As Tears Go By

by Lydia Michaels

  “So in all this no strings attached, wild, anything I want sex, no cameras are allowed? I wouldn’t be able to take your picture?”

  What? “Of course not! Why would you want to?”

  He shrugged. “Souvenir.”

  “Oh.” Was he serious? She couldn’t tell. “Would my clothes be on?”

  He chuckled quietly and she still wasn’t certain if he was teasing. “If that was a condition, I suppose I could work with that.”

  She chewed the side of her lip. Now it seemed like the joke was definitely on her. “Okay.”

  His head tipped to the side. “Really?”

  “Um. Yeah.”

  “And you said your name was Becca?”

  “Yes. Becca.”

  He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Becca. I’m Braydon.”

  Braydon—such a great name—slowly reached for her wrist and lifted her limp arm, placing her palm softly against his. His fingers gave a light squeeze as he asked, “Do you live close?”

  Holy Hannah, was he actually agreeing to this insanity? Did single adults really behave this way? “Uhhh…” Passing out was a definite possibility. Her belly flipped with anxious bravadoes and a touch of fear. What if he was a serial killer? What if he was the next Jeffery Dahmer? Was she insane? She could not do this! Her feet shifted back a step but his fingers remained closed over hers. “Actually—”

  “Because my apartment’s right around the corner if you’d rather go there.”

  Her mouth snapped shut.

  “Is that your friend over there?” he asked. “She looks like she’s leaving.”

  Her head twisted and Nikki was indeed paying the check and grabbing her purse, a satisfied smirk on her face. She ambled over to the man’s table and extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Nikki.”

  Braydon finally released Becca and shook Nikki’s hand. “I’m Braydon.”

  “Nice to meet you, Braydon. I just wanted to let you know my brother’s a cop and my husband’s an investigator. Becca here is my best friend and I love her very much. I also collect samurai swords and know how to use them. I work in real estate, so I know lots of abandoned properties that would be great for getting rid of a body in a pinch. I think you and Becca are going to have buckets of fun tonight, but I’m gonna need your ID until she’s safely returned to me.”

  Braydon’s expression was blank. It probably matched Becca’s. Nikki had the biggest heart in the world. She was a tiny thing and had no problem showing the world that little things could pack a lot of excitement. Sort of like an atomic bomb, one measly spec of nothing, cut it open and—Boom!—there was crap everywhere. Nikki packed a bit more punch than that.

  Braydon’s cobalt eyes roamed over Nikki’s small frame and his mouth twitched as he chuckled. “You’re serious?”

  Nikki tipped her head in agreement and held out her palm. “As an enema. Hand it over, sweet cheeks, and your wish is Becca’s command.”

  “Nikki!”

  She ignored her. Leaning forward, her friend stage whispered to Braydon, “Did she mention she took years of yoga? Those legs can bend in ways you’ve never seen.”

  Braydon reached in his pocket and placed his driver’s license on the table. A small squeak escaped Becca’s throat as she stared in shock as Nikki pocketed his ID.

  “Awesomesauce. You kids have fun now. Call me in the morning, Becs.” And with that she skipped off, tapping over her pocket holding Braydon’s identity.

  Becca slowly pivoted and glanced at Braydon. “She was my ride.”

  He grinned. “I like her.”

  Becca laughed, sort of hollow-like. “She eats guys like you for breakfast.”

  He stood and slipped his arm around her waist, startling her as he drew her body close to his. “I don’t scare easily.” Oh, he was warm and much taller than Kevin. Pressing his mouth to her hair, he whispered, “But it’s a good thing I have you to keep me safe until morning.”

  God, he smelled so good her body shivered. Or was that a quiver of fear? Perhaps the kind someone suffers before they enter the secret lair of a mass murderer.

  “Shall we go?”

  Holy crap on a stick she was really going to do this. Blinking dumbly, a stab of something like her resurrected courage gave her a swift kick in the ass. Heck yeah, she was going to do this—after she found a pillow to scream into, of course.

