Playing House

by Willsin Rowe

  One thing was certain, though. When he did tell me, I planned to hit him with much more than just a rolled up newspaper.

  Still, when the moment for confrontation arrived, I couldn’t face it. He knocked lightly on my door but I feigned sleep, and he went gliding about the house with his silent feet, and swatting everything that was swattable with his noisy hands. Every clunk and twang, every click and swoosh, cut through my already ragged determination to sleep my way out of this funk.

  Yet I knew the solution. Just walk out there and press him for an answer. Ask him where he’d been, and would he mind moving his bitable ass the hell out of my house. But I couldn’t do that. Not only because he rescued me from Patrick, but also because he’d become one of my best friends. Like, ever. And if I didn’t go out there, didn’t speak to him, then at least for tonight he could still exist in my head as that amazing guy who’d been there when I needed him, and who’d taken me to heights of ecstasy I hadn’t imagined.

  For more than half an hour he clattered around the house. I swore he was making sure to clobber at least one thing in every corner of every room before making his way to bed.

  But for all the time and effort I’d invested in being angry at him, the truth was I felt whole again. The pain I’d been inflicting on myself dulled, and the worries I’d been filling my skull with simply seeped away. The puzzle pieces all fit together properly now he was home, safe in bed.

  The fact he seemed to drift straight off to sleep was a tad unacceptable, though. The weight of guilt he must be dragging around should have had him balled up in agony. And there was no doubt he should have at least popped his head into my room to see if I was awake, or having sex with the closest available man. Right?

  In frustration at my own mind, I squeezed my fists and released them, repeating the action several times to try and ease the tension. A long, deep breath helped, and allowed me to clear my head a little. Enough to remind myself I had no idea where he’d been, nor who he’d been with. Perhaps he’d been helping his dear old mother move a piano.

  Though the anxiety within me eased a little, I still couldn’t switch off my brain. Especially because I could hear Mark in his bed, as clearly as if I was hiding beneath it. Damn these thin walls.

  It wasn’t as if he was up to anything odd. He was only moaning in his sleep. Why it affected me so badly was that it took me straight back to the way he’d sounded as he’d driven his body against mine. Those sounds had filled my senses even more than the sight of him had. He was beautiful and powerful, with his sleekly muscled arms and his corded neck, as he’d glided into me. When the sensations had overpowered me, though, I had closed my eyes and let the world shrink to just the heat of his cock, and the frenzy of his voice.

  Hearing him now was a sweet torture. The sibilance of limbs through sheets, the deep vibration of his voice moaning or grunting. I wasn’t done hating his cheating ass, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to go sink my teeth into it, and that as much as anything made me question my own sanity. Even when we had sex, it had been perfection and then a complete mess.

  But even unconscious, the man was taunting me. Running around on me while I was in my post-coital coma, and now practically daring me to slide into his bed and touch him all over with my vagina. Didn’t he know I’d vowed never to have sex with him again? Even with the massive temptation, so far I’d succeeded. Uh-huh. In all those hours I’d be here all alone, I hadn’t slept with him once. Yay me.

  Almost without conscious thought, I sent my hand wandering south and found the heat between my legs. When I made contact it sent a light pulse through me, but it somehow felt as if I was trying to settle an argument. Pitting my head against my heart. And by heart, I of course meant pussy.

  Yet as well as I knew my own body, my fingers had next to no power anymore. Not when I compared them to the ridiculous standard Mark had set. It had felt so astonishingly wonderful when his hardness ground against me, outside and in. With only half my heart truly in it, I ran a few small circles around my clit and it was nice. But damn that man, now I knew it was never going to be anywhere near enough. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, hoping to quell my desire, yielded nothing. My fingers came away wet, but I knew it had nothing to do with my touch and everything to do with the memory of Mark.

  If he’d been awake at that moment, I’d have squealed my frustration out. Instead, knowing my own sleep was never going to come, I rolled out of bed, intent on simply getting myself a glass of water. Only to calm me down, and nothing at all to do with the fact I’d have to walk past Mark’s bedroom.

  I didn’t possess feet made of cloud, so I stepped as carefully as I could down the hallway. Drawing closer to Mark’s door, I could see he’d left it unlatched and slightly ajar. And his reading light was still on. God, it was like living with a jungle creature. They never switched off their lamps either. But somehow, all of that just made him more natural and delicious than ever.

  As determined as I’d been to blank him, and keep myself to myself, the temptation was too strong. As I reached the gap in his door, I couldn’t resist looking through. It was subtle, and of course purely incidental. I was simply… making sure he wasn’t drowning. Yeah, that was it.

  He didn’t look to be in need of a life jacket, however he was lying face down on his bed. Perhaps I should roll him over and give him a long session of mouth-to-mouth, just to be sure. Blinking away that absurd idea, I scanned the rest of him, his broad shoulders bare and the sheet only just covering his magnificent ass.

  Without any effort on my part, a tiny whimpering moan seeped from my throat. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried. Though it had been quiet, it still seemed to reach Mark in his sleep, and he grunted and stirred.

