by S. L. Naeole
I was panting, my thighs sliding against each other as arousal provided that wetness he’d tasted, that…cream he whispered about. “Holy shit,” I breathed.
“Holy shit indeed,” he agreed. With a yawn, he bent down to kiss my nose. “Time to turn out the lights, love. I have a business meeting at nine and then an important lunch date after.”
Poof. Arousal gone.
“Lunch date?” I repeated, trying to sound merely curious and not hurt and failing miserably.
He nodded, his chin tapping lightly on the top of my head. “Yes. Lunch date. That is if my girlfriend wants to.”
Oh. That’s right. I’m the girlfriend.
Smiling broadly, stupidly, lovingly, I nodded. “I’d love to.”
“Good,” he said with another yawn. “Now how do I turn off that lamp so I can fall asleep snuggling you?”
The alarm on my phone pulsed repeatedly, tearing a groan out of me as I reached over to my nightstand to turn it off. A heavy, sinewy arm moved over me to get to it first, stealing my breath and causing my eyes to fly wide open and my head to turn back in fear.
“Morning, love,” Mal said with a smile before connecting his mouth with mine in a quick kiss.
Oh yeah. He slept over.
“Morning,” I repeat to him with a sheepish smile.
He was behind me, his naked chest pressed against my back, one arm beneath my head, his other wrapped around my waist. One of his legs was cradled between mine while the hard length of him was cradled against the softness of my behind. His hair was mussed, his face ironed over with a pillow crease, his eyes partially open as exhaustion weighed his lids down. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in the morning. “Did you sleep well?”
Closing my eyes, I nodded as I sank into him, wiggling closer even as he tugged me further back. “Yes. Best sleep I’ve had in years.”
I heard his soft laugh as he pressed a kiss to my ear. “Me, too. I might have to do this every night from now on.”
“Okay,” I whispered before a shuddering gasp left me. His hand was moving over my belly and up my chest. My very naked chest. I tried to control my breathing but I was unable to slow down the quickening of my heart as that traveling hand gently grazed the underside of one breast. I didn’t think any part of my body could be so aware this early in the morning, but every nerve he stroked sparked with recognition and need. It was as if I could feel every crease and line on his fingers and palm, every arch and whorl that marked his fingertips. With each delicious slide upward, my body twitched, my breaths coming in unsteady puffs.
I tilted my head back just as that glorious hand moved to cover my entire breast, palming it with just the barest pressure and yet it felt like being covered in the grasp of fire. I pushed into it even as I lifted my mouth for Mal’s kiss, one that he gave with immediate understanding and desire that matched mine. At least, I thought it did, but as his fingers began to move over me, gently squeezing, my nipple trapped in the valley of his middle and forefinger, I knew that there was no way, no way in hell he could desire me as much as I did him. Fire licked between my thighs and as I rubbed them together I could feel him rubbing behind me, the pressure of him pulling groan after groan out from my throat.
His tongue danced with mine, his lips sealing us together while my right hand moved to do something, to touch him…touch him where he pressed so deliciously against the cleft of my buttocks.
“Ow,” he laughed as the hard point of my cast hit him in the ribs.
Instantly the desire and fog of need blew away and I remembered where we were. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, mortified.
Chuckling, he kissed me once more and then shifted his body to move away. “Sweetheart, don’t ever apologize. Waking up like this with you, being able to kiss you and touch you before I have to start my day, has made this the best day I’ve ever had, and it hasn’t even started yet.”
My body flushed pink at his words, my breast and mouth still tingling from his touch, his kiss. He groaned at the sight and leaned in, pressing his body against mine, blocking me in. And just like that, panic set in and I started to scramble against him, pushing as the beginnings of a scream crawled up my throat.
Knowing instantly what was wrong, he allowed me to push him away though he did not leave my side. Instead, he took my hand in his and stroked gently over the back of it. Soft, sweeping glides of his palm over the thin skin on the back of my hand allowed his heat to seep in without putting any pressure on me. How he just knew, how he just knew what to do both confused and comforted me, but I couldn’t look at him as I tried to ride through the fit of fear.