  Closing her eyes, she breathed and issued a fast mental pep talk. She deserved this after everything she’d been through over the years. This was her reward, her due, and her duty to women everywhere.

  When she looked into his eyes again, the fanfare and trumpets playing in her head dwindled to a sound resembling a deflating balloon. How was she ever going to go through with this?

  * * * *

  Braydon turned the key and his apartment door clicked open. Placing his hand on Becca’s back, he escorted her inside. “Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Beer? Whiskey?”

  She stood awkwardly, shifting as if she wasn’t sure what to do—accept or bolt. Her slight fidgeting told him she was nervous enough for the both of them. It wasn’t like beautiful women frequently propositioned him.

  Pale blonde hair caught the light. A narrow headband held the flaxen strands away from her face. Give her a pair of patent leather Mary Janes and she’d be a grown up Alice in Wonderland. Nothing about her fit a woman familiar with propositioning strange men in a bar. Yet here she was.

  “I’ll just have some water if you don’t mind.”

  Braydon went to the fridge and removed a bottle. Taking down a glass from the stainless wall rack, he tried to ease some of the awkwardness. “So…how long were you married?”

  “Too long.” A nervous laugh hiccupped past her lips and she blushed. “Um, a little over ten years.”

  Passing her the water, she tipped it back, taking steady sips until the glass was empty. “Your place is nice. Clean.”

  “Thanks.”

  The condo was nice, but not home. It wasn’t what he wanted long-term. Being an architect, he hoped to one day build his own house. There was plenty of property back home in Center County to build on, but he worked out of Pittsburgh, which complicated things. Settling down was, luckily, a long way off. Still, he’d been saving for that moment since he started working.

  When he was younger, he imagined himself married right out of college. He’d even found a woman he thought was the perfect girl. Only problem…she up and married his brother. That was something that left a man a bit jaded and stuck in neutral.

  His attention returned to his guest. “Can I take your coat?”

  Becca shifted and slowly drew her arms out of the sleeves. After folding the thin wool jacket twice, she passed it to him. Carrying the coat to the wall, he hung it next to his. Not quite sure what was going to happen here, he played it casual, but certainly hoped she’d be removing more than her coat.

  “So…”

  “So…” she echoed.

  He sat on the couch and waved a hand for her to follow. Perching on the edge of the farthest cushion, she sat like she had a dowel up her ass. “You can relax. I’m not going to attack you.”

  “Oh, I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, no, not really. But you seem polite.”

  Chuckling, he said, “My mum would be glad to hear that.” He eased back, trying to make her a bit more comfortable. “Do you usually proposition strangers at bars?”

  She snorted. “No.” It was a completely unladylike sound, but he found it charming.

  “Yet you propositioned me. Why?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she explained, “It’s a long story. You met Nikki. She made me do it.”

  “Why?”

  Her expression tightened as if she were hosting some sort of mental debate. “Do you ever think this is my life and then—pow!—you realize everything you based your existence on was a crappy lie?”

  “Yes.”

  Her surprise was evident as his response caused
her gaze to jerk to his. “Really?”

  “Yup, but I want to hear your story first. Did your husband cheat on you?”

  “You could say that. I caught him having sex with our neighbor in our bed. Apparently she wasn’t the first.”

  Luckily, no one had ever truly cheated on him. Well, not really. “How long were you together?”

  “Since high school.”

  That was a long time. “Have you ever been with anyone else?”

  “No. It’s always been him. And according to Nikki, our love life was a joke.”

  “Why? I mean, aside from the other women.”

  Her lips pursed. “If you were married—Oh, God—you aren’t, right?”

  He laughed. “No. Never been married.”

  “Oh, well, if you were, how often would you…you know…?”

  “Fuck my wife?”

  Her eyes widened.

  He chuckled. “Sorry. I figured, under the circumstances, we could talk plainly. How often would my spouse and I make love?”

  “On average.”

  He considered this for a minute. “Probably four to five times a week. If we had children I’m sure that would change slightly, but I’d at least want to…make love to her a couple times a week.”

