by Nikki Chase
“Yeah, it’s me. What were you expecting? A business conference call from China?”
“I’m going home,” she says.
“I know. Sorry I can’t pick you up.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you finally have a life.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. She’s the entirety of my social life, and she should know it.
I’m about to say something into the phone when a pair of delicate, feminine hands touch my back and wrap around my waist.
Sophia.
I almost choke when I feel her chest pressing against me. Again, at an inappropriate moment, my cock stirs.
Holy hell, is she still naked?
I look over my shoulder just to find that she’s wearing her shirt from last night although I’m absolutely sure there’s no bra over those plump, juicy tits. God, they feel heavenly.
“Eli?” Nicole asks, reminding me she’s still on the phone. “Can I go now?”
“Right. Sorry, I know how busy you are.” I clear my throat, trying to recover. It’s not easy when Sophia’s hands are snaking down front, on their way to the rock-hard cock testing the stretch on my pants.
“Are you with a girl?” Nicole asks suspiciously.
“What? No,” I answer, a little too quickly.
She pauses, then says, “Okay.”
“Yeah, uh, take care, okay? Stay safe.”
“Of course.”
“Love you.” I end the call the way I always do.
“Love you, too, Eli.” She hangs up.
I put the receiver down on the landline phone.
Shit. What do I do now? There are bound to be some difficult questions coming from Sophia now. Although, judging from the way her hands are still slowly but decidedly heading south, she thinks nothing of what I just said before hanging up.
“So, how’s your mom?” Sophia asks.
Of course. She thinks I was talking to my mom.
“She’s doing well.”
I can’t keep up this ruse. Technically, I’m not lying because my mom is doing okay, but . . .
“Mmm . . . Good to hear that,” Sophia says, her fingers slipping underneath my shirt and tracing the lines of my abs. “She’s not coming here to clean the place up right now, is she?” She giggles. “I remember that time when we had to sneak out through the back door.”
Fuck. There’s no escaping it now.
As much as I want to find out what Sophia plans to do once she reaches the waist of my pants, I can’t keep her in the dark.
It’s time for some hard, difficult truths.
I just hope she’ll still look at me the same way when we’re done talking.
“Sophia.” I grab her wrists and turn around to face her. The evil part of me is cursing at this stupid decision, but I love her too much to think with the wrong head at the moment.
“What is it? You said we could continue where we left off last night?” Sophia’s full lips spread into the sweetest smile. A playful twinkle flashes in her big, green eyes. “See? I remember. I wasn’t that drunk.”
I regret the words before they even leave my mouth, but I have to say them out loud. “Sophia, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Sophia
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he says, running his fingers through his thick hair like he always does when something is stressing him out.
“The thing you’re about to tell me, does it have something to do with the bulge in your pants?” I ask, shooting Eli a naughty grin.
He shakes his head. “No.”
I don’t like his grim expression. And, I don’t like the words that came out of his mouth. And, I don’t like having yet another thing interrupt us.
I was so ready to jump his bones last night, and I thought it was actually going to happen. This morning, I woke up ready to spread my legs for him, and I thought he was finally going to fuck me.
And now, to find out there’s something standing in our way, still? It’s disappointing, to say the least.
“Sophia?” Eli stares at me, concern etched into the deep lines forming on his forehead.
I can’t do this. I need more time. More time to pretend everything’s fine between the two of us. That’s what I need . . . to have sex with him and get him out of my system.
I need more time. Not serious conversation.
“Let’s go downstairs.” I take him by the hand and pull him toward the door leading to the basement.
Eli remains silent as we descend the stairs. But, as I hit the light switch, he asks, “Why are we here?”
“Why don’t you show me the cellar?” I ask. “You said you had a kick-ass cellar last night.”
“That’s not really . . .” Again, Eli combs his hair back with his fingers in frustration. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do right now? There’s something important I need to tell you.”
“Hmmm . . .” I cup my chin. “I’m not buying it.”
“What?”
“I’m not buying it. I think you’re just trying to hide all your fancy wine from me.”
“Sophia . . .” Eli’s thick eyebrows collapse with worry. He lets go of my hand and puts his palms together like he’s begging me to listen. “I’m serious. There’s something you need to know.”
I’m serious, too. What he doesn’t know is I don’t want to know whatever it is he wants to tell me.
“All I need to know is what’s inside your cellar.” I try to maintain a steady, carefree voice. But, my body betrays me. A lump appears in my throat as tears prick my eyes.
I’m not ready for this to end.
It doesn’t have to be forever, but I don’t want it to end now.
Eli observes me for a few quiet seconds before he finally nods. “Okay.”
He takes my hand and leads me toward a door at the end of the basement. I follow behind him, secretly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand when my view of his back grows blurry.
By the time Eli holds the door to the cellar open, I’ve regained enough composure to squeal with fake excitement as I check out the labels on the bottles of wine resting on the shelves.
Truth be told, I don’t know much about wine. I don’t care enough about it to differentiate between a ten-dollar bottle and a thousand-dollar bottle.