“I’m sorry, Victoria,” he said in a low, velvety voice meant to soothe. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”
I shook my head and stabbed at my teary eyes with the fatty heel of my hand. “It’s not your fault. I told you, Mal; I’m damaged goods.”
Quickly, before I could protest, he scooped me up and pulled me into his lap, lifting my arms over his neck. “Listen to me,” he said, lowering his head so that our eyes were on level with each other. “You are not damaged goods, Victoria. You’re not damaged. You’re not broken. You’re not ruined. As far as I’m concerned, you’re perfect. You just need time and a very patient boyfriend to build up your trust. I’m that boyfriend, just in case you weren’t aware, and I’ll give you all the time you need.”
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” I breathed as I took in the sincerity in his eyes, his voice.
“You told me off,” he said with a mischievous grin. “And then hummed a Village People song in my ear.”
My jaw fell almost audibly. “I did what?”
An errant finger stroked my cheek as his breath fanned over my lips. “‘In The Navy’. You hummed it while I carried you to the ambulance. It was the most adorable thing I’ve ever had happen to me.”
Annoyance danced across my face as I folded my arms across my naked breasts. “While I bled all over your navy suit?”
His eyes brightened, his face beaming with a glorious smile at my words. “Is that why that song popped in your head? Because of my suit?”
I shrugged and watched him as his eyes wandered to the crisscross of my arms. “Whenever I get stressed or panicked, I hum. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My mom used to say it was because I never learned the words to songs. I still don’t so I guess she was right.”
“You were humming in the catacombs, too. When you were saying your mantra. You’d hum, then speak. Then hum again. Then speak. I don’t think you realized you were doing it.”
He was right. Most times I never realize it until someone points it out. Del had told me once that when I’d start to feel stressed over a looming deadline, I’d hum the song from Beverly Hills Cop, which made no sense but, then again, most of the songs I chose to hum always seemed out of place in relation to the situation. “In The Navy” after a car accident, for example.
“What was I humming?”
“I think it was Survivor from Destiny’s Child.”
Laughter burst out of me loud and fast, startling him and causing me to cackle even louder. “Really?”
Nodding, he adjusted me in his lap, flinching as my naked rear jerked over the rigid bulge beneath me. “Really.”
“I don’t believe you. How do you even know the name of that song?”
A shadow radiated out from his eyes before it was gone, and then the warm, gentle, passionate man that had spent the night with me was gone, replaced by the cool, wooden businessman. My arms loosened from around his neck and I eased myself from his lap, sliding onto the bed and pulling the sheet up to cover myself.
I watched, silent, as he stood. I could see thoughts moving in his eyes, as if rifling through a catalog of things to do. He was so tall, his presence so commanding that everything in my room just felt smaller around him. And worse, still, even shirtless and in a pair of wrinkled, dirty khakis he still exuded more style and class than I ever could.
“I’m going
to take a quick shower. If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” I said, pulling the sheet up tighter against my body. He said nothing, just moved to the shower and closed the door. A pang of disappointment hit my chest like a knock, my mouth tugged into a frown, and I sniffed. He’d seen me undress. He helped me undress. He’d held me naked in his lap. He’d touched my bare breast. Why couldn’t he let me see his bare ass?
“Get a grip, Ria,” I hissed to myself. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a pair of panties and my usual utilitarian bra. The white underwear stared at me, flags of surrender that I realized I’d waved far too easily in Mal’s face last night. What did that say to him? I’d just spilled my guts to him about what had happened with Franklyn and how that made me fearful of the touch of men, and the minute I got him alone in my room I was suddenly stripping in front of him. Talk about mixed signals!