  “A week?”

  “Yeah. How often did you and your husband make love?”

  Her pale cheeks turned deep pink as she looked away. “Not that often.”

  “A couple times a month?”

  “Try a year.”

  His brows shot up, pulling his face tight. “Was your husband gay?”

  “What? No!”

  He laughed, astounded. “I’m sorry, it’s just…have you seen you? You’re a ten.”

  “A ten?”

  He didn’t want to come off like a creep, but the minute she’d introduced herself he’d, of course, perused her assets. Her high, full breasts looked to be a large B or small C. Her hips swelled at all the right places and her legs went on for days. Plus, she had the whole innocent Alice thing going for her. Give her an aproned dress and a sign that said “Eat Me” and he was going to Wonderland.

  “Trust me, you’re very attractive.”

  Her sensuous little mouth twitched into a nervous smile. “Thank you. You’re very handsome.”

  Braydon grinned. “So…do you want to tell me what smurf sex is?”

  “Ohmygod…” Her face fell into her palms. “I’m going to kill Nikki.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is all her fault. I didn’t even know what smurf sex was until an hour ago.”

  Though he didn’t know much about her, she was highly entertaining. Such capriciousness usually faded in women her age. He laughed. “I still don’t know.”

  “It’s when you…” She waved her hand in repetitious circles.

  “Fuck?”

  She made a sound of distaste and scrunched her nose.

  “Make love?”

  “Yes. Until you’re blue in the face.”

  His head tipped back and laughter bellowed from his chest. “So you just spent the last decade having religious sex and now you’re going for smurf?”

  Her brow crinkled. “We didn’t have religious sex.”

  “Sure you did. Got nun in the morning and nun at night.”

  Her mouth opened and she looked offended, but the truth was the truth. “Well, it wasn’t always like that. In the end it turned into hallway sex.”

  “What’s hallway sex?”

  “We’d only pass each other in the hall and I’d say screw you.” Her eyes twinkled, her disposition no longer showing offense.

  Now he was really laughing. “Well, I hope you at least had good courtroom sex and screwed the shit out of him during the divorce.”

  Her mouth tightened in a little smirk and the slightest chirp of laughter slipped out. Her fingers covered her lips as the chirps turned to giggles and then a snort snuck out.

  “You have a great laugh.”

  She sobered and lowered her gaze to the floor. “I shouldn’t be laughing about my marriage ending.”

  “It’s okay to laugh about it, Becca.”

  Her returning smile was shy at first, then beautiful, like a flower coming into bloom. “It was terrible,” she softly confessed. “Sometimes I wasn’t even sure if he was awake or if he’d fallen asleep on me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be almost thirty and not know what certain things feel like?”

  His amusement faded. “What do you mean?”

  Apparently startled by her own words, her expression paled. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “No. Tell me.”

  Her head lowered and she flicked a speck of lint off her jeans. “It was always the same, nothing fancy, and never with the lights on.”

  Looking at her, seeing her delicate profile and the feminine way she held herself, it was actually quite tragic this beautiful creature had been so neglected. “Did he at least make sure you…?” He censored his language, gathering she wasn’t used to crass words.

  The corners of her mouth pulled tight in a sad smile, and she slowly shook her head.

  Jesus. Who the hell was her husband and what was wrong with him? He considered their situation. Although she was the one to put the offer on the table, once he discovered how timid she was, he assumed they wouldn’t go through with it. But now...

  It was an absolute tragedy that this woman didn’t know what good sex was. “Did you really intend to sleep with me?”

  Her head snapped up and she gawked at him. Somehow, after all this, he’d managed to embarrass her. Her voice quavered. “Oh, you don’t have to. I can go if—”

  “I don’t want you to go.” Her timidity was incredibly sexy. He was honestly growing more intrigued with every word she said.

  Her breasts pressed against her shirt as her breathing picked up. “R—really?”

