To See You

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Kissing her, smoothing her hair, I asked, “Was that okay?”

  She buried her head in my chest. “Why did we wait?”

  “Stop,” I said.

  “Now I’ll always wonder if it would have been this good then—”

  “Shhh,” I said. “It’s perfect now.”

  Holding her close was the closest I’d ever been to heaven. As she lay there nestled against me, I pulled her tighter, unable to believe how lucky I was.

  But I’d never even dreamed she’d want the old me.

  I lay sated on the bed, my hair a rat’s nest, my inner thighs sticky and aching, and I couldn’t move if you paid me.

  What if this and what if that ran through my head. What would it have been like before? To make love, to fuck Layton? Would I have been on top?

  “Hey, come here,” he called from my bathroom, forcing me to discontinue the litany of what-ifs roaming the open plain of my mind.

  I shimmied out of the bed and wrapped myself in a chenille throw. Pushing the door semi-open, I said, “Yeah?”

  “Come here,” he said, this time softly.

  I walked into the bathroom to find the tub almost filled, steam rising off the water as Layton poured a small bottle of shower gel under the spout.

  When he looked up at me, his eyes were burning with hunger again. “I thought you might like to relax in here.”

  He’d pulled his khakis back on but hadn’t buttoned them, letting them ride low on his waist, revealing a small trail of hair that led to where his now familiar penis resided.

  “You good?” he asked.

  A warm blush crept up my chest at being caught staring.

  I nodded. “I’m good. That actually looks so incredible . . . amazing actually.”

  “Great. Get in,” he said and held out his hand.

  I wasn’t sure if he meant he was coming in after me or what, but I took his hand. The blanket fell to the floor, and he held me steady as I stepped in one foot at a time and slid down into the warm bubbles.

  “Want a candle?”

  When I nodded, he grabbed a book of matches from the tray holding my favorite candle and lit it, releasing a hint of persimmon into the air.

  “You relax. Do you have any wine I can open? Or do you want some water?”

  I shook my head. “No, but there’s a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge.”

  He went out, leaving the door slightly ajar, and I missed him already.

  Tomorrow he’d be back in California, miles and miles away.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back into the neck pillow and willed myself to relax. That was tomorrow. But tonight wasn’t over yet . . .

  After we had the champagne, I lay cuddled on the couch with Layton, bundled in my fluffy robe. It was after one o’clock in the morning, and unease pummeled through my veins like the subway underneath the city.

  What should I do? Should I ask him to get dressed? Kiss him good-bye? As my mind spun, I yawned.

  Layton reached across my small couch to push my hair away from my eye. “Tired?”

  I nodded. “A little.”

  His hand went back to rest on my knee and then slid down to my feet, which were curled on his lap. “Want me to leave? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  A rush of air pushed out from my lungs, a pent-up breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. With it gone, the tension seeped from my body, leaving me feeling boneless.

  “I hate to say this,” he said, “but maybe I could push my trip a night and we could have those drinks at the top of my hotel. We never got to do that. The view is unrivaled . . . except maybe only by you.”

  “Want to stay?”

  “Yeah.” Layton brought his knuckles back to my cheek and caressed my skin. “I would.”

  He grabbed my hand, and we stood together and walked back to the bedroom. I straightened the comforter from our earlier activities and pulled it back. He pulled off his khakis and I watched from under heavy lids.

  As if we’d done it a million times before, we crawled into bed and he pulled me onto his chest. His heart beat a constant rhythm much like his personality. Strong and steady. I curled in closer and closed my eyes.

  His lips brushed the top of my head. “You didn’t answer about me staying one more day.”

  “I’m afraid that tomorrow I’ll wake up and this was all a dream. You’re not real. Not here.”

  “I’m here and I want to stay longer. Does that work?”

  I nodded, my hair grazing his chin.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  It’s the day after that I’m not sure how it will work.

  We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  I would have to worry about tomorrow after today.

  I woke up with a start, not sure where I was. My dreams had taken me far away from home, landing me in the bedroom of my fantasies. Although I never knew it was purple.

  Then I saw her—awake, propped up on an elbow and staring at me, a smile on her face and her hair tousled over her forehead.

  “Morning,” I grumbled.

  “Morning.”

  “You good?” I asked, reaching out to swipe her bangs out of her eyes.

  She nodded. “Want breakfast?”

  “Maybe some coffee. Do you have to work today?” I asked her as she slipped out of bed, still snug in her robe. I wanted to tear it off and dive deep inside her.

  “I should do a little, but not all day.”

  As I wondered if she’d want to hang out during the day or only at night, she said, “I could show you around parts of the city or we could go for a run?”

  “A run sounds awesome.”

  I said that. A run. Me.

  “Great, I’ll make some coffee. Then we could run in Central Park since you need to go change.”

  It felt so normal, Charli suggesting a run and my accepting as if we did it all the time. But tomorrow we wouldn’t be doing it.

  Couldn’t be.

  That was tomorrow, I told myself.

  We ran through the park and stopped for lunch before I went back to my hotel and Charli went to work. When she left, my soul felt barren. Seriously, as soon as she was gone from my side, I felt empty.

