Tempting Fate

by Amber Lin

  He pulled back slightly. “Can this one be fast?”

  I struggled to the surface. He sounded urgent, a bit desperate, and I hardly knew what he was asking. “What?”

  “Either that, or I need to come first,” he muttered. “No way am I going to last.”

  “Oh.” I ran a palm over the curve of his jaw, set so tightly. He was tense, and I wanted to ease him. “It’s okay. It can be fast.”

  “Are you sure?” He pressed urgent kisses along my jaw in answer.

  We were always like that, in symmetry. I offered, and he accepted. He asked, and I acquiesced.

  Was I sure? No, not really. I felt heat and dampness at my core. I wanted him, so that should be enough. It would have to be. I trusted him.

  I didn’t bother to answer this time, just shimmied myself so that I was centered under him. I spread my legs, and his hips fell effortlessly into the cradle of mine. His erection felt thick and impossibly hard where it pressed against me, but I knew it could work. It had done so when I cared far less than now.

  He snagged a condom from his wallet. I watched him while he opened his pants and put it on with jerky movements, his fingers flying too fast to see more than hard, flushed skin. His cheeks were ruddy with a flush of arousal, his whole body taut. I recognized the look from the first day in the car, moving slowly, rigid—a man in pain. Touching himself gingerly, wincing as my helpful fingers rolled it down his length.

  I matched his movements, pushing down my pants, my underwear. When I was naked, he slid two fingers down to my sex. I had expected roughness from his earlier blunt movements, but this was soft, probing.

  “You’re so wet,” he said, slipping one inside. “Just like you said. Slippery smooth. Jesus. Are you ready?”

  The question circled above me, not landing. Ready, ready—was I ready how? I had already agreed to fast, to sex. “Yes,” I murmured. “Now.”

  Like pulling up the floodgates, he was on me, pushing a broad head inside me, nudging farther, deeper, until I felt a burn. It surprised me after so much pleasure, and I let out a small cry before my lips closed around it.

  He froze. “Oh shit, you’re tight.”

  He was worried about hurting me, because he was. My inner muscles rippled around him, struggling to adjust. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine,” he said, strained.

  My eyes clenched tight. It wasn’t an impossible pain, nothing I couldn’t handle. A hundred pirouette reps hurt worse than this, and I did that every day. “Please. Just…continue.”

  “Continue?” His lust-stained eyes were incredulous, almost angry. “Fuck.”

  He pressed a heavy hand to my hip and started to draw away.

  “Wait.” It had taken us so long to get here. If he left me now, would we ever find our way back? I wanted to please him, I wanted to trust. Instinctively, I pulled him closer.

  “No, don’t move,” he ground out, rocks against concrete, filling the air with dust. And I was losing him—already lost.

  A sense of sorrow drowned out the pinch of my body. “Oh, Drew,” I sighed.

  Which turned out to be the wrong thing to say, because his face contorted in agony at the sound.

  He jerked himself back. “Ah, shit.”

  His cock sprang from me, and I gasped at the loss of pressure. His free hand flew to his cock, quick strokes, one, two, and then he froze. Groaning, he came into the latex, hunched over me, outside of me, and I turned my face away from the gorgeous, lonely sight of his rapture.

  Falling onto the floor beside me, he panted for a moment, his eyes closed. I lay still, unsure of myself. I wasn’t sure where I’d gone wrong, what I had done to ruin it.

  He turned to look at me. “You want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

  I had never seen him so agitated, and yet I wasn’t afraid of him. Afraid of losing him, maybe, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me even if he were furious. He seemed more frustrated, more confused even though that should have been my role.

  “I’m sorry, I…I thought you wanted to keep going,” I said lamely. He’d pulled away, and I’d tried to keep him. I’d said his name. That had set him off, I realized with a surety that pleased me, even if he didn’t seem happy about it. At least I’d made him come.

  He sat up, and despite my worry in that moment, I admired the curve of his long back, the bunch of his abs, and the soft crinkle of hair that drew shapes over his skin.

  I sat up too, suddenly self-conscious of my splayed position, of the gaping place he no longer took. My knees slunk together, and I pressed my shirt to my breasts.

  He spoke slowly, carefully. “Is it possible…are you a virgin?”

  “What? No.”

  “Okay.” Relief passed fleetingly across his face. “Because I thought for a minute there…”

  “I mean, I haven’t had a lot of sex or anything. It’s just been a while.”

