. My bad.
“Yeah. I took the photo Sawyer’s using to base it from. I love Rome,” she gushes.
“J.A., babe, you ready?” Sawyer claps his hands and she jumps, startled. I snicker and keep my head down.
“Nice to meet you....” she lingers, waiting for his name.
“Dominic,” I answer for him.
“Dominic,” she breathes and I want to punch her in her pretty little face. Wow, what is wrong with me?
“Clara, relax,” he soothes when she's gone. Busted.
“Uh. Mmmhmm,” I stutter and Dom chuckles at me. His hand drops to my thigh and squeezes gently. I immediately pull the gun away from his side. I would hate to slip and fuck up his tatt because I can’t control my body’s reaction when he touches me. He pulls his hand away, grinning like a fool, and I resume my work, smirking. By one I’ve done as much as I think he can take for one sitting. I gently wipe him clean and cover the colored area before letting him dress again.
“I think we can finish this in two more sessions,” I say, eyeing the remaining portion thoughtfully. Shrugging his shirt back on, he smiles and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. Julieann and Sawyer are watching us like hawks, for two completely different reasons I assume.
“That’s it? I was hoping it’d take at least three more,” he flirts.
“That’s it, bud. Sorry to disappoint.”
He leans in and kisses the top of my head and groans quietly. “You smell tempting.” I laugh at the irony considering I think he smells heavenly. “Hmm and here I was thinking it was you who smelled so good,” I say.
He chortles and tugs my hand. “Ready for that ride?”
I fall in step with him, smiling widely, and nod. “Just let me clean up. You can wait here, or there’s a good coffee shop next door.”
“Do you want anything?” he asks.
“No thanks, I’ll come grab ya when I’m done,” I say. He nods and heads next door.
“Where did he come from?” Julieann asks as she carefully pulls her shirt on.
“Boston,” I say curtly. She’s definitely fishing for information and I don't care to give it to her.
“You two dating?” she questions as Sawyer narrows his eyes at me.
“Nope,” I tell her and get back to my station.
I clean up my mess, wipe everything down, disinfect, and grab my purse. He should have had ample time to finish his coffee by now. “See ya,” I call to Sawyer as I head out. He doesn't reply, which irk
s me, but I’m not going to let it ruin my afternoon. Approaching the coffee shop, I stop dead in my tracks as I take in Julieann wrapped around Dom by his bike. She’s laughing wildly at something he said. His body language screams disinterest, but apparently not enough disinterest to keep her from rubbing her body all over him. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I watch them. Dom finally catches sight of me and stumbles a step back from Julieann, looking guilty. I saunter up to them, trying to keep my jealousy in check. Who am I kidding? A juvenile outburst is going to take place shortly. I somehow have a knack for causing scenes.
“Julieann,” I grind out.
“Hey, Clara,” she purrs.
“Dom, something came up but I’m sure Julieann here would love to hop on the back of your bike in my absence,” I say dryly before pushing past them both and heading to my car. Dom lets out an irritated huff before calling out to me. I know I’m being slightly adolescent. I have no ownership over him and I told Julieann we weren't dating but the idea of Dom with anyone else suddenly really pisses me off. I hit the unlock button on my key fob and yank the door open, sending it swinging wide. Chucking my purse into the passenger seat, I start to fold into the car.
“Clara, stop,” his deep voice booms, commanding me, and for a second I almost want to oblige. I want him to want me when I turn my back. How whack is that?
“Not a chance,” I bark, swinging the door shut. The door swings back open with force and I’m physically removed from the vehicle and set on my feet, toe to toe with Dom. “What the…”
“Shut up,” he growls at me. Snapping my mouth shut, I refuse to look at him. His hands leave my hips and wrap around my neck, forcing my head to face his. His coal black eyes are smoldering and it suddenly feels like the air’s been sucked from my lungs. His head dips low, meeting mine, and he kisses me. It’s soft, sweet, and full of desire. Thrusting past my teeth, his tongue circles mine, stroking and teasing, and I give up my fight and kiss him back. His fingers tangle in my hair tightly as he pulls me into his lean frame. A strangled moan slips from me as he bites my bottom lip, tugs gently, and releases it before pulling back to peer down at me.
“Dammit, Clara,” he hisses while I struggle to regulate my breathing. Pulling me away from the car, he leans in, tags the keys from the ignition, and locks the doors.
“Bike,” he clips as he tugs me by the hand towards his bike.
“No,” I blurt. “No, Dom, you can’t kiss the shit out of me and think that wipes the slate clean.”
“Clara. I didn’t do anything wrong. You overreacted and I can kiss the shit out of you,” he grumbles.
“I saw her rubbing herself up and down your body, practically purring, and you let her!” I screech.
“What part of that is wrong on my part?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“You let her be all over you in front of me!” I squawk, my hurt evident.
“And you have reason to be pissed why?” He smirks. Arrghh. This man is infuriating. He’s right, though. I have no claim on him; in fact, I’m the one who wanted it that way.
“Message received,” I bark back. His rough hands attach to my waist, and my hands immediately clamp onto his shoulders to steady myself as he hoists me through the air and sets me rather forcefully onto his bike. “Sit. Stay,” he instructs as he grabs a helmet and jams it onto my head. “I’m not a dog,” I pout. I can feel my bottom lip start to tremble and tears prick my eyes. I don’t know if I’m coming or going when he’s around and it’s messing with my emotions. I do this to myself though. I like the taste of danger, it shines like sugar on my lips and I’ll gladly stand in the line of fire just to show I can shoot straight from my hip. It doesn't serve me well, and I know it, but it’s as if I’m helpless against it. I’m fiery and vulnerable and guarded and outgoing all at the same time. Oh boy do I confuse myself.