I slammed the garments back into their drawers and stomped to my closet. Inside was mostly bare, with just a few hangers carrying skirts and a couple of sundresses. I grabbed a pale blue one and slipped it on over my shoulders. It fell down my nude body like a kiss, sending shivers tickling up and down my spine.
Why haven’t I dressed like this before? Because you’ve never willingly been naked in front of a guy before.
Why am I answering my questions?
Because you’re crazy!
Smoothing out the skirt of the dress, I walked to my door and opened it to step out into the hallway. No one was up and the coffee pot hadn’t started brewing, and yet there was a steady knock on the front door. My feet were quiet as I padded over to look into the peephole. Recognizing the face standing outside, I undid the latch and opened the door to see Lyle standing there with a small overnight bag in one hand and a blazer on a hanger dangling from the other.
“Good-morning, Miss Oh,” he said with a soft smile. In the early morning light, I could see the soft brown curl of his hair and the deep blue of his eyes in a face that was storybook handsome, with a square jaw, strong nose, and full lips. He was clean-shaven, the smell of shaving cream and even aftershave wafting past me and stinging my nose with its musk.
“How did you know he’d need all this stuff? Did he call you or do you guys have like some kind of internal cell-brone or something?” I joked as I stepped aside to let him in.
When he didn’t move to come inside, and instead held the items out to me to take, I couldn’t help but frown at him. “He said you’re his man. Does that mean you’re not allowed anywhere he doesn’t give you explicit permission to enter?”
Lyle waited until I’d taken the bag and blazer from him before his smile widened just a fraction, his eyes glittering at me beneath thick brown lashes. “He warned me to keep my distance so that you weren’t dazzled by my masculine beauty and swept away by my dashing charm and elegance.”
“Wow. Does that actually work on women?”
Chuckling, he shook his head and winked at me. At me! “Not that I know of. I tend to only use that line on men.”
Oh. Oh.
“I’m kidding. I’m not gay,” he chuckled.
It was impossible not to roll my eyes at that. “So seriously though, are you not allowed to come inside? I’ll make coffee if that’s your siren call.”
His laugh was lovely, a rich and friendly sound that flowed through the apartment like a late summer breeze, full of sunshine and happiness and things I never noticed about men. Not until now. “I have the car waiting downstairs so I don’t have time to come inside, but thank you for the invitation.”
“Oh. Okay. And you’re welcome. I guess,” I said as he inclined his head slightly.
I watched him turn to head down the stairs, closing the door behind him before I heard his voice slip through the gap that remained. “And my siren call is bacon.”
“I’ll remember that,” I called out before the door latched closed. I turned the lock and then headed into my room with Mal’s things, incapable of comparing the two males. Mal rarely joked, not that I had much time with him to really tell. Mal also fell into steely silence far too easily, while Lyle seemed to smile at the drop of a hat.
Once in my room, I placed the bag on my bed and hung the blazer up in the closet. Noting that the closed door meant he wanted privacy to shower, I knew he’d also want privacy to change. I walked to the bathroom door and knocked. I could hear the shower running, so I knocked louder in case he couldn’t hear me.
“Lyle brought over a bag for you. It’s on my bed when you’re ready,” I said through the wood. I waited for a response but heard nothing. I knew I could have left the bag on the bed and he’d find it on his own. He was a big boy, after all. He didn’t need me to draw him a map or leave him a to-do list.
I knew this.
Damn right I know this.
But I was wearing a dress without underwear and there was a naked man in my bathroom. In my bathroom. And as I imagined him in the shower, imagined his smooth, wide chest, those thick arms slicked down with hot water and soap, licks of desire touched me where I was most sensitive.
He’d called it my pussy. It was a vile word, one that had made me shudder in disgust whenever I’d heard it uttered by others. I couldn’t handle it in movies or music, because it had always taken me back to that basement, back to that sofa bed. But the minute the word left Mal’s lips, need flared up in me, ignited by two syllables that felt so dirty in every way that was right. And that’s what I heard in my head as my body throbbed and my thighs clenched in rhythm to his voice.
Pussy.
Pussy.
Pussy.
My phone’s alarm went off again. It was seven o’clock. He had a meeting at nine. He was in my shower. Naked.
“Fuck it, it’s my bathroom,” I breathed, and then grabbed the knob and turned.
It wouldn’t budge.
He’d locked me out! He’d locked me out of my own bathroom! How dare he! I pulled my foot back to send it sailing into the door, but self-preservation prevented me from adding a cast on my foot to my collection. I thought about slamming my cast against the door instead, then thought better of that, too. How in the hell did the pussy collector actually collect pussies if he was locking bathroom doors and keeping his pants on at night?
I sneered at the door and then turned away, leaving my room and closing the door behind me. The coffee pot switched on as if realizing that my mood would not improve without caffeine. I stormed into the kitchen and began to prowl through the fridge for something to eat, because if I was eating then that meant I wasn’t plotting. Seeing a container of leftover kung pao chicken, I snatched it and popped it into the microwave before sitting down at one of the chairs at the counter, watching the cardboard box spin as I tried to tamp down my irritation.
Mal wasn’t an inexperienced virgin. He wasn’t acting out of uncertainty. Everything that he did was deliberate, even when it didn’t seem so. Last night’s showing up at the AITTIA gala wearing the MOAT uniform? A calculated attempt to set me at ease. He knew when he’d asked me to be his plus one that I wasn’t going to be showing up in a gown. He’d admitted that he’d observed me for years, knew my habits when it came to events at MOAT. Did he expect I’d run? Probably not, but he’d been prepared for it. He prepared for everything, even spending the night with me. Lyle’s appearance at my door as the sun was coming up confirmed that.
So what did hiding in the bathroom and locking me out mean?
This was one of those moments where having experience with men would’ve come in handy. Lara would’ve said he was probably hiding some horrible disfigurement. Kara would’ve made some crack about the size of his package. Vonne would’ve said he was just being shy. Holly…she knew better than anyone else whether any of that was true.
But Mal said that he didn’t sleep with her.
But Holly says they did!
My hand moved to my chest, rubbing at that odd burn that always appeared whenever I thought of Mal with Holly. Despite everything that had happened between Mal an
d me so far, it was still nothing compared to what he might have had with her. They’d done more than just sleep next to each other, according to Holly. He’d done more than just kiss her, more than tuck her away in the shower like a child. And I’m pretty sure that when he’d leaned over her body and pressed himself against her, she didn’t freak out.
A heavy sigh of resignation oozed out as, finally, recognition of the real problem dawned on me.
Everything that had maybe happened with Holly had been about freedom and wildness. Everything with me was always about inhibition and tamping down my fear. They’d had sex. We’d played slumber party. He’d shown her the depths of his desire. He’d shown me absolute restraint. She’d given him permission to use her body. I’d give him permission to use my bathroom.
But she said that he left her after that one night. He’s still here with you!
Yeah, because he’s terrified of unlocking that door and running the fuck out of my house!
Was that it? Did he lock the door because he wanted to bolt? Was this our “night” and now he would move on?
But he’d made plans for us today.
Yeah, after he’s out of the house and you can’t do anything if he just chooses to not call or show up. He’s stood you up before!
My shoulders fell forward as I slumped in my chair. Wasn’t this how it always happened in my romance novels, the guy got what he wanted and then never contacted the woman again, leaving her to find solace and true love in the arms of another? There was hope there, love there. But that wasn’t my life. There was no one else for me to find solace in. And love? Where does love factor here?
This isn’t a romance novel.
I snorted miserably. Of course this wasn’t a romance novel. If it was, I’d be in my room right now kissing Michael and trying to ogle his naked body. Instead, I was in my kitchen ogling a microwave.
But it’s a sexy microwave.
My hand came up to slap my forehead and I winced. It was my right hand.
“Idiot,” I ground out as I rubbed the sting, glaring at my reflection in the microwave’s glass door.