  I was like Puss in Boots, tough, all macho and good-looking, but a softie at heart.

  If the day went quickly, the evening felt as if someone had punched a button to fast-forward. We were having drinks at the bar on the top floor of my hotel, surrounded with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the skyline twinkling in the background.

  There wasn’t enough time for Charli’s laughter or for me to appreciate the inquisitive look she wore when we discussed something important. At one point, she asked about which movies I’d worked on recently.

  This time I didn’t run my hand down the window seam like I had that night I’d waited for her here alone. Instead, I traced her kneecap, a small patch of bare skin that peeked out between her almost knee-length skirt and her knee-high boots. It was so soft, like a peach on a hot summer’s day.

  No, that was her pussy. And I fucking loved peaches.

  Her knee was like silk sheets, fresh from the wash. I liked those a lot too.

  Shaking my head, I mentally reminded myself I was a man. A horny one, but a man, and I should act like one.

  Still, my finger stroked her slight kneecap and ran inside the top of her boot, tracing the top of her firm calf. I was as hard as a rock, my dick pushing against the zipper of my jeans, and I willed myself to get my mind off her pussy and concentrate on her question.

  “After I finished on the action flick, I took a week off and got my head straight. That’s when my fitness really took off. I was walking and walking; poor Harriette was exhausted. I fired my dog walker and walked some more. Then I picked up the gig with Ryan. Of course, it was a sexy comedy. It’s coming out soon, by the way. He felt sorry for me, I think. When he was done with me, I was a new man. Now I’m working on that vampire movie.”

 
She clapped her hands and bent over her thighs. “Oh my God, you’re not?”

  “I am.”

  As I sipped my Scotch, she brought her wineglass to her pink-glossed lips. I studied her, noticing the tiny trail of blush that decorated her cheek, and how her lashes met the pale pink shadow lining her eyes. She was so delicately beautiful, I had to close my eyes against her for a second. The woman took my breath away.

  Her giggle brought me out of my stupor. “That is literally the movie. I actually read all the books. They’re like free tortilla chips and salsa. Once you start, you can’t stop.”

  “I’ve heard them compared to crack cocaine. Anyway, I’m learning all about the shimmering vamp and actually, the guys here are working on getting me a piece of music for a specific scene.”

  “Wait!”

  She brought her small hand down on my jean-clad knee. A fire burst through the denim, heat soaking my entire body. That’s what this woman did to me after one night.

  “Are you going to this premiere?”

  I laughed, the deep sound echoing around us. “I’m sure.”

  “Oh, I’m going,” she said. “I can’t miss that.”

  Grabbing her hand, I pulled the back of it to my lips and placed a kiss on her smooth skin. What I said was, “Of course,” but what I meant was thank fuck, you want to see me again.

  And that’s pretty much how the rest of the evening went, up until we ended up tangled in my sheets in my room downstairs.

  Softly illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the gauzy window shades, Charli set her head on my chest and brought her leg over the sheet, laying it gently on top of mine.

  “So, now what?” Of course, she was the one brave enough to ask.

  “This was magical. I know it sounds foolish, but I mean it.”

  She nodded against my chest. “It was,” she whispered.

  “I’d like to see you again. I can come here; you can come to me. Would that be okay?”

  “Are you going to be a whole different person next time I see you?”

  I ran my hand through my hair and tucked my palm behind my head. “No. But honestly, do you think I’m a different person?”

  She shook her head this time. “You’re you.”

  “And I’m your guy.”

  Her hand lingered on my nipple, tracing circles. “My guy,” she muttered and began moving her hand south. “Hey, I don’t know your birthday. When is it? How old are you? I know you’re older than me . . . ugh, I guess it’s a little late to be asking.”

  “Turning the big three-five on September twenty-eighth,” I said, her hair tickling my lips as I spoke.

  “No way!” She snuggled deeper into my side. “Mine’s the twenty-sixth. I’ll be thirty—blah. Thirty, it’s kind of crazy hearing it.”

  “Prettiest, sexiest almost-thirty-year-old I know,” I said with a laugh but then sucked in a breath.

  My body was at attention almost immediately from her touch. I wasn’t sure it could happen again so soon, but apparently with Charli, my body knew no limits. Her hand wrapped around my girth, not fitting all the way but squeezing and pumping until I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I shoved her ambitious fingers away and crawled on top of her, then made my way down to her peach. Yep, I’d confirmed earlier it was as ripe and luscious as a peach, and I wanted to feast on it again.

  Her back arched and she shoved her hips into my face before demurely pulling them away. I grabbed a hold of her hip bone and kept her still with my face planted right where I wanted it.

  “Don’t be shy.”

  She twisted in my grip, but I held steady until her whole body shuddered under my lips. As she lay there gasping, I climbed up her body, reaching for a condom and not wasting any time. Especially since she said, “Hurry, Lay.”

  I slid inside her and forced myself to slow down, taking my time pulling in and out of her, long and slow, appreciating the sighs coming from her.

  Bending over, I whispered, “I’m your guy,” in her ear before I picked up speed.

  She came again, this time holding tightly to my back, her small breasts smashed into my chest, burning an imprint into me.