  Suspicion crept into his eyes. “How long?”

  “Um…I’m not sure exactly. Ten years or something.”

  He swore. “You didn’t think to mention that to me before we started?”

  “I figured it was like riding a bike.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been about ten years since I’ve ridden a bike, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I fell off.”

  This had felt a little like falling. “Point taken.”

  “Ten years ago would make you a teenager.” Speculation lilted his voice. Wheels were turning in his head, making short work of my story. A boring way to pass the time, I could have told him.

  I shrugged. “I had a high school boyfriend. So sue me.”

  “I already despise him. Which I would already do because you’re mine now, and it’s basically written in the code of honor somewhere. But especially because he seems like a real idiot, judging by…”

  “Judging by my idiocy,” I said helpfully.

  He sent me a dark look. “Men don’t continue if it’s hurting you.” He paused. Some of the clouds in his face dissipated, giving way to concern so stark it hurt to see. “You know that…right?”

  “Of course I know that. No one hurt me.” But something inside me kicked in its cage, clamoring to be free. There was a reason I had no idea what I was doing. A reason I’d never wanted to learn before now.

  His expression was skeptical.

  “He didn’t, okay? I’m telling you the truth. I agreed to everything.”

  He turned away. “You don’t have to tell me what happened…or anything at all. You don’t owe me that.”

  “But I want to. You think I’m messed up. Everyone thinks I’m messed up just because I had an abusive dad and lived in a group home. Well, let me tell you something. Dad didn’t much care about me, and neither did the people at the home. They didn’t mess me up because they weren’t around to do it.”

  “Rose.” He looked pained, and I wanted to apologize for that, but the words were tumbling out of me, spilling over.

  “He was my boyfriend, just a stupid sixteen-year-old like me. We were fooling around behind the gym. No big deal, right? It’s nothing.”

  He reached for me then, pulling me into his arms and surrounding me in heat. It should have been awkward—body parts bared and still damp—but he held me too tight to care about any of that. He hugged me as if I were coming apart and he could keep me together. He held me as if he needed to.

  My words were muffled against his chest now, and I wasn’t sure he could even understand them. Though maybe it was better that way. I wasn’t saying them for him to hear. I was saying them to myself, finally acknowledging that it mattered.

  “I agreed to go back there with him, knowing what would happen. I agreed to have sex with him, and then we did. Then my boyfriend said his friend was right there keeping watch and he would tell everyone what I’d done if I didn’t…if I… I didn’t want Philip to find out. He would have—”

  “Killed him.” The words vibrated through him, like maybe he agreed with the sentiment, like he could have com
mitted murder in that moment too. Maybe he was less laid-back than I’d given him credit for, but then he had survived in this business for a long time. Long enough to get killed himself if he wasn’t careful and tough.

  “Yes. He would have. So I did what he wanted. I lay there, and I took it, when I didn’t even know him.” A harsh laugh escaped me. “And I never complained when it happened again and again. I never told anyone until now. You have to understand, in the school I went to, that was normal. And everyone there was tough as nails. I’m not fragile, Drew. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”

  But my words were a lie, because his whole body was curved around mine, taking the brunt of some unseen force. I was trembling, fearful, bearing the brunt as all the lies I had told myself began to unravel.

  As awareness returned, mortification washed over me. He’d wanted to have a fun romp in the study, and here I was crying. I didn’t know how mindless affairs were done, but I could safely assume high school confessionals weren’t part of it.

  I wiped at my tears. “You must be pissed.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I groaned, giving up any pretense of being cool and collected. “I’ve only been working toward this for years. It’s shocking I could mess it up this bad.”

  “Well, I would have preferred to have known this before I made an ass out of myself, pushing myself on you before you were ready. But aside from that, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

  “How can you say that? I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to be rehashing stuff that happened in high school. Especially the kind of stuff that happens to everyone.”

  “I don’t think that happened to everyone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I think I do. But the thing is, even if it were commonplace, which I don’t agree with, it still matters. It can still hurt.”

  It did hurt: the shitty childhood and my initiation into sex at the hands of my jerk boyfriend and his friend. Pretending it didn’t matter hadn’t made it go away. Pretending it didn’t hurt hadn’t eased that ache. Everyone had a story, and this was mine.

  I met his eyes. “So we’re okay, then? Even though that…didn’t go according to plan. We’re not finished. Right?”

