by Penny Reid
But that was a lie.
There was no way in hell I was going back.
In that moment I knew with a sudden, implacable force that I had been right. I would never be able to be just friends with Martin Sandeke. I would never be able to see him and not want everything from him. I would always be drawn to him. I also knew that being with Martin wasn’t necessary for my happiness, but I could never be happy as just his friend.
I was passionate about him, and I couldn’t be unselfish or reasonable or calm where he was concerned.
As I threaded my way through the twists and turns of the screens, I felt the first stinging tears behind my eyes. Finally I made it to the front and I plucked my coat from the rack by the front door, then bolted out of the restaurant.
My feet didn’t hurt, but they would, because I was going to have to walk at least four blocks to find a taxi.
CHAPTER 14
Nuclear Chemistry
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head and blew my nose.
It was stuffy.
I’d been crying.
But I wasn’t crying now.
Yet my nose was still stuffy.
“No.”
“At least tell me what happened!” Sam shook her fists at me in frustration, grumbling, “I’m dying here. You have to give me something. Do I need to take a hit out on Martin Sandeke? I will, you know. I have some Russian cousins who need an outlet for their aggression.”
I gave a pitiful laugh and shook my head. “No. It’s not his fault. I just…I just said something stupid, then regretted it, then left.”
“Oh.” Her eyes moved over me. Sam seemed to be planning her strategy as I pulled off the shoes she’d loaned me and placed them next to the bed.
After escaping from the restaurant I flagged down a taxi six blocks away, started to cry, then paid the exorbitant cab fare, and started to cry even harder.
I snuck into the apartment. Sam didn’t hear me as she was singing loudly in the shower, then lay on my bed and cried. I cried into my pillow, quietly, just like old times.
Despite my carefulness, Sam heard me and came to the door dressed only in a towel.
Now we were in my bedroom and I was a pitiful mess. So much for trying to be strong on my own.
“I never want to see him again,” I said to no one. “Just thinking about the possibility makes me want to join the Peace Corps and fly to a far off third world country. Hopefully they’ll have closets.”
“What did you say? It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“I told him I was still in love with him.”
“Oh…oh!” She gripped her towel tighter, her eyes large as saucers. “Holy shit. What did he say?”
“Nothing. He ordered an appetizer.”
“What?” Now she sounded pissed.
“So I got up and excused myself for the bathroom, but I left instead. He was probably relieved when he figured out that I left. God, I am so stupid.” My chin wobbled again and I held my forehead with my fingertips.
Yes, I felt remorse and the pain of rejection, but I also felt relief. At least now it was over. At least now I knew for certain. Despite the clumsiness of my confession I’d finally freed myself.
Now I could move on and stop wishing. I could pick my crumpled heart off the floor and stop stepping all over it.
Sam took a deep breath and was possibly about to give me some words of wisdom, but a pounding on the front door interrupted her.
We both sat up straight and stared at each other.
Then we heard Martin’s raised voice.
“Kaitlyn, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
I stood abruptly, my hands balled into fists, a thunder bolt of white hot mortification slicing through me. I was suddenly sweating.
“Oh my God. What do I do?” I whispered, which was silly because he wouldn’t be able to hear me all the way in my bedroom.
Sam looked at me, stunned. “Open the door…?”
I shook my head frantically. “No. No, I can’t. I can’t face him. Please don’t make me.”
She gave me a sad look. “Oh, Kaitlyn—”
“I mean it. Open this door,” he bellowed from the hall. He sounded really, really angry.
“I’ll just tell him to go away, that you don’t want to see him,” Sam offered.
“No. That won’t work. I have to hide.” I nodded at this thought because I was crazy. “Tell him I’m not here.”
“You want me to let him in?”
“Yes. You get the door. Tell him I’m not back yet. He’ll…well, he might want to wait for a bit, but you tell him to leave. He won’t stay in the apartment if you—”
“I’m going to count to ten and then I’m going to break this door down.”
We both jumped at the sound of his threat.
Sam shook her head, her mouth curved in a frown of knowing better. “He won’t be able to break the door down,” she whispered, “it’s reinforced steel.”
“Okay, I’ll go hide—”
“One.”
“—in the front closet.”
“Two.”
“You let him in.”
“Three”
“Tell him I’m—”
“Four.”
“-—not here, not back yet.”
“Five.”
“He’ll leave.”
“Six.”
“Then—”
“Seven.”
“—we’ll be all clear.”
“Eight.”
She nodded her understanding and I tiptoed out of my room, running as lightly as possible. Sam loitered behind.
“Nine.”
Sam called out, “Just a minute, Sandeke. I was in the shower. Hold your ball sack!”
I went to the hall closet where I’d been hiding earlier and shut the door behind me, pressing myself backward into the folds of the coats. My hands were shaking.
“Ten.”
I heard the door swing open.
I heard his steps thunder into the apartment.
I heard Sam shut the door.
I heard her follow him, shouting, “What are you doing?”
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Sam...” His voice sent a shiver down my spine. He was really mad. I didn’t think he’d be angry.
“What?”
