by C. J. Wells
“I love you, baby,” the sole words I register as I succumb to orgasmic surrender. “I love you so fucking much.”
“DONE!” I TRIUMPH aloud, hitting the send button on my email to Thomas, profoundly proud of myself for my contributions to this particular marketing campaign. Closing my computer, I push up from the deck table, unwinding my sore muscles, atrophy setting in from sitting for so many consecutive hours. I stretch my raised arms to the sky, smiling as I close my eyes in delight, the bright afternoon rays licking across my heated skin.
Feeling invigorated, I snatch up my laptop and notes, making my way inside, machinations of preparing a luscious home-cooked meal for Alex lighting my steps. I love nothing more than pampering him when he gets home from a long day filming. When I can, that is. Sometimes he’s gone for hours and hours on end, oftentimes slipping in bed beside me well into the evening.
Walking through the open glass doors leading to the kitchen, I discard my work on the table as I pass, heading towards the oversized gourmet island, thoughts of a romantic dinner-for-two floating through my mind. Pulling out my trusty recipe book, I begin flipping through the pages, aimlessly searching for a meal Alex will absolutely love. My thoughts mingle enticingly with the many delicious dessert options we can play with - either before or after we eat.
The interruption of my perusing by the door chime doesn’t shake my heated reverie. As a matter of fact, the idea that it could be Alex home earlier than expected is as inviting as my thoughts of having him for an appetizer.
A surprise strip tease at the front door? - my inner dreamer elicits suggestively in delight as I make my way to answer it.
“Oh,” I stagger in surprise against my swift opening of the door. “Liam? Oh my God! What a surprise!” I’m shocked, yet slight enthusiasm seeps through at seeing him so unexpectedly. He looks really good, his skin slightly tan, emphasizing his striking blue eyes beneath his almost buzzed-cut hair - his former pretty-boy, perfectly coifed mane gone. I note the biker helmet in his hand, realizing why. His plain white t-shirt, untucked over baggy jeans, adds an attractive rebellion to his new carefree, relaxed style.
“Hey, Abs! A good surprise?” he questions, a slight twinkle in his eyes.
He looks happy, and it’s infectious. “Of course a good surprise. Come in, please,” I stand back to allow him entry. Closing the door behind him, I smile warmly at his familiar face, watching as he takes in his surroundings. It’s amazing what you get used to, I realize, taking in my lavish abode through Liam’s eyes, the luxurious furnishings and artwork displayed to perfection. Truly magazine worthy.
We sink into silence, and I feel an odd pang at having him here - a piece of my past amongst the sometimes unbelievable reality of my present, my new world foreign to him. Yet he’s a welcome sight to my slight homesickness, and I shake off the alien vibe with a heartfelt smile. “Would you like some coffee?” I offer, pulling his gaze back to mine.
“Absolutely,” he follows me into the kitchen. “Nice place.” He takes a seat at the island, absentmindedly fingering through my discarded recipe book, “Cooking plans?”
I note the slight smirk on his face, his passive-aggressive insulting of my culinary skills light-heartedly obvious. “Ha, ha. I’ve improved in the cooking department, I’ll have you know,” I retort, preparing the coffee. I can’t help but chuckle at his easy laughter that follows. He always was good at making me laugh. “I honestly can’t believe you’re here. I admit it slipped my mind that you were making your way to L.A..”
“Jeez, Aby. I’m wounded that I’m so easily forgettable. Break my heart, why don’t ’ya.”
My breath catches at his choice of words, and my movements still. He was joking, let go of the guilt, dumb ass - my inner actress pops into my psyche as though rubbed from her genie bottle.
Liam’s chuckle interrupts my internal tirade, “Abs, I was kidding. And, stop. You’ve beaten yourself up enough when it comes to me. Clearly, I’m doing fine. All wounds healed,” he gestures, arms outstretched, charmingly showcasing his lean body.
His playful pose elicits my laughter; my ever-present guilt over the hurt I’ve caused him effectively evaporated at his good-natured humor. “Yes, you do look good. Happy even.”