  “Of all the things you know about me, do you think I scare easily? Don’t worry. It gets better after the first time.”

  “God, I hope so, because my first time kind of sucked.”

  We shared a smile. Strange that I could joke about something that had haunted me for so long. There weren’t many men I could have done that with. But our quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of the door closing below. I sprang from his lap and darted for my clothes.

  “Shit. Philip.”

  I didn’t even want to think of what would happen if he found us with our pants off—in his study, of all places. I was halfway back into my jeans when Drew folded my hands in his.

  “I want to tell him, Rose. He should know, and we shouldn’t have to sneak around.”

  For a stolen moment, I was struck by his earnestness. The stereotype made lawyers seem sneaky, but he was the most honest person I knew.

  “We’re really going to do this.” I repeated my earlier question with conviction.

  He grinned, flicking a quick look at our disheveled state. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we already are.”

  I pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Okay, but when we do tell him, we should probably not be half-dressed after having sex in his office.”

  “Good point taken,” he said, sliding into action.

  We scrambled to find our clothes. Luckily, our earlier haste worked in our favor. We grabbed the puddles of fabric nearby and were presentable by the time Philip strolled in with a mug of steaming coffee.

  He paused on entry, and I was sure he had it all figured out. Drew’s hair was all rumpled and sticking up in back, a victim of my roaming, clenching hands. I was fidgeting in the corner, having completely forgotten how to stand still. I was sure my guilt must be written all over my face. Meanwhile, Drew’s expression was faintly challenging.

  Seemingly oblivious, Philip sat down across from Drew. “So, how far did you get?”

  “Not far at all, actually,” Drew said smoothly. “Something came up.”

  Did the man have a death wish?

  “Really?” Philip asked. “What was that?”

  “Me,” I blurted out, desperate to turn the conversation away from Drew and me and our mutual distraction.

  Both men turned to me with expressions of surprise.

  “I was asking for his help with…with legal structures for small businesses.”

  They stared. I took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Philip, but I wasn’t sure how you would react. I want to open my own dance studio. It’s been a dream of mine for a long time, and I’ve found the perfect place to lease.”

  “A dance studio.”

  “And the bright side is I won’t dance professionally anymore, which I know you’ve been asking me about.”

  Philip turned to Drew. “She told you about this, and you didn’t say anything?”

  “Well, it’s all rather recent,” Drew said carefully. “We’ve been discussing the ramifications of her branching out.”

  I took it back: the man could be sneaky.

  Philip turned back to me. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. I would have supported you opening a studio, especially if it meant you didn’t hurt your knees as much.”

  “Right. Well…I’ve also been thinking it’s time for me to move out.”

  He scowled. “I don’t see why that’s necessary.”

  “I know you don’t.” I sighed. “Should I even point out that Colin was living on his own when he was seventeen?”

  “No. I didn’t agree with that either, but it’s totally different besides.”

  “Because I’m a woman.”

  “Because you’re my sister, and I have a lot of enemies.”

  I softened, knowing he was only trying to protect me. That was what he’d told Drew all those years ago, and I knew he still thought that way, that his job was to keep his family safe at all costs. “I’ll be careful, Philip. But I can’t stay here forever. You know I can’t.”

  “Is this because of—” He looked at Drew.

  Drew opened his mouth, and I realized how much worse it would be if he spilled the beans now. Now, when Philip would surely attribute my desire to open a studio and move out to my desire for Drew.

  In all honesty, they were linked—all wrapped up into a neat package labeled Things Rose really wants but never had the guts to take. Then Philip would blow up, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “Drew, I really need to speak to my brother alone. Would it be possible for you to excuse us?”

  His eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what I was doing, and he could light the fuse with a few choice words. But he was too good for that. Too respectful—something that I found a real turn-on, considering the lowlifes I’d met in my past.

  “Okay.” He shuffled the papers together from the coffee table. “I’ll work on these at home.”

  Philip and he discussed their plans briefly before Drew left. His last look at me was a concession: Fine, we’ll do it your way. For now.

  I hated that he might think, even for a second, that I was ashamed of our relationship or that I wasn’t serious about him. But I had been locked up in the tower for so long. It would be a long, slow way down to the ground, starting with telling Philip about my plans.

  I sat with Philip in the opposing armchairs. “I know you feel protective of me.”

  His expression was stormy. “