by Tia Louise
She blinks it away just as fast. “Thanks again.”
And with that, she pushes through the glass doors and is gone. I can’t help feeling empty, like it happened too fast. The gusts off the lake push my blazer open and mess with my tie. If you listen closely, you can probably hear them howling through the vacant spot in my chest where she belongs.
My agitation grows. Tracing the lines up the beige stone exterior of her building, I imagine her riding the elevator higher and higher, also alone. She gets off at their floor, goes into their condo, and what? Falls asleep? Why shouldn’t she? She had a hell of a day.
A rub to my hollow torso, and I turn to walk the blocks to my own place. Another sweep of wind through the skyscrapers, and it’s shaping up to be a nice spring evening. It’s the thought I had this morning when I decided to walk to work. I took a cab to the hospital, but now I want my goddamn car.
My insides ache, and I want a fucking drink. What the hell is this, post-traumatic stress? I didn’t deal with EMS trying to resuscitate my mother in front of my eyes today. I only had to see my love struggling through the after-effects of the trauma.
Two more blocks.
Mentally, I’m encouraging myself. It’s going to be a long night, but I have a bottle of whiskey, and I’m sure there’s a game on some channel. I’ve got five thousand channels and a fucking seventy-eight inch curved flatscreen television. If I can’t find anything worth watching, I’m going to throw it out the window.
I’m just at my building, pushing my way through the door when my phone lights up. When I see the name, I cough a laugh and lean against the wall for support. The words I’ve needed for so long glow up at me.
Please come back. I need you.
Amy.
* * *
Amy
Standing in Sylvia’s empty condo, I don’t expect what happens to me. I said goodbye to Marcus on the street and pretty much ran away. After watching my two older brothers tamed by beautiful, amazing women, everything Marcus wants slammed down on me with unexpected force.
I used to have solidarity with my oldest brother. Patrick was born to be a daddy, have a family, and he’ll be good at it. But Stuart and I always shared the same opinion on the matter. Now he’s so damn different. What the hell is happening to everyone all at once?
So yeah, I’d run away again. So fucking sue me. It’s what I do. I’m not ready to drink the Kool-Aid and believe the lie. I’m still living in the Land of Reality, where bastards still exist and people you think you can trust still shit on you and walk away without looking back.
Then I unlocked the door to Sylvia’s condo.
Then I stepped into the kitchen.
Her mug was on the floor broken. My mug was on the counter half-empty and cold. Her voice still echoes in the air like nothing was creeping up behind her, hoping to steal her life.
She’d asked me about the gala. I asked her about her lunch date. Her breath became labored, and she turned her back to me. Then she fell.
Now I’m falling. I’ve crumbled to the floor, unable to catch my breath. I’m crouched against the wall holding my throat, eyes squeezed shut.
“Sylvia.” It’s a broken plea. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. Thank God I had my phone.
My phone is in my hand, and I’m texting. I don’t even know what I say. I only know I need him. I need help. I can’t stay here alone tonight.
* * *
Marcus
Amy sits on my brown leather sofa. She’s unusually quiet, her knees bent to her chest, still in the soft grey pants and dark tee. Her eyes fix on the black face of my giant television. I’d expected to be watching it all evening while I slowly got drunk. I haven’t even turned it on. Her hair is still in a messy bun with small bits loose around her face. She’s tired and vulnerable, and she looks like the best thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m working on getting some food in her. Mariska and I went to Snarf’s while they were at the hospital—Italian subs for the guys, a turkey and Swiss with avocado for Amy. Now I stand in my kitchen cutting the thick, seven-inch sandwich into four equal pieces, glancing at her occasionally.
Eschewing the whiskey (no need to go classic country anymore), I open a decent bottle of Chardonnay and pour two glasses. I’m a dick for being so happy she’s here after the shit morning she had, but fuck it. I’ve wanted her to spend the night with me since the day we met.
A scoop of chicken salad for each of us, and I take the two plates to the living room and set them on the dark mahogany coffee table. I’m headed back to the kitchen for our wine when she finally speaks.