The only thing that matters is I hold onto Eli’s hand the whole time we’re in the small, temperature-controlled room.
I’m not letting go of him before I’m ready this time.
I waste as much time as I can in the cellar. Then, I look up at Eli. “I’ve been eyeing that pool table since last night. Can we use it?”
“Sure,” he says, smiling with sad eyes that make me want to cry.
I look away and lead the way out. “Let’s get out of here.”
We stay quiet as we pick up our cue sticks. I rub the tip with the blue chalk thingy. From the time Eli first taught me to play, I’ve never actually figured out what it does. But, it’s a good distraction.
As I arrange the colorful little balls in the wooden triangle, I ask, “Do you want to break the rack?”
“Sure.”
I watch Eli bend down and take aim at the pool balls. With his focus on the game, I can watch him to my heart’s content.
Lines appear on his forehead as he lifts his eyebrows, his gaze sharp. His hands grip the stick firmly and for a moment, I recall the way those same hands yanked me against his body last night, the way they touched me until I lost my mind.
Eli shouldn’t have been worried about the wine last night. He had a way more dangerous effect on my level of lucidity.
The white cue ball smashes the rack and sends the other balls crashing against each other and the edges of the pool table. Amid the raucous noises, I watch a ball fall into one of the pocket at the corner of the table.
I take a sip of the wine as I admire Eli’s strength and precision. The man is good at whatever he chooses to do with his hands. I can see the same level of skill in the beautiful pieces of
furniture he shapes with those same hands.
And when he chooses to direct all that energy toward making me scream out his name in pleasure . . .
“Sophia, it’s your turn.” Eli says, snapping me back to the present. He gives me an easy grin—looks like a friendly game of pool is exactly what he needs to relax after all. “You’re stripes.”
Grabbing my cue stick, I pick my target and take my aim. I don’t have to look his way to know he’s staring at my ass when I bend down. I can feel the heat of his stare; it’s almost like a physical sensation.
“Do you want me to get some wine from the cellar?” he asks.
“What, is that a scheme to make me lose this game?” I glance at him and give him a coy smile.
I’m not drinking today. If that will make Eli hesitate when the time comes for him to spread my legs and sink himself all the way inside me, I won’t do it.
“What?” Eli arches a thick, dark eyebrow. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve been playing since you were a little girl. I taught you how to play.”
“Exactly. I learned from the best.” I hit the ball exactly where I wanted to, and it goes into a pocket with a satisfying thock. I twist around the table and hit another ball into a pocket.
“Not bad,” Eli says.
If only you were as straightforward as a game of pool, I want to say.
I miss my next shot.
“You should’ve hit harder,” Eli says.
I want you to hit me harder, I instantly think to myself.
Damn it, just being in Eli’s vicinity is enough to turn my brain into filthy mush. That sentence didn’t even make much sense. I swear I’ve never been like this with any other guy.
“Let me show you how it’s done,” he says.
It’s my turn to step aside and stare at his cute butt. I’d love to give it a squeeze, preferably while he’s on top of me, thrusting into me while I’m pulling him deeper inside.
Eli slams two balls into the pockets. Maybe three. I don’t know. I’m not paying much attention to what’s happening on the table.
The view of Eli’s hard, sculpted body is too distracting. When he leans his body down across the pool table, his checkered flannel shirt drapes closely over him, letting me see the gentle curve of his spine and the muscled bulk of his upper back. As he draws the pool stick back, I stare at the bulging muscles in his arms.
As Eli straightens his back and stands up to his full height, my eyes roam freely over his physique, thinking he’s too absorbed in the game to notice.
“Your turn,” he says in his low, velvety voice. A smug smirk forms on his lips. No doubt, he has noticed. And, it looks like he doesn’t mind.
I grab the stick and watch with satisfaction as his eyes glaze over. I remember that look from the time he gave me lessons that invariably ended with his hard dick pressing against my ass by the pool table. No doubt he’s thinking about some other things around which I could curl my fingers.
“I want to hit the nine ball into the side pocket. I think I need a little help.” I glance at Eli and give him a small smile. “Want to show me how to do it, teach?”
Eli gulps visibly, which makes my smile spread a little wider. Despite his protests, I can tell he wants me. So, why is he making this more difficult than it has to be?
My heart starts pounding as Eli rests one hand on the edge of the pool table. This feels familiar. Seductively familiar. Then, he wraps his other hand over mine on the stick and leans down over my back.
“You said I needed to do it harder, didn’t you?” I ask softly.
“You’re standing all wrong,” he says, clearing his throat. “You need to . . . spread your legs wider.”
“Why don’t you show me how?”
Eli reaches down and puts his hands on my hips. The heat from his body penetrates my sweatpants and sears into my skin.
To my disappointment, once he gets me into position, he lifts his hands back up to grip the pool stick, standing close enough behind me for me to feel his breath but not close enough for my to feel his hard chest against my back.
