by Mistake: (Poison & Wine, book 1)

by Sigal Ehrlich

  My eyes rip open to the sound of my alarm, and as I haste to kill it. I find myself hindered by the warm body tangled with mine. I pat my way on the nightstand in search of my phone and finally manage to stop the noise. Now that I’ve silenced the rude awakening, I give my full attention to my current situation where Anna’s head is resting on my chest, her arm dropped leisurely on my stomach and one of her legs is strewn over my thighs. My heart drums as I nuzzle her hair with my nose, taking in her warm, sweet-powdery scent. On my chest, she gently turns her head. She tips it up, her eyes crawling hesitantly to mine.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whisper hoarsely.

  She doesn’t respond, she just stares at me for a silent beat. Eyes holding mine she slides inches higher on my body, the feel of her brushing against me robs me of my next breath. She’s an inch closer, numbing me with anticipation. And an inch closer. My heart is denting my ribcage with its thunderous drumming.

  An inch closer and . . . the inevitable happens.

  At first, it’s just a hesitant brush of her lips on mine. Feathery and electrifying, followed by her hand sliding gently to my stubbled cheek. Her fingers explore my neck, reaching up to my hair while her lips explore mine.

  And I’m fucking gone.

  With an incoherent growl that bubbles up from deep inside my throat, I press my lips to hers, tasting her. She inches closer and I send my hand to cup her butt and press her tighter against me. The feeling of her pressed so closely against me sends my eyes to roll back inside my head and for a lustful heat to take over me. We’re in a blur of limbs, lips, tongues, breathy gasps, urgent needy touches as if all the barriers have been broken and our desires are out to conquer. When my alarm sounds again and rips the silence of the room that was otherwise colored by sporadic breathy, needy sounds, there’s barely a sliver of space between us. We’re tangled together, my fingers grazing over Anna’s ribcage while hers rake through my hair, our mouths inches apart.

  The shrill sound persists, sobering us up.

  Anna burrows her face in my neck, and I raise my eyes to the ceiling as we both catch our breaths. I run my hand up and down her back. “I have to go.” My words come out graveled. My head spins with a million thoughts as I unpeel myself from her and shrug on my jeans.

  What was I thinking? I clearly wasn’t.

  Putting us in an intimate situation, no brainer, only a matter of time before a fire breaks out. I sit on the bed to put my socks and shoes on. As I lace one shoe, I throw Anna a look over my shoulder. She watches me quietly, hugging the comforter to her chest. When ramifications of what just happened start building up in my head, it overwhelms me. I need to talk to her. I’ll do it over dinner tonight. I must.

  Ready to leave, I turn to her and press a kiss to her forehead. “See you tonight.” And I head out of the room, afraid that if I stay even a second more, I’d either say something I’d regret or send everything to fucking hell and dive back into bed with her.

  Surround Yourself with Tacos and Not Negativity

  “Take a deep breath in,” I inhale, close my eyes and bam an image of Liam with eyes hooded slamming his lips on mine flashes before my eyes. A hot wave washes over me. And the feel of him conjures as if he’s touching me right now while I’m lying on a mat trying to bring these people to rhythmic yoga breathing. I can hardly bring a single breath into my own lungs without reliving the hottest makeout sessions in the history of makeout sessions.

  I inwardly shake off any thoughts of Liam and try to focus on the class I’m teaching. “Bring your hand to your ribcage and feel the breath.” Hand on ribcage, Liam’s hand on my ribcage. Bam, an image of him with his hair tousled as he looked at me like he’s seconds from ravishing me. Every point in my body remembers last night, and they all congregate to vehemently protest, we want more, we want more.

  I honestly don’t know how I managed to go through a yoga class, Pilates, and four aerobics classes today, but somehow it happened and I’m closing the studio to run home, do a quick shower and a couple of beauty touches, your usual get ready for a date thing. On my way home, I contemplate attire stuff. What does one wear to a casual dinner where you hope the tacos will be as good as promised and you’ll be dessert? Simple, something pragmatic and cute. A white cotton shirt dress that looks nice and can be removed in a blink paired with a jean jacket and pink ballerina flats that can be thrown off at a moment’s notice.