“Your apartment is so cozy.” I love the sound of her voice, even now when it’s soft and a little fragile.
Turning back from the kitchen, I quickly inspect the large area. It’s predominantly hardwoods and overstuffed leather furniture. Books are everywhere, from fiction to leather-bound law books. “I pick up things that feel homey to me.”
“It reminds me of your office.”
That makes me laugh. We’re back to that old complaint. “I’ve already explained why.”
Her beautiful eyes blink up to me, and they’re a bit more relaxed. “Your office is an extension of your home because you’re a workaholic.”
“I don’t consider my job work.” I sit beside her on the soft leather sofa. “I like what I do.”
The smallest smile crosses her lips. “I know. I wrote your profile.”
Dammit. I want to kiss her and pull her onto my lap and spend the night making love to her. I can’t help feeling like we’re right on the edge of something big, and I’ll be damned if I let her slip away again. She looks down, that fragility returns, and I ease off the accelerator.
“See what you think of this.” I hand her a glass of wine.
She takes the delicate crystal and sips. “Mmm,” she nods. “Oak and concrete.”
“Conner Lee.” I lean forward to put my glass on the table.
“Washington State. No butter bombs there.”
Straightening, my eyes travel down the soft tendrils of hair framing her heart-shaped face. When her brothers arrived at the hospital, I braced myself for the fantasy to burst. I expected seeing her with them would jar me back to the reality of who she is and our position within our joined family.
It didn’t.
Seeing her interact with them, seeing her and Elaine together, all of it only cemented her deeper in my chest. We belong together. I’m only waiting for her to see it.
“You need to eat.” I hand her a plate.
The sandwich is now in inch-thick slices, and she takes a careful bite of one. I sample the chicken salad. A mix of sharp celery and sweet grapes cut by the smoky chicken and bitter walnuts fills my mouth.
“Mm, try this.” I stab another mouthful and hold it out to her. She only watches me a moment before taking it off the fork. The last time we shared chicken salad was on the boat.
“Good.” She nods and takes another sip of wine, and a faint line pierces her forehead. “Thank you. For today.”
“No need to thank me. I want you to call me when you’re in trouble or when you need me.”
Her lips tighten, and the fight is evident in all her body language. Mentally I remind myself, she called me twice today. I’m determined that means I’m winning.
“Good?” I don’t want to give her time to mount her defenses. I’ve got to keep her off her feet. “Snarf’s was one of my first favorite sub shops in the city.”
“You like subs?”
“Almost as much as pizza.” Giving her a wink I take another sip of wine.
Defenses relax a bit. A little smile appears. “Watch out for the deep dish. I gained ten pounds one summer because I couldn’t resist it.”
“You were probably adorable.”
She laughs. “I was fat.”
Allowing my eyes to travel over her slim frame, her small breasts, I shake my head. “It would take more than ten pounds for you to be fat.”
Her
cheeks are flushed. I love the way she changes when I look at her. Even now, she opens to me. It’s because you’re mine, I want to say, but again. Patience.
We each take another bite of sub, another sip of wine, and I notice her eyes blink slower. “You’re tired,” I say. “Come on.”
Standing, I take the plate from her and put it on the table. Then I reach for her hands. She only hesitates a moment before putting both in mine.
“I need to shower. Brush my teeth.”
“I’ve got extra toothbrushes, and you can wear one of my shirts if you want.”
She stops, pulling her hand back. “Why do you have extra toothbrushes?”
Leaning forward, I take that hand again. She’s not going anywhere. “Dentist gives me a new one every visit. I use a sonicare.”
Opening the hall closet, I pull out a jar with ten toothbrushes in it. A real laugh bursts from her throat. I can’t help laughing, too. “It’s kind of ridiculous, I know.”
“So stop getting them!” She’s still laughing, her beautiful eyes sparkling. Damn, I’m so close to kissing her.
Clearing my throat, I return the jar after she selects one. “I should probably donate them to the BGCB.”
“I think they already have a dentist who does that.”