Despite my frustration, I decide to be patient.
Eli helps me hit the nine ball into the side pocket like I said I wanted to.
What’s the matter? Is there another woman? As long as she’s not a girlfriend or a wife, why should it matter? Maybe that’s a callous thing to say, but I won’t even think twice about throwing morals out the window when it concerns Eli.
“Obviously, you’ve had more practice than I have, what with having a table in your basement,” I say as Eli stands back to watch me take aim at another striped ball.
“You could say that.”
“Do you invite your friends here often?” My heart is racing. This is not the main question I want him to answer, but I’m heading there.
I guess I want us to talk, after all. I need to know why he wanted me yesterday and yet he’s treating me like I’m poison today.
“Not really. I don’t have friends.” Eli chuckles.
“You don’t play against yourself, do you?” I play it off as a casual, teasing remark, but it’s killing me to think about him pressed up against some other woman’s backside.
Maybe they even have sex on this very table. The old Eli I remember wouldn’t have thought twice about pushing me down on the green felt and devouring me right here.
“No.” Eli lets out another low chuckle, but it sounds forced this time. And, why isn’t he offering more information? Why doesn’t he tell me who he takes back to this cabin with him?
“Is it a girl, then?” I try to maintain the same breezy tone, but it’s hard. My vision blurs as, unexpectedly, tears prick my eyes.
“Well . . .” Eli’s sentence hangs cruelly in the air as cracks appear on the surface of my heart. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I square my shoulders and plant the butt of the pool stick on the ground. Staring straight into Eli’s eyes, I ask, “Do you have a girlfriend, Eli? Did you lie to me yesterday?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk. You just wanted to play,” he says, obviously stalling.
“I’ve changed my mind.” Challenging him with my eyes, I ask, “So . . .?”
Eli
“So . . .? Did you change your mind about wanting to talk, as well?” Sophia speaks in that steely voice she uses when she’s upset but she’s trying not to cry.
“Not at all.” I let out a deep sigh. “I wanted us to talk before we got to this point.”
“To what point?” she asks, her eyebrows drawn together.
“The point at which you suspect me of doing something . . . shady.” I want to go over there and pull her into my arms, but I don’t think that would be a smart decision. I may end up with claw marks all over my skin—and not the good kind.
“I don’t suspect you of anything,” she insists, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the pool stick her knuckles have turned white.
Liar.
“You just asked me if I had a girlfriend,” I remind her.
“It was just a question.” Sophia shrugs.
“It was a pretty loaded question.”
“Are you going to answer it or not?”
I look around the basement. Pointing at the couch in front of the big TV screen, I ask her, “Can we sit down and talk about this?”
“Of course.” As Sophia rests her pool stick on the table, it nudges a few balls and ruins the game.
But, let’s face it, neither one of us cares about the game anymore. Maybe neither one of us ever did. It was just a distraction to keep our attention off the elephant in the room.
I wince as Sophia sits at the end of the long couch, her ass pressing against the armrest.
I take my seat somewhere in the middle of the three-seater.
Sophia says nothing. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes convey her distrust of me clearly enough.
“What I wanted to say was, that wasn’t my mom on the phone.” I speak calmly, hoping she’ll be m
ore likely to hear me out. I attempt a joke. “She is doing well, though. Thanks for asking.”
“So, who was it?” she asks.
“That was Nicole. My niece.”
Sophia furrows her brows and tilts her head in confusion. “You have a niece?”
“Yeah.” There’s so much information I can tell Sophia about Nicole, but I stay quiet, letting her process what I’ve already told her so far.
“You mean . . . Angela’s daughter?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“But . . .” Sophia gazes into the distance. “But I saw her in San Francisco. She applied for a job at my workplace. She didn’t mention having a kid.”
So that’s where my sister is. Who cares, though? It’s not like she cares about us.
“I see she still likes to pretend Nicole doesn’t exist.”
“So, this kid . . . Nicole . . . She . . . How old is she?” From the way she knits her brows, I can tell Sophia hasn’t completely digested this new revelation.
“Seven,” I say gently, knowing she’ll do the math and line up the timeline.
Sophia seems pensive. “So, that time when Angela stopped going to school . . .”
“Yeah. She refused to go to school as soon as her belly started to show. She was too proud to let people know.”
“The kids would’ve been cruel to her.” Sophia nods.
It’s hard to believe that even after everything Angela has done to her, Sophia remains gracious and empathetic.
“What happened after the baby . . . Nicole . . . What happened after she was born?” she asks.
“Angela ran away as soon as she got the chance.”
Sophia’s eyebrows shoot up with shock. “She didn’t . . . Was adoption an option at all?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t all Angela’s fault. My mom refused to even consider adoption. She said she wasn’t letting go of her own flesh and blood, and if Angela didn’t want to take care of the baby, she would.
“Still, I think she was disappointed when Angela disappeared one morning, along with her backpack, her favorite clothes, and some money from our mom’s purse.”