“I am. This trip has been unbelievable, baby. I’m…” he freezes.
I freeze.
The moment washes over with Liam’s quick shake of his head, as though he snapped his fingers and erased the blip. I’m fairly certain my eyes are still bulging slightly at his slip of the tongue, yet he continues on through his surprisingly unfaltering smile of excitement, “I’m staying at a small cottage up the coast for the next few weeks before I head out again. Riding is addictive. I’m finding it hard to stay in one place for too long before the itch to take off hits.”
He’s like a kid returning from the state fair, high on his cotton candy, tilt-a-world-riding buzz. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” And I mean it. I feel a sense of utter peace at having Liam here, regaling me with his journey.
“And speaking of happy, you look pretty happy yourself. You always did look amazing with a tan,” he flashes his winning smile.
Laughing, I pour our coffees, adding his preferred additives from memory before passing him the cup. “Thanks, it’s hard to avoid a tan when the deck constitutes as my office. Freelance work has its perks,” I shrug.
“What a change, eh? Both of us. Who knew that this is where we’d wind up? It blows my mind,” he stares contemplatively down at his coffee, a wistful expression donning his stubble-covered face.
The shift in the air is swift, though it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. We have a long history, and it’s been only weeks since we signed the finality of it - literally. It’s understandable that we’re going to have awkward moments.
“I know what you mean,” I smile, his eyes returning to mine. There’s an unspoken understanding between us - a mutual respect, a friendship evolved from our many years together. No more anger. No more resentment.
“So, where is Mr. Hot Shot?” Liam asks, taking a sip of his coffee, my quirked brow at his reference to Alex making him laugh. “I mean, Alexander,” he corrects himself, pronouncing Alex’s name with a lazy drawl.
“Alex,” I state, albeit dramatically, “…is at work.”
“What, he got a real job?” he’s purposely trying to egg me on.
I ignore his attempts to rile me. “Very funny. This from the man on an extended vacation?” I tease in return.
“Hey, don’t shit on the temporary leave,” he smiles knowingly. “But, seriously, where is he?”
“He’s filming. We’re only in L.A. for the duration of the shoot.”
“Ahhh, yes. Well your digs certainly scream temporary,” he sarcastically spans the gourmet kitchen with a head gesture, and I roll my eyes. The humor in his gaze glazes over with sincerity, “He’s treating you well, Abs?” His tone reflects the slight shift from playful to serious.
“Yes, he is. I’m very happy,” I smile. It’s impossible to keep the overwhelming love from emanating in my voice, and despite our easy camaraderie, I note him flinch slightly at my admission.
The air around us stills in silence before he adjusts his position on the stool, as though mentally shaking off the momentary sentiment. “I have to say, it’s weird seeing your picture in newspapers and magazines.”
Not exactly the best change in topic. The painfully swift transition from my overwhelming love for Alex, to guilt at Liam’s expense, then on to disgust of the media, makes for an interesting test of composure. I’m not sure my grimace goes unnoticed. “Tell me about it. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it myself. Most of the time, it’s avoidable, but not always. It comes with the territory, I guess. Alex is really understanding about it, though. He tries hard to keep it to a minimum where I’m concerned.”
Yet another moment of silence, laced with slight awkwardness this time.
“Will he be upset that I’m here?”
“Ummm…he’ll be fine,” I reply with forced pep. “There’s nothing for him to feel jealous about. We’re friends,” I mumble, trying hard to disguise my unease with an act of defensive bravado - though I’m a little irked by my use of the jealously thought aloud.
“Suuure,” he drawls, taking a large gulp of his coffee, resting the empty cup on the counter. “I should go,” he pushes up from the island to stand.
“No, don’t. You just got here…” I stop short, my internal tantrum that I’m allowed to have a visitor for Christ’s sake suddenly replaced with question, “How did you know where to find me?”