  He tipped his head. Come on. She couldn’t be that naïve. She had to know she was appealing as hell. She acted like he was doing her a favor, when in reality, he couldn’t think of a more attractive woman. “How would you like to do this?”

  She glanced around his apartment. “Should we go to your room?”

  “Depends. What are you in the mood for?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What are you hoping to gain here, Becca? Is there something specific you always wanted to try? Maybe a fantasy you had?” Figuring this was a one-time opportunity, he went for broke.

  Her little pink tongue darted out and traced over her full lower lip. “Um… I used to fantasize that Kevin—I mean—I used to think it would be fun if a guy sort of came up and was so…full of passion he’d take me like his life depended on it.”

  He must have done something really good to earn this sort of karma. “Do you want me to take you like my life depends on it?” He hoped she said yes, as that would be no fucking problem at all.

  Her face flushed and she lifted a shoulder. “It’s sort of all fake if we plan it. I don’t think it would be the same.”

  “Why don’t we kiss and see where things go?”

  The narrow column of her throat moved as she swallowed. In a hushed voice, she said, “Okay.”

  Braydon moved to the center of the couch. The energy of the room intensified and seemed to snap between them, turning electric and making the little hairs on his arm rise. Inflamed curiosity folded into raw desire as he breathed in her soft scent. Not wanting to startle her, he hoped she’d meet him halfway. “Come here.”

  Licking her lips again, she scooted close and he turned into her. Her eyes focused anywhere but on him. His fingers lifted her golden hair over her shoulder as he touched his lips to her neck, breathing in her delicate fragrance. At first, she flinched, but as his lips brushed her rapidly fluttering pulse, her posture slowly eased. “Mmm. You smell nice.”

  His tongue slowly flicked her ear and nibbled the tiny lobe between his lips. Sliding his fingers to her other ear, he tugged on the tiny pearl stud, massaging slowly unt
il she shivered.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Oh yes.” Her voice was breathless.

  His palm caressed her arm, reached for her knee and gently squeezed. “Why don’t you lie back and get comfortable?”

  It was almost impossible to stifle his chuckle as she gingerly scooted lower on the sofa. Not much, but it was enough. Dragging his mouth over the fine contour of her jaw, he traced over the corner of her mouth. As her lips parted his lust was provoked beyond his patience. “I really want to kiss you, Becca.”

  Her chest lifted with each breath. “You do?” Long lashes hid her eyes.

  His lips pressed to the crest of her cheek, dragging out the anticipation. “Mm-hm. I want to do other stuff to you too, but right now, all I can think about is kissing you like you’ve probably never been kissed before.”

  Soft breath puffed over his mouth and he could scent the fruity traces of whatever she’d been drinking at the bar. His fingers coasted up her arm, around her neck, and through her flaxen hair. His palm cupped the back of her head as his mouth slowly slanted over hers.

  A moan escaped as his tongue coaxed its way past her lips. Her mouth was soft and sweet. Kissing her slowly, he drew out her passionate side. His other hand cupped her jaw, his thumb massaging gently over the fine arch of her cheek. As her shoulders melted into the couch, she sighed, rocking his body with a responsive throb.

  The first timid caress of her tongue went right to his cock. He twisted his bulk and deepened the kiss. Her lips were perfect little slices of heaven, plump and succulent. It seemed she possessed some unfamiliar quality, a perfect blend of innocent curiosity that made her angelic. Nibbling her lower lip with his teeth, he chuckled against her mouth, his thoughts slipping into whispered words. “You’re an angel.”

  Her delicate hands hesitantly relaxed on his shoulders. Rising to his knees, he deepened the kiss, urging her lower on the sofa. Her fingers flexed into his shoulders and her breasts dragged softly against his chest.

  Easing back, he glanced at her through hooded eyes. Her hair was a spiral of gilded waves fanning out beneath her, her swollen lips a shade darker from kissing. The most peculiar colored eyes gazed up at him. They were Elizabeth Taylor eyes, such a fascinating shade of blue they could be mistaken for violet.