Tugging on his own helmet he slides on in front of me and the engine rumbles to life. Instinctively I snake my arms around his waist, press my front to his back and hold tight. He throttles the engine and we peel out into traffic while I fight to keep from crying. We speed along the winding mountain roads pressed together and I realize that I want to date him. DUH. I want the chance to date him. I absolutely don't want to see him with some hussy. I also have no say over this particular situation. I’ve spent the last month willing my body to ignore its overwhelming physical desire for the man I’m currently molded to, and telling my brain that no matter how well I get to know him, no matter how many sweet texts, gifts or visits I get, he is off-limits. I’ve spent the last month mentally stabbing my Daniel Hollingsworth voodoo doll with pins, cursing him for making me this way.
His hand covers mine momentarily where it clings to his middle and his thumb brushes gently over my knuckles before returning to the handlebar. That’s all it takes for me to come unglued. A sob bursts from me and the tears spill as my body shudders with the force of my waterworks. Thank God he can't hear me. The bike slows and he pulls off to the side, killing the engine and tearing his helmet off. “Clara?” His voice is worried.
I refuse to release him from my death grip or acknowledge him. He twists around and, snaking an arm under my pits, slides me around so that I’m straddling him. His fingers make quick work of the chin strap and as he removes the helmet I try futilely to wipe away any evidence that I shed tears. He cups my face, the pads of his thumbs pushing the wetness away. I wrap my legs around his waist tightly and without looking at him I rest my head on his chest. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he pushes gently.
“Trust me, when I woke up today, I had plans to be awesome, but... shit happens,” I sniffle into his chest.
His hands are rubbing soothing circles on my back as I shake my head no. My arms join my legs, wrapping around him and holding on for dear life. My hips buck slightly as I try to adjust my position and I’m surprised to feel his hardness press into the crotch of my jeans. The fact that he’s turned on even when I’m a bumbling idiot, that he wants me at all, sends another wave of tears spilling down my cheeks. Prying me off of him he holds me back and stares at me.
“Explain,” he says gently. I blow out a shaky breath and try to formulate a sentence. It’s not easy when his dark eyes bore into mine.
“I’m overwhelmed. I was jealous, then mad at myself, then mad at someone else, then blown away by the fact that you’re turned on right now even though I’m acting like a PMSing jerk,” I blurt, rambling.
“Slow down. Explain ‘mad at yourself.’”
“I made the rules. I told you no. I lied. I want to date you but I can't. I’m mad at myself because I got jealous even though you were following my rules,” I let on quietly. His eyes widen at the honest admission but he doesn't push further.
“Who’s the ‘someone else’ you’re mad at?” he murmurs.
“Pass,” I say shortly.
“No, Clara, no passing.”
“I’m mad at Allie’s dad for being the reason that we can't date.” There are only so many ways to phrase my answer without divulging information.
“Why is he the reason?”
“Pass,” I clip and Dom growls in frustration.
“Why does it surprise you that even when you’re a crying jerk you can turn me on?” he asks, clearly giving up and changing the topic.
“I don't know. I guess I want to believe that you’re a pompous ass, an entitled jerk, so that this is easier for me. Knowing you’re just as affected by me as I am by you just makes things worse,” I huff and let my head collapse back to his chest.
“I think about you all the time, Clara. If I could evict you from my head I would have done it a month ago. Why are you so sure you can’t be with me?” He sounds desperate and needy and it nearly breaks me.
“I’d like to explain. I really would, but Allie comes first in my life and there are already too many people who know the truth,” I mumble into his shirt.
His grip tightens around me. “Are you in danger?” His voice is tight and
controlled.
“Honestly, I don't know...but that’s not something I’m willing to find out,” I admit reluctantly. He sighs loudly.
“We should head back. My plane leaves in a couple hours.”
I nod, swing a leg over and off the bike and hop on the back again. Helmets secured, he fires up the bike and directs us back to town. When he pulls up alongside my car I hop off and hand him his helmet.
“I don't want you with anyone else.”
The words tumble out of me before I can stop them. Dom reaches out and crushes me to his chest.
“I don’t want anyone else,” he soothes, “but I won't stop dating until you’re ready to be with me. Publicly.”
I stumble back from him in shock. “I have events that require a date, Clara. I want you in my world just as much as you want me only in yours.” He looks pained as he speaks but remains firm. “When you’re ready to be with me, I’ll be here.”
I can’t even form words. He’s rotten. I spill my guts to him, tell him I want him and he still wants more. Greedy ass. Why can't he just agree to date on my terms for a while? Okay, so maybe that's a little much. Clearly it’s all about me. I am a certified mess. I back up a few more steps and can feel my anger and frustration bubbling to the surface.
“If you knew, you wouldn't push me to be a part of your world,” I spit, putting my defenses in place.
“But I don't know, because YOU. WON'T. TELL. ME!.” he roars, clearly frustrated.
“Well, that about sums up our fucked-up relationship. See ya in September,” I say with snark. I can feel the steely walls replacing themselves around my heart. I’m shutting him out and closing myself in. I don't even care right now. My defense mechanisms kick in and I leave him sitting on his idling bike without another thought.
By the time Sawyer gets home I’ve cried myself silly, eaten a pint of chocolate ice cream, and can be found soaking in the bathtub drinking wine while Fiona Apple blares through the house. The bathroom door creaks as Sawyer pushes the door open and he plops down on the edge of the tub.