He hesitates, just for a second, but long enough for me to feel an uneasy chill as he sits back down. My eyes, however, signal he should just spit it out. “Your Mom,” he purses his lips, clearly anticipating my reaction. He won’t get one though - at least not verbally, since I’m speechless. “Abs, I didn’t call her for it. She…”
My eyes bulge sarcastically with my head gesture for him to please go on.
“Well, she’s called me a couple of times…to see how I am,” he adds as though explaining for her.
“Oh,” I nod, my lips sucked into a straight line, before taking a quick breath that in no way disguises my snarky contempt towards my mother at this moment. “Right, cause that’s not weird…or inappropriate,” I grab the recipe book, pretending to continue a perusal, flipping the pages too quickly to be focusing at all.
“Aby,” he waits for me to look towards him, and I do with a sigh. “She’s just being nice. There’s nothing else behind it. No ulterior motives,” he quotes the air, attempting to quell my familiar defensive reaction to my mother’s actions.
Stop, drop and roll - my inner actress takes center stage, reminding me to hide what I know is damn well true. My mother may be smitten with Alex - his god-like looks, fame and wealth - but her keeping in touch with Liam tells me she thinks it won’t last. My translation: I’m not worthy and Liam should be kept close for the eventual fall back. Damn her. No, damn me, for still tainting her actions with a lifetime of insecurity.
“Anyway,” Liam interrupts my continued silence, “…on that double negative note, I should hit the road.” I must look confused by his statement, though I’m not - I know he’s referring back to what Alex will think about this visit - but he continues in explanation anyway, “If it were me, I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone either - least especially another man that knows what it means to love you.”
I’m frozen in place, though contrastingly burning from the sudden flush of embarrassed heat in my cheeks. I wouldn’t know what to say to that even if I could find the courage to open my mouth. It both breaks my heart and fills me with dread…yes, this visit was too soon and Alex will not be happy about it.
Liam, however, shows no signs of verbal remorse. He simply offers a warm smile before pushing himself up from the island once more, turning in the direction of the front door.
I follow him, slightly annoyed that a pleasant visit that filled a homesick void turned so suddenly into the reality that it is - a visit from my very recent ex-husband in my boyfriend’s home.
Turning back to me, Liam pulls me into his arms for a swift hug, placing a chaste kiss to my head. “Thanks for the coffee, Abs. It was good to see you,” he finishes, opening the door.
I summon the strength to just enjoy our cordial farewell. I don’t want this to be another goodbye with an awkward end. “You too. Take care, Liam. I really am glad you stopped by,” I smile warmly, sincerity in my statement despite the potential disaster that will ensue once I fess up to Alex later.
Leaning on the frame, I watch Liam make his way across the walk before stopping to look back. “Oh, and Abs…Go easy on him. Take it from me, the fear of losing you inspires many different emotions,” he finishes, waving goodbye one last time.
MUSIC...? CHECK. RECIPE and ingredients...? Check. Shield of ignorant bliss…? Check. Yup, my composure is well in place in the hour since Liam departed, the loud thundering of his Harley long evaporated from my sound memory bank. As a matter of fact, I feel great. Peppy even. Suffice it to say, Pharrell Williams’ Happy blasting through the sound system is undoubtedly contributing to my chirpy demeanor - well, that and my refilled glass of wine. I can’t resist bopping around the island to the happy-go-lucky beat, clad in my, now dry, bikini after an emotionally cleansing dip in the pool.
More than just its catchy uplifting tempo, the lyrics themselves ring true in my ears - I am happy. So very, very happy. I smile to myself, shimmying and swaying around my culinary efforts, turning and shaking my butt in absolute glee.
“Now that’s a show I would pay to see at the end of every work day.”
Jumping in surprise, I startle to find Alex leaning casually against the entryway to the kitchen, his eyes filled with both humor and equal parts desire.
I fumble a little, shyly embarrassed, before pulling down my mask of confidence. “How long have you been standing there, mister?” I ask with a playful smile.
“Long enough to absorb the sexy and incredibly adorable essence that is you, Miss Ryan. Well-captured for future reference,” he taps his temple to signify the memory capsule.