  Panicked that he’d wake up and see me ogling him, I scurried away to the kitchen, once again wishing I could walk like mist the way Mark did. Instead, my hippo feet thudded all the way down the hall and I cringed at my own stupidity.

  I flicked on the light above the stovetop. It was the one part I could operate with confidence. I just needed enough light to see what I was doing, but didn’t want to wake Mark. If I hadn’t already, at least. Taking the carafe of filtered water from the fridge, I went to the sink and took down my favorite glass. If a glass of water was what I’d pretended had called me out of bed, then I would pour myself a goddamn glass of water.

  My imaginary thirst was quickly slaked, and I could only swallow half of it. Although that might simply have been the lump of tension in my throat causing a blockage. After pouring the rest of the water down the sink I washed out the glass with a few drops of detergent. Satisfied I’d cleaned every inch inside and out, I dried it, making sure to eliminate all streaks. Then, and only then, I put it back into its designated space in the correct cupboard.

  “You have a problem, Luce.”

  I squealed like a girl. Thankfully, he’d waited until I’d put the glass away before speaking, otherwise there’s no doubt I’d either have dropped it in fright or turned and lobbed it at him. Knowing my own aim, and the fact I threw like a girl, I probably would have hit myself with it. But either way, it would have eventually shattered on the floor.

  Spinning like a struck piñata, my vision was filled with Mark, his lithe body resting with annoyingly languid ease against the doorframe. As usual, he was wearing only a pair of boxers and a pussy-wetting smile.

  “Wh-what do you mean, I have a problem?” Oh, no. He’d caught me spying, I just knew it. But so what? It had only been for a second or two. No more than thirty. Guys were such show-ponies anyway, weren’t they? There’s nothing they love more than being the focus of a girl’s attention, right?

  Oh, god. I’d have to move out of my own house forever, and burn it down and leave the country. My cheeks were so inflamed I could probably turn off the light and still see clearly.

  He nodded at the cupboard. “You couldn’t just leave that glass unt
il morning? There’ll be other dishes then. It’s more efficient.”

  “Don’t go confusing efficiency with order, Mark. I like things a certain way.”

  He prowled over to me, the roll and sway of his broad, buff shoulders sending shivers of delight down my spine. “Oh, I know you do.”

  It didn’t seem to matter anymore what he said. Every sound that came out of the man’s mouth, whether it was an articulated word or a beastly noise, impacted on me in the same way. They all glided deep inside me and squeezed me like an orange. Perhaps that would explain why the juice kept running down between my legs.

  When he came right up beside me at the sink, his rich man-smell, mixed with the light funk of sleep, seemed to wash straight into my belly.

  Knowing my own nature, and how contrary it could be, it was almost certain I was making this whole situation harder than it needed to be. For both of us, but especially for myself. Because, now I’d tasted the forbidden fruit and told myself never again, it was as if my body was doing everything in her power to convince my brain how wrong it was. Trying to convince me that sex with Mark should be right back on the table. Glancing down to my side, I realized that could even be taken literally.

  The yellow tint of the low light gave his already tan skin extra warmth, and his brown eyes held mine like a tractor beam. They didn’t waver as he pulled out a glass and filled it with water straight from the faucet.

  “We have filtered.” I glided my fingers over the open mouth of the carafe, and for the first time in what felt like a hundred years, he turned his attention away from my face. Once I realized exactly what I was doing, a fresh flush ran through my cheeks and I pulled my hand away as if the vessel had bitten me.

  “I know, Luce. Me man. No fuss.” He gulped his chlorinated and fluoridated concoction down in two seconds flat. At that moment, he was more animal to me than ever, slaking his thirst so effortlessly, and it was all I could do to hold myself back. To stop myself shedding my clothes, baring my claws and biting into his skin to suck the salt from it.

  Mark rinsed out the glass and turned it upside down on the rack. Before I could say a word, he picked it back up and dried it, returning it to the cupboard. As he closed the door, he turned to me and gave me that panty-melting smile again. “Is this a show or something, Luce?”

  This time, I had no urge to turn away, to pretend I hadn’t been watching his every move. I couldn’t stop myself staring, and carving his body into my memory. He was so close, within easy touching distance, and I just didn’t know what to do. It’s not my way to make any move, especially the first. Though a lawyer could probably make a case that I did exactly that this morning when I kissed him. And that move was what led to such wonderful sex.

  Besides, I started this night being angry with him. That had to take precedence.

  “Where were you all night?”

  “It’s night time now. And I’m here.”

  “Mark.”

  “Seriously? You checking up on me again?”

  “Well, I think I have a bit more of a right to now, after… you know. Don’t I?”

  He leaned back, resting his ass against the bench top and crossing his arms. “I don’t know. Do you? I mean, you basically cast me aside. I thought you were done with me.”

  “Don’t play the victim, Mark.” I put my hands on my hips, just in case he hadn’t already worked out I was pissed. “Were you with her?”

  He sighed. “I assume you mean Gabs?” He shook his head, but it was clear he wasn’t actually saying no. “Are you a bruise-poker too, Luce? I mean, honestly, why do you girls do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “The only time you ask a question that has a short answer is when you already know you won’t like the short version of the answer.”