“Where is Kaitlyn?”
“Why? What did you do to her?” Sam was also angry.
They sounded faraway, so I guessed they were in my room. I also noticed Sam was trying not to lie if at all possible.
“I know she’s here, Sam.”
His steps came closer then farther away. In my mind’s eye I saw him marching into Sam’s bedroom, coming up empty, then moving on to the bathroom, kitchen, then living room.
“If she’s here, then where is she, Martin?” Sam was staying on his heels. They walked past the closet again. It sounded like he was going back to my room.
There was quiet and I held my breath, clutching my hands in front of me. Then a really terrible, terrible thing happened. It made my blood run cold and my entire body freeze.
“If she’s not here, Sam…” his tone was glacial, beyond incensed, “then why are the shoes she was wearing earlier next to her bed?”
Sam said nothing. I covered my face with my hands and closed my eyes. I was such an idiot. In the dictionary next to the word idiot was a picture of me. But it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered because he was going to find me and then I was going to expire from a broken heart and embarrassment.
Embarrassment, mortification, chagrin, unease, discomposure… GAH! The synonym game wasn’t helping!
I heard footsteps.
He was coming.
I heard a hand on the doorknob.
He was there.
I heard the door swing open.
It was him.
I heard the light click on.
I couldn’t open my eyes. I’d exhausted my co
urage earlier in the restaurant. I had none left.
But when I heard the door shut, I dropped my hands and I found myself face-to-face with a very irate Martin Sandeke.
That’s right. He was in the closet with me and he’d just closed the door. I stared at him. I knew I looked panicked because some of his irateness ebbed and became cautiousness.
At length he said, “Parker.”
“Sandeke,” I responded automatically.
“What are you doing?”
“Uh…” I released the breath I’d been holding. My eyes darted to the door behind him and I betrayed the truth of it. “I’m hiding in the closet.”
His brow was still furrowed, but his gaze relaxed slightly. When he spoke, he spoke very slowly, like he was trying not to frighten me. “Why are you hiding in the closet?”
“Why does anyone hide in a closet?” My voice was very small, my chin wobbled, and as new tears flooded my vision, he began to blur a little.
Martin lifted a single eyebrow and stalked closer, raising then showing me the palms of his hands. He was less than a foot away when he gently wrapped his long fingers around my upper arms.
“Do you hide in the closet often?” His voice was soft and his eyes moved over my face, likely taking in the smudged mascara and resultant raccoon eyes.
I realized abruptly that we’d had this conversation before. Except it was in a chemistry lab and I’d been unable to scratch an itch. Maybe I hadn’t made as much progress as I thought. Maybe all these months of trying to be someone different, better, stronger, more passionate had been futile.
Or maybe it was Martin. Perhaps I’d always be the girl hiding in the science cabinet, hiding from Martin Sandeke.
“Sometimes.” I choked on the word, my jaw clenched, and I willed the tears to recede. Instead one spilled down my cheek. His eyes followed its progress then moved back to mine.
“Is this an everyday thing?” he asked in a near whisper, his thumbs brushing lightly over the sleeves of my dress.
He was confusing me and I heaved a sob, my chin falling to my chest and said, “No. Only on special occasions, like when I make an idiot of myself and tell Martin Sandeke that I’m still in…in…in—”
I didn’t finish because he slid his finger under my chin, lifted my face to his, and kissed me.
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, did he ever kiss me.
It was a devouring kiss, a hungry kiss, a demanding, a claiming, a merciless kiss. He crushed me to him and swept his tongue into my mouth, leaving me no chance to breathe or recover or think.
And it went on and on. Martin dipped his head to one side then the next, his hands roaming over my body, grabbing and squeezing and reaching for the hem of my dress, sliding his hand against the soft silk. It was only when his fingers connected with the straps of my garter belt did he lift his head and let me breathe. And that was only because he wanted to release a string of expletives as he confirmed I was, in fact, wearing thigh highs; and I was, in fact, wearing lacy panties.
“Fuck me,” he finished, his eyes moving back to mine, turbulent yet determined.
Meanwhile I was trying catch my breath. “Martin, I—”
“Parker, I fucking love you. I’ve always loved you. I never stopped.”
I could hardly believe his words. I felt suddenly weightless, overwhelmed, and bursting with such intense levels of joy I just barely contained my instinctual desire to do a jig.
He continued, sounding stern yet tender, “And you really, really pissed me off when you left tonight.”
“I’m sorry I did that.” I nodded, smiling because I was level one million happy.
“I forgive you.” He returned my grin.
This made me frown. I wasn’t the only one who’d been an idiot, so I pointed at his chest with my finger. “But, in all fairness, you ordered an appetizer.”
“So?”
“So? So I tell you I love you and you order escargot.”
Martin, still grinning, bent and kissed my neck, then bit it. It hurt a little and it felt wonderful. His breath was hot against my skin. “You shocked the hell out of me. I didn’t know. I had no idea. I never know what you’re thinking. You hide everything behind those gorgeous gray eyes…”
I’d missed his sharp teeth and leaned my head to one side to give him better access, pressed against him. I couldn’t think. All I knew was we were in a closet kissing, his amorous hands were up my skirt, and the figurative Bunsen burner in my pants demanded satisfaction.