The man is like a dip in a too hot bath - scorching the skin as your body gives way to the delicious heat enveloping it. He’s simply a spectacular specimen. A shiver of delight runs through me as I take in the sheer masculinity he exudes. Add to that, the sudden erotic beat of the switched track and my recently donned mask seems to change to one of seductive bravery.
My skin prickles with desire as Beyonce’s Drunk in Love blares through the speakers; the sensual beat, combined with Alex’s sexy-as-shit stance, overtaking me. How very fitting, I note. I most certainly am drunk in love. So very drunk in love with this man. The lyrics, the wine, the unbound sexuality he’s emanating, are all fuelling my building desire. A suddenly bold and naughty desire.
Slowing taking a sip of wine, I lay the glass down before flashing him a mischievous smile, my eyes burning with the sheer magnitude of my lust. Making my way around the island, I sway to the sensual beat, lip-syncing the words that so effectively encompass my actions, ‘I get filthy when that liquor get into me’. Sashaying my hips erotically from side to side, I move towards him in a sensual dance, ‘Why can’t I keep my fingers off it, baby? I want you…” I finish, reaching him, sliding my fingers fleetingly along his hardening erection.
Watching his amused gaze metamorphose into a glaze of lust is intoxicating. Empowering. With a final teasing touch, I pull my hand away from his manhood, flashing him a tantalizing come-hither gesture as I back up towards the open French doors to the deck - my alluring beckoning enticed with a teasing lick of my lip before nipping it between my teeth.
With a sinful crooked pull of his lips, he follows without a word, igniting my passionate lure all the more. I’m on fire for him, wanting to simply rip his clothes off, yet my emboldened need for seduction overrules. Turning around, I continue my seductive swaying, sliding my hands along my body to the rhythm of the sexy song blaring from the deck speakers as I walk towards the pool. Its inviting misty fog of steam acts as my playful backdrop as I face him once more to tease with the lyrics, ‘Baby, I want you, na na’.
I caress my neck and chest, gliding my hands down to my ass, tempting him as I imagine his own touch. I’m enraptured by the sensual beat, my daring seductress stimulated by my consumed glass of wine, heightened even further by his evident building desire. It�
�s a thrilling feeling to be incited by his wanting gaze.
Making my way towards him, I grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off him, his arms raised in assistance. Tossing it behind him, I trail my fingertips down his deliciously sculpted chest, feeling the power from his husky intake of breath as my hips goad him in the rhythmic dance, ‘Drunk in love’.
Releasing a growl, he bends to capture my lips amid my persuading lyrical mimicking and I swiftly pull away, shaking my head ‘no’.
I slowly tread the stairs into the pool, a teasing smile on my lips. The warmth of the water against the cool late afternoon chill is exhilarating. It burns through my electrified flesh as I remove my bikini top, giggling with the music, flinging it towards him.
His eyes are a pool of latent hunger, taking in my strip tease, his gaze tracing my bikini top’s landing on the stone floor at his feet. At the wet drop of my bikini bottoms alongside my discarded top, his gaze darts back towards me, his lips parted beneath his burning sapphire-blue eyes. He looks ready to pounce.
I’m enraptured, spellbound by my affect on him, relishing in the warmth of the water cascading around my naked body as I continue swaying sensually to the music. I close my eyes, delighting in my body’s movements, like a snake charmer hypnotizing her cobra. I’m lost in my soliciting euphoria, inspired solely by him. For him.
The feel of his naked body suddenly behind me is electrifying and I shudder against his muscular form. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me tight against him. I moan, torn between wanting to turn to face him and the sensation of his hardened erection tantalizing my behind. The pulsing in my core wins the struggle and I succumb, gyrating against him with the rhythm as his greedy hands explore my flesh.
The slosh of the water around us adds a cold-heat cocktail to my perked nipples, and I quiver as he slides his palms erotically across the pebbled peaks. I love that signature touch of his. The way he tantalizes my nipples with a circular tease of his palm. I’m on fire for him. Desperate for him.