“Well, hell.” She laughs again, and I lead her to my bathroom. “It’s all yours. Freshen up, and I’ll leave a shirt on the counter.”
Walking back to the living room, I collect our dishes and take them to the sink. I don’t know what to expect. Will she cry? Should I let her have the bed alone?
No. I won’t rush her, but I won’t leave her alone.
The dishes are in the dishwasher, wine glasses in the sink, and I pick up my phone, touching the face to reopen her text. She needed me. Twice.
Warm satisfaction buzzes in my stomach. I can’t help a grin as I look at her name lighting up my phone. It’s the same way her smile lights up my insides.
I’m back in my bedroom, pulling off my dress shirt, ditching the slacks. I’ve just pulled on my jeans when I hear her calling me from the bathroom. Dropping my tee, I head to where I left her.
“Everything okay?” I stop just outside the door. It seems ludicrous to be so formal, considering how well we know each other, but I wait for her response.
“I need a bigger towel.” Pushing the door open a crack, I peek around to find her standing near my shower, hair pulled up and skin damp, a small hand towel clutched against her breasts, just skirting the tops of her thighs.
My hand drops from the doorknob, and her expression changes. Eyes wide, I see no sadness or fear, only heat. She draws me to her as if by invisible ropes. I cross the small space and wrap my arms around her shoulders. The small towel drops, and her bare breasts are against the skin of my chest. Her hands are at my waist, her face on my neck, and I exhale a soft groan.
Hands down, this is the best feeling on the planet.
For the space of a several heartbeats I simply hold her, feeling her skin melting into mine, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest. The only thing between us being the jeans I haven’t removed. Then I lean down to claim her mouth.
Our kiss is gentle, but intense. She tastes like the water from the shower, and she feels like heaven. Her lips part, our tongues curl together, and we stand, holding each other, making out in my bathroom.
She’s soft and easy in my arms. Our lips chase each other’s, tongues teasing. I kiss the side of her jaw, pulling a bit of skin between my teeth. She exhales a little noise, and I raise my chin.
“Oh, Amy,” I sigh, hugging her firmly against me.
My eyes close as I breathe in her scent. Tonight it’s not cinnamon. Tonight she smells like the crisp linen of my body wash. I love it.
I love her.
Shit. I love her. It’s the truth.
“I want to make love to you,” I confess.
Her face is pressed against my neck, and she doesn’t move. I feel her arms tighten at my waist, and I tighten my grip over her shoulders in response.
“If you’re too tired, I can wait.”
Her fingers lightly trace lines up my back, and she kisses the top of my chest. Her hands go around between us, reaching up to my cheeks, where her fingers line the sides of my jaw. My arms are still around her, and looking down, she’s in a cocoon, breasts pressed together, hands on my face. I never want to release her from this spot.
Her soft voice says the words I’m longing to hear. “I want you to make love to me.”
For a moment, I don’t move. I hold her in the shelter of my arms, of my body. She fills that space in me so perfectly. It’s always been waiting for her to appear. I didn’t know it. My eyes move around her face, this woman who is perfect for me. Her eyes stay on my face, blinking as she waits for what I’ll do next.
“Amy...” So many things I want to say. All of them will have to wait.
My brow clutches, and I only hold her, feeling the tension in my chest twist. She has to be mine. She’ll let me make love to her again tonight, yes, but in the morning, I won’t be able to let her walk away. In the morning, she’ll have to stay with me.
“Marcus,” she whispers back.
Her eyes are on my lips, heavy-lidded and sexy. Her lips are full and ready to be kissed. I’d venture to guess if I released my hold on her and slid a hand between her thighs, I’d feel her luscious wetness ready for my invasion.
“You’re staying with me.” It’s a low order. “I’m not waking up in the morning to find you gone.”
Pink lips tighten. She takes a breath before blinking up to me. The battle is brief, but she nods.
It’s enough. I lean forward to claim her mouth once more, plundering her depths with my tongue. She matches my strength, holding my shoulders as I lift her in my arms and carry her back to the bed.