  Saying good-bye was hard. When I walked into the bar earlier in the week, I thought Layton and I would have a good time and share some quick laughs. That’s it. I never expected him to spend the night—or to look the way he did.

  God, I had just made up my mind that I liked him. He was witty, funny, and caring. And now he was freaking gorgeous.

  It made me take pause and question who I was . . . even more than I’d already done. I’d certainly judged the hell out of him when I first saw him on the plane. Torn between my mom begging me to date Garrett and Janie’s criteria for the type of guy I should date, I didn’t want to like Layton.

  But I did anyway, and had fought it by ditching him via an SOS call from Janie.

  He continued to remain true to who he was, a nice guy, and I had finally come to terms with that. And then bam! Suddenly he was a hottie too.

  My phone rang early on Sunday after Layton went back. He’d flown out Friday afternoon, needing to get back because the movie was behind schedule and they were shooting today. It was a pivotal scene and he needed to be there. Otherwise, I was certain he would have stayed.

  Or maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.

  “Hello, J,” I said, sipping my coffee. I’d been up, staring into space and dreaming of my time with Layton.

  I’d turned into that girl.

  “Come on, we’re going spinning and then for brunch,” Janie said. “You’re going to fill me in whether you want to or not.”

  I stared at my bare feet, my pink-polished toes splayed on the hardwood.

  “Janie . . . really?”

  “Really. See you at the spin place in an hour. We’re gonna sweat our butts off and then your mouth is gonna be running.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up and tossed on a pair of leggings and a to-and-from-yoga top, threw my spinning shorts and shoes in a bag, and filled a water bottle. Janie had been hot on my trail since I mentioned Layton was coming.

  Janie greeted me outside the spinning studio without even a hello. “You’re the one who went MIA for forty-eight hours . . . don’t give me that look.”

  “It’s freezing out here,” I said, ignoring her comment as I hoisted the door open. I went straight to the changing room and plopped down on the bench to remove my UGGs and put on my shorts.

  “Charleston, I thought something happened to you. If I hadn’t seen your picture on Instagram on Thursday of your run with him, I would’ve called the police.” She shoved off her lululemon leggings, no shame in being commando, and tugged on mini biker shorts.

  I actually heard a small note of panic in her voice as she sat down next to me, and felt horrible about not touching base with my best friend for days. I broke girl code.

  “I’m sorry. I just got so swept away. And, well, Layton is hot now.”

  “Um, I can see that in the picture. Even with that blurry filter, I can make out all his hotness.”

  “But he’s also so kind and funny, and really genuine. He’s a good one.”

  She ran her hand down my hair, braiding and tying it, when I bent over to put my shoes on.

  “I’m truly sorry I worried you. He blew into town like a hurricane and then stayed a day longer, but he had to leave and go back home. I sat staring at my laptop like a jilted woman yesterday.”

  She stood and tugged my hand, gathering me into her arms.

  “You’re crazy silly, Charli. You’re a girl in like and I forgive you, but next time I’m going to call the cops. You had me so nervous, I could’ve spit, and I was pacing like my mom waiting for her brisket to be finished.”

  I laughed. “Come on, let’s spin, and then we can chat over coffee.”

  “I have to go somewhere where they have almond milk,” Janie said as we left the locker room, clicking in our spinning shoes.

  “
Oh God, what now?”

  “Listen, not all of us are so lucky to work out and eat what we want and then find love.”

  I punched her arm.

  “Okay, find like. But seriously, you’re such a happier person now that you write and eat a bit more. Me, I’ve got to watch my Jewish thighs. Lord help me if I gain another ounce. So I cut out dairy.”

  “That’s nuts, but okay. Only almond milk for you.”

  We spun, changed back into our clothes, and wrapped our sweaty bodies in our coats and walked down the street to a small coffee shop in the Village. We ordered and found ourselves a private table in the corner so I could tell Janie the whole story.

  Well, most of it. I kept what Layton did with his mouth to myself.

  I also kept my growing panic over how I didn’t deserve him to myself.

  The week dragged on. The producers were adamant that we wrap filming, and they were bugging me day and night for tweaks. In between redoing the sound track, I ran miles, logged a few more miles with Harriette, and obsessed over Charli.

  I wanted more than anything to be back there in her apartment, rolling in her lavender sheets with her in her pink panties and glossed lips. If I concentrated, I could still smell her on my shirt, but it wasn’t enough. Still, I had a job, one I’d worked hard for, and she was doing her thing. It was what it was.

  What would be enough?

  I e-mailed her every morning and she usually responded right away because of the time difference. We’d only spoken twice, and planned to get together in two weeks. She was going to come here for Saint Patty’s weekend, which scared the ever-loving shit out of me.

  Did she expect to meet my friends? They were pretty much all I had since my parents were older and lived in a nursing facility.

  Weird, I’d never even told her that. Would she care? Would she think I was callous? Maybe that’s why I didn’t say anything. Would she think my friends were dorks?

  The questions tumbled in my head as my feet slapped against the pavement. I would need a new pair of running shoes by the time she showed up in March at the rate I was going.