  I have about twenty minutes for all getting ready activities and with that in mind, I unlock the door and start shrugging my clothes off even before it’s completely shut.

  I’m breathless when I lock the door on my way out twenty minutes later and go on my merry way to eat dinner and then some. I search for keys when my phone beeps with an incoming message. With the car idling, I read the message from Panda.

  Pandora to CHICKENS: Okay, just shoot me. Make it quick so I won’t have to suffer anymore. I can’t do it myself, too much of a chicken shit, also having a hard time riding something as fabulous as me.

  Kayla to CHICKENS: I won’t do it myself, not too keen on doing time. But I know people.

  Victoria to CHICKENS: Who are you, DrummerGirl? Other Chickens who aren’t drummers and criminals in the making, there’s a background check to be had. I bet some unorthodox things are going on in the basement of DrummerGirl house.

  Kayla to CHICKENS: I know where you live, businesswoman barbie.

  Anna to CHICKENS: What have you done now, Pandora Violet Wallkins?

  Pandora to CHICKENS: So.

  Pandora to CHICKENS: I

  Pandora to CHICKENS: Left

  Pandora to CHICKENS: My

  Pandora to CHICKENS: Diva Cup in Jonathan’s bathroom.

  2 minutes later

  Anna to CHICKENS: Panda?

  Victoria to CHICKENS: Panda? where did she go?

  Kayla to CHICKENS: ?

  I start the car a moment later, and as I begin my drive my phone rings. Apparently, we’re on a conf call hosted by Panda. Next comes Panda’s voice raised and hurried. “And his parents came for a visit, the first time I meet them, can you imagine, and his dad comes out of the bathroom holding it in his hand, asking if it was a cup for mouthwash because it’s the right size and where can he get one. I almost died asking him if he happened to use it for . . . mouthwash. And then there was a whole conversation on how you use it. Not the best first conversation you want to have with your boyfriend’s parents.”

  Vicky produces some lovely retching sounds. “He touched it? I’m going to gag.”

  “Big deal, just plastic.” Kayla nonchalantly.

  “Big deal? Really though? His dad holding it. It was in her motherloving coochie, collecting blood,” Vicky adds, her voice a couple of octaves higher.

  “When you put it like that . . . ”

  “Panda, I’m sorry that was your first meeting with Jona – can we call the poor guy by his given name already?” I shake my head. “But think about it,” I add. “What a memorable one it was. You’ll be able to tell your kids how grandpa almost gurgled with mommy’s menstrual cup. Okay, I got to drop the call. I’ve arrived.”

  “Arrived where?” Pandora asks.

  “Liam’s.”

  “Oh, lil’ sis, enjoy the fuckathon,” Vicky contributes her little gem.

  I chuckle and say, “Don’t mind if I do. Byeeeeeee.”

  “Wait a minute, are they boning now?” I manage to hear Pandora ask before dropping the call.

  All through the drive a million and seven butterflies were doing the conga in my belly, drunk on tequila, wild and excited like catholic schoolboys at their first boy-girl party. And when I’m about to knock on the door they toss the smokes and drinks in panic, running amok every which way, wreaking havoc on my insides. I just know that something’s about to happen and it’ll change everything. I just know it and it scares me and excites me in equal measures.

  All of a sudden, I pause. I can’t decide on what to do when he opens the door. Do I wrap my arms around his neck
and kiss him like I want to? We kissed, right? It’s a milestone we crossed. But did it change anything, are we . . . together now? More precisely, are we kissing now? We did break the thou shalt be friendly and thou shalt not touch fundamental friends’ rule. Maybe I should sit and observe, see where he takes it? One little, okay more like one heavy, makeout session and everything’s changed.

  I take a deep breath and knock. Liam answers the door with a blue t-shirt that makes his eyes gleam, relaxed jeans, and a sweet side-smile. “Hey.”

  I take a step forward, deciding to do the casual kiss on the cheek thing that somehow brings us straight into Awkward Land. While I rise a little on my toes, aiming for his cheek, he embraces me with one arm and pecks my forehead with the most lackluster kiss. With this broken choreography, I end up with my face squashed to his shirt collar with my stupid lips puckered and one arm trapped under his armpit. And even as we ease back, something with our limb coordination doesn’t work. For a silly, clumsy moment we adjust ourselves, each collecting his own arms to his side and laugh self- deprecatingly.

  “We should seriously consider competing as a synchronized swimming duo. When’s the next Olympics?” I say.

  Liam scoffs. “I’ll look into it. Do they have mixed teams?” He deadpans. “Hungry?” He asks next, easygoing as ever.

  “Famished.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I frown. Am I, though. Your girl? Don’t say things like that if you’re not willing to stick your tongue down my throat, will ya? I inwardly giggle, imagining saying that out loud.

  The breakfast table in the rather cozy kitchen is set for two. Nothing too fancy, just . . . . nice and homey. I smile noticing he even went through the trouble of putting on a checkered tablecloth. I can’t imagine this is something he’d do ordinarily. There’s a bowl of guacamole, a bowl of tortilla chips, and two glasses.

  I snatch a tortilla chip, pile it with guac and load it into my mouth. I cover my mouth with my hand and say, “So good.”

  Liam sends me a grin. “Beer, wine?”

  “Beer, thanks.”

  “Grab a seat, food’s ready.”

  “It’s my first time cooking vegetarian tacos, so, if it’s shit you take the blame.”

  I laugh. “Thanks for the effort. I’m sure it’s going to be perfect. Anyhow, I’m so hungry I’d eat anything.”

  His turn to laugh. “Thanks for putting the standards so low. Appreciate it.” Liam opens two bottles of beer; he hands me one and turns to put on a mitten to bring the pot to the table. He sits down across the table from me, tossing the mitten in the direction of the kitchen counter, and nods, gesturing for me to dig in.

  I stare at him for a beat as he loads food onto a plate. Okay, alright, I get it, we’re being civil. I can do that. I guess the ripping each other’s clothes off part is planned for later. Maybe after dinner, makes sense – better stamina. I can get behind that. And speaking of food, I am truly famished. I’m running on a date and a few almonds after four consecutive aerobics classes. Running home, taking a shower, and doing last moment aesthetics modifications, a quick shave here, a little scrub there, didn’t leave me much time but to have a glass of water. So, yeah, hi tacos, you bad boys, come to momma.

  Liam bites into a taco with a boy-bite, the one that consumes half of the thing in one go. “Not as good as the real thing, but not too bad either.”

  I take a bite of mine. “Ummm. Perfection.” I kiss my fingers chef style. “Marry me, Liam Brody, and make me tacos every day!”

  “I do.” He smiles at me adorably. He tips his chin my way next. “You have—” He extends his hand and wipes whatever it is from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Guac,” he says and licks his thumb.

  You see there’s a very fine line between being utterly comfortable with a person and pressing all their hot buttons. You can’t do this after kissing me silly last night and expect me not to jump your stupid bones. I look for a distraction and find it in the suitcase standing by the wall. “All packed?”

  He nods, avoiding my eyes. “So, you’re going to have your own studio,” he says next. Feels like a diversion from addressing his going away.

  I swallow and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I’m so thrilled. Up until now I didn’t allow myself to even think about it too much, not until I got the loan. But now, there’s so much I want to do. I have a whole plan for the next couple of years. I want to add Reformer Pilates classes, but that’ll have to wait for a while.”

  “Why’s that?” Liam asks, tipping the beer bottle toward his mouth.

  “Well, for starters the actual machine costs around 10k, not to mention the certification only is 3k.” He nods. “I want to do some minor aesthetics maintenance. I’ll begin with things I can do by myself on weekends and go from there.”

  Dinner is pleasant, our conversation as ever flows, besides Liam’s weird avoidance of talking about his trip. I drop it, not bringing it up anymore either.

  “I’m literally fighting myself not to eat another one,” I say, eyeing the shells with utter yearning.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I’m stuffed, but they’re so good.” I let out a little groan that makes him chuckle.