She’s completely nude, her hair falling out of that messy bun, as she pushes to the center of my king-sized bed. I’m right behind her.
I can’t stop touching her. My hands shape the sides of her breasts, as my mouth closes around hers. She’s on her back, and I devour her body, kissing every square inch of skin in my path. It’s crazy. We haven’t missed any opportunity to be together—thanks in large part to me—yet this time feels different. New.
Kissing my way down her body, I spend some time on her belly, her ribs, the curve of her breast against her skin. She sighs and arches her back to meet my mouth. Her fingers thread in the sides of my hair. I suck and pull, but unlike before, I’m not desperately marking her creamy skin. I’m leisurely and sure. I’m exploring this body that is mine. Getting to know it, finding the places that make her squeal or giggle or groan with pleasure. I know a few of them already, but I want to know them all.
Now I’m on my elbows, my arms hugged around her waist. My face hovers at the base of her ribs, and I look up as she looks down. The flood of emotion that flows from her eyes into mine causes me to rise up and claim her mouth again, reaching for the back of her head as I do so.
Rolling onto my back, our mouths never part. She’s in my arms. Her legs spread, and she slides down my body. My erection is right at her ass, and it aches to sink deep into her core. Only I haven’t spent the time—she’s not ready...
Hello, it seems she is.
Slim fingers circle my cock, giving it a few pulls. My head drops back as I moan. “God, yes.” She positions me right at her entrance, and with a forceful push, I’m inside her.
“Amy.” My words are lost in her mouth covering mine, and now she’s the one devouring, vibrating my lips with her low moans. Her hips rock faster, scrubbing her clit against my pelvis, and my eyes roll back. The clenching and pulling begins, massaging and milking me. I won’t last long at this rate.
Reaching down, I grip both her ass cheeks. A firm squeeze and she lets out a strangled Yes! She’s riding faster, and I’m grinding her hips against mine, trying to make her come before I lose it.
“Come on, baby,” I groan, feeling my orgasm tightening in m
y pelvis. It’s too good, too intense. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple into my hairline, and I’m at the edge. My hand fumbles around, and my thumb circles her clit now.
“Come, Amy.”
She doesn’t stop moving, and I keep massaging. My ass tightens, and I let out a loud moan as my world splits in two. Her hips rock even faster as she fucks the best orgasm out of me since the boat. Deep inside her, my cock jerks and fills her.
One hand grasps her ass as an anchor to this world, but I manage to keep her clit going. She arches her back and lets out a wail.
“Oh, Marcus!” Then she curves forward. Her hand joins mine until she’s trembling, grasping my ribs as her hips slow and her lower half quakes. “Oh, god. Oh, god.”
She’s chanting and quivering as I hold one long thrust, coming down from the outer reaches of space to find this gorgeous creature getting off on my cock.
“Amy.” My voice is ragged. I slide my hands along her ass, up to her waist, up her back, and she collapses against me, holding my neck, her cheek against my throat.
I’m still inside her as I roll her onto her back. Hovering above, I slide my fingers along the line of her hair, moving the sweaty blonde strands away from her closed eyes. Leaning forward, I kiss the line of her eyebrows, tasting the light salt of her sweat.
“Beautiful. You’re so amazing.” I can’t help it. Everything has changed since I recognized the truth.
Her eyes blink open, but they’re sleepy. A lazy smile curls the side of her mouth. “We’re so good at that.”
With a laugh, I kiss her sweet lips briefly, pulling them into mine. “Sleep now.”
And with that, we both give in to exhaustion.
Chapter 19: Letting Go
Marcus
The sun disturbs my slumber, pushing through the east-facing window of my bedroom. Usually, I close the blinds, but I didn’t want to get up last night. I didn’t move the whole night, which is unusual for me.
Amy is curled at my side sleeping soundly. Happiness ripples like warm liquid in my chest at the sight of her creamy skin in the morning light, her blonde hair spread out around my pillow. I wrap around her, wanting nothing more than to keep her here. I want her with me forever.