“Martin—”
“There has been no one else since you. No one.” His mouth was hot on my skin, devouring me. “You’re all I think about, all I want. You are everything.”
Oh, gah! Right in the feels!
I braced my hands against his chest before he could capture my mouth again, needing to tell him the whole truth. “Listen, wait, I know we have a lot to discuss and this is all very sudden, but—”
“Sudden?” He reeled back a bit. His contemptuous tone and slightly horrified expression told me he disagreed.
“Yes, I mean—one minute we’re friends, or we’re working on being friends, and the next minute I’m telling you I’m still in love with you…” I searched his eyes, made sure he was really looking at me. I wanted him to understand this wasn’t temporary, that my feelings weren’t going to change. “But, you need to know, this wasn’t sudden for me. I made up my mind last week, after you explained things in New York, but before you came to the coffee shop. I want to be with you. I don’t want to be just friends. That’s not going to work for me.”
His mouth hitched to the side and his hands on me tightened. “Kaitlyn, I decided we were never going to be just friends the moment you walked into chemistry lab last year. We were never going to be just friends. That wasn’t ever going to work.”
“But. But. You said—”
“I lied.”
My mouth fell open.
He shrugged, showing me he did not regret this lie. “I was tired of waiting. I needed you to forgive me, show you I’ve changed, but I knew you wouldn’t listen to me if I showed up at your door and demanded we get back together—which is what I wanted to do. Christmas was extremely frustrating because I saw you were taking my offer of friendship seriously, and you were trying to do the right thing.”
“I did take it seriously. I wanted to be your safe place,” I admitted with a new rush of emotion that stung my eyes. “I love you, I care about you, and I wanted to be there for you even if you didn’t love me… But my pants kept getting in the way.”
Martin smiled very briefly at the mention of my pants, but then he scowled. His tone became fierce and angry as he leaned farther away. “Don’t ever think that I never loved you.”
“I—”
“When you said that to me in New York, when you told me you didn’t think I’d ever loved you, I swear to God I wanted to strangle you. I’ve never felt like such a failure.”
“Oh, Martin, I promise, I didn’t say it to hurt you. I didn’t.” It was important he believe me.
“I know. You didn’t think I cared. I figured that out later, when you were asleep on top of me on the couch, after I acted like a fuckwad and suggested sex with no strings, wanting to hurt you back. I am sorry about that,” he whispered, sounding truly remorseful.
Yet his hands, having now lifted my skirt completely over my hips, were currently taking liberties with the bare skin of my torso, my back, and delving into the lace of my underwear.
“I forgive you,” I gasped, a hot cascade of chaotic need coursing through me, everywhere he touched igniting my arousal. My movements became jerky and frantic as I pushed away his jacket and coat, and grabbed for his zipper.
“Kaitlyn—”
“Everything is forgiven,” I added in a rush, tired of talking. We weren’t friends—well, we were friends. But now we would never be just friends. There was no reason we couldn’t get started being more than friends.
Right. This. Second.
Martin caug
ht my wrists, halting my progress, his breathing labored. “No, no—we’re not doing this yet.”
“But I need you, I need to feel you,” I whined.
“Don’t—”
I tried a different approach, lowering my voice and cupping his erection through his pants. “I love you. I want to make love to you. I need you inside me.”
Martin groaned inelegantly, a despairing, needy sound. Pressing his lips against mine, he silenced me with the hot slide of his mouth, his invading tongue. Martin brought my hands to his sides and trapped them there.
My heart soared even as my lower belly flip-flopped then twisted with erotic anticipation. He released my wrists and one of his hands moved on my thigh and between my legs, shifting the lace panties to one side so he could touch my center. I inhaled sharply, arching at the contact, my eyes half closing.
“So wet for me…I love how you feel. I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He sounded mesmerized and a little vicious. “Tell me how much you need me.”
I couldn’t form words because…sex.
“Say it.” He paired this demand with a stroke of his finger. I realized he was unbuckling the belt of his pants with his other hand.
I shuddered in response to his skilled fingers, having to hold onto him “I need you, I need you so much,” I barely managed to say.
I felt the words.
I felt them to my bones.
I never wanted to be separated from him again.
He was pressing me against the coats and my hands wound around his neck. His pants dropped to the floor, leaving him in boxer briefs. I reached for them frantically and pushed them down, freeing his penis.
I gripped it. Stroked it twice. I felt it, and it felt amazing, and right, and crucial.
He hissed, “You’re still on birth control, yes?”
I nodded, rocking my hips into his hand, feeling him there, needing more.
He kissed my lips harshly, then said against them, “I haven’t been with anyone but you. Not since the boat. Not for months before that. I haven’t wanted anyone but you. I never want to be with anyone but you. You’re all I can think about. Just you, only you.”
I moaned. The time for coherent thought had officially passed. I understood what he was saying so I nodded my head, giving him permission to do what I’d been fantasizing about since it first happened.