  His smile lingers then slowly his expression evolves into something a little more intense. His eyes search mine; he opens his mouth to say something and closes it. He drops his eyes to the table and squeezes the life out of a poor, innocent napkin.

  “Hey, tell me something that I don’t already know about you. Shock me.” I attempt to lighten whatever came over him.

  Liam’s smile returns. He looks relieved. Grinning, he says, “I got arrested once.”

  I gape at him. “You? What the hell for?”

  His grin grows. “Breaking hearts.”

  I toss a napkin at him. “Ha. Funny.”

  He turns to peel the label off the bottle. “No seriously. In college.” He sends me a small, sinister smile.

  I beam in return. “I’m all ears, Dr. Brody.”

  He slouches a little in the chair, sending his arm to rest on the next chair. “I went to a bar with some friends to shoot pool. Someone accidentally spilled a bit of a drink on my shirt. As I was driving back home, I got pulled over. The officer was of the enthusiastic kind, was certain I was drunk from the alcohol smell and arrested me of course. I didn’t even have a drink. I was planning on studying later on. So, there I was, booked, fingerprinted, photographed, and thrown in the slammer. Totally sober.”

  My lips part. “No.”

  “Only then did they do the breathalyzer test and surprise, surprise, I blew a 0.0 on the test. I swear, it was such a mess having it removed from my record. A near act-of-congress.”

  “Oh wow. Color me shocked.”

  “What about you?”

  “Just an offense of exposure.”

  His eyes cut to mine with the bottle of beer mid-air touching his lips.

  “Just kidding, as opposed to you, lawbreaker, my rap sheet’s clean.” I look at him. “I thought I knew everything about you. I guess there’s always more to learn.”

  His eyes rise from the bottle in his hand to mine. “I don’t think many people know me as well as you do.” He takes a deep breath and stands abruptly. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  “I thought I was supposed to do them, remember for you staying over last night.” My eyes are trained on him, begging for some sort of reaction with the mention of Last. Freaking. Night.

  “Nah, that’s okay. You’re a guest.”

  Nothing. I want to growl and instead suggest cleaning together.

  I put some music on my phone, and we start cleaning up. I rinse the dishes and Liam puts them in the dishwasher. We laugh at lame jokes and tease each other. As ever, we are having a great time together. That’s why when I expect the evening to go in one direction and realize he opts for a very different one, I’m left baffled and disappointed.

  We’re sitting on the living room sofa, softer music in the background and
when I inch closer, Liam gets to his feet. “I guess we should call it a night?”

  What the . . . Not only did I expect to continue where we left off last night; this is how he wants to end our last time together before he leaves in two days for six freaking weeks? And as I stand there, blinking at him, he walks toward the door.

  I’m too stunned to ask him why he’s being so weird. I grab my bag and follow him to the door, my brows set in pinched confusion. As I reach the open door, mind you, I lift my eyes to Liam and I’m surprised to find him looking nothing but tormented. I take a deep bitter breath of rejection and say, “Well, take care.” I rise to the balls of my feet and press a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his jaw. I’m out the door followed by a murmured good-bye from him.

  He closes the door behind me. Feeling like I’m about to collapse, I lean on the wall, looking up I ask whoever is up there for enlightenment as to what just happened. A sobering moment later, I decide that no! I’m not letting him get away with this bullshit. I take a breath of composure and lift my fist to the door. If I could describe this moment in three words, it would be: panic, panic, hope.

  The door rips open with my hand still airborne; I didn’t even manage to knock and there’s Liam, his eyes determined on me. I take a hesitant step forward and gasp as two strong hands lift me in a way that makes me wrap my legs around his waist. My next breath is swallowed by his mouth. I drop my bag to the floor as Liam kick shuts the door behind us and pins me on it. The next few moments are consumed by unleashed desire. My hands are in his hair, his lips are nearly violent on mine. Whatever made him guarded earlier just exploded into . . . this. Glory hallelujah!

  And then, without warning, he draws back, leaning his forehead to mine with labored breath. “Anna,” no one has ever said my name so deliciously hoarse. I bring my lips forward, aiming for his mouth. “Anna, love, we need to talk.”