  Of course he’d been too good to be true. The buzz of arousal in my belly climbed, and turned into a shock of anger in my chest. I lunged forward and slammed his shoulders with my open palms. “You bastard! You were!”

  He secured my wrists and held my arms still, apparently without a whole lot of effort. “Luce! Stop that. Yes, I went to see Gabs, but listen to me. It was not for sex, as you so clearly assumed.”

  “Then why? And how can you keep calling her that nickname?”

  “I call her that now, because I called her that before. She means so little to me, it’s not worth the effort to change my thinking. As to why? For the simplest of reasons. Closure. A clean break. I still had some of her stuff, and I was returning it.”

  “Oh, yeah. I bet. Was it the same stuff you gave me this morning?”

  His grip on my wrists became tighter and the threat of pain stole my breath. It freaked me out a little to realize how much strength he had at his disposal, though having seen the way he upended Patrick so easily, I shouldn’t have been surprised. “Luce, I get that you’ve been done wrong. By probably the stupidest man on planet Earth. Now, I’m crazy about you, but if there’s one thing that turns me off, it’s distrust.” He relaxed his grip again before he continued. “You even saw what I had. The clothes and accessories in my car, remember?”

  “Oh.” I’d forgotten about those in the ebb and flow of stress and sex.

  “You wanna know the whole truth? Do you?” He didn’t wait for me to reply. “She tried. Pulled out every trick that ever worked and even a few new ones. It had no effect on me, other than making me wonder how I’d ever fallen for her.”

  If he was lying, then he could be world champion at it. I wanted to believe him, I truly did. But I was still a mess of emotional scars. “That’s all easy to say, Mark. Words can do amazing things in the right mouth. But how can I believe it?”

  He stood upright, seeming to swell before me as his expression turned hard. “You can believe it because I said it.”

  “It’s just, in my experience—”

  “You know, the easiest way to get a woman pissed is to start a sentence with all women are. After that it doesn’t matter what you say.” He poked the end of my nose gently. “You shouldn’t go thinking it’s different with men. We’re not all liars, you know.”

  “I, uh…”

  He turned and headed back toward his room. “If you come up with something, write it on the white board. I’ll read it in the morning.” There was a sing-song, almost-laughing quality to his voice that made me want to hate him. At that moment, though, there was no chance. Because his hard ass was calling to me like chocolate. Follow me. Touch me. Bite me. You know you want to.

  It was apparently also a very smart ass, because I did want to. More than life itself.

  Letting that gorgeous ass make decisions for me might not end up being the best move I could make, but nothing else I’d done lately seemed particularly clever, either. So I tip-toed up the hallway, trying for stealth but magically finding every single squeaky floorboard along the way. At Mark’s doorway there was yet another decision to make. Should I keep going back to my room and try to force myself to sleep? Or barge in and finish what Mark just started out there in the kitchen?

  At least, I think it was him who started it.

  Why was life so full of decisions, and why did I have to make all of them? Being a grown-up was supposed to make everything fun, not hard. Although with the grown-up who was in that room beside me, hard and fun were almost synonymous. Without being completely decided, I slowly turned, looking through the narrow gap of his still-open door to see him sitting up and reading, his square glasses adding a studious cuteness to his already amazingly good looks.

  “I know you’re there, Luce. Did you have something more to say?”

  Having him break the spell like that, simply through speaking to me, made the decision easier somehow. I pushed the door open but remained still in the hallway for a moment longer. “I don’t know.” It was as if my words hooked me and dragged me forward, and I stumbled into his room. After a moment’s hesitatio
n, I sat on the side of his bed with my back to him. What I was about to say could get my woman card revoked, so it was much easier to say it to the floor than to his face. “Actually, yes, I do. I’m sorry. You were right about nearly all that you said. I did push you away, and it’s for reasons that aren’t yours. I know it’s not fair, and you haven’t done anything wrong. And I might be the boring, organized one, but that doesn’t mean I’m logical.”

  “Shh. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. Because even right now, I’m still scared. Terrified.”

  “Am I that much of a beast?” He clearly said it as a joke, but he sounded more than a little worried.

  “No, of course not, Mark. I’m scared of how I feel about you, but what’s truly terrifying is how damn suddenly it’s happened. I don’t fall quickly, and I certainly don’t fall easily. And until now, I’ve never fallen hard. But the thought of you in bed with someone else tonight hurt like hell.”

  “But I wasn’t—”

  “I know. I believe you, Mark. But for a time there I was convinced it was true and that cold pain won’t leave me. Not yet, at least.” Feeling the tears welling, I swallowed to try and hold them down. “I can’t give you anything more rational than that right now.”

  “Look at me, please?”

  I turned only my head. If I followed with my body I’d probably melt.

  “Luce, what is it you want?”

  “From you?”

  “From life.” He put his book face down on his lap. “And from me.”

  “I really don’t know. Or really, I think I do… but there’s a big part of me saying I shouldn’t want it.”

  He removed his glasses and put them on his bedside table. “Is it the same thing I want?”

  “How do I know that, Mark? If the last month has told you anything, it should be that I clearly have no idea how to read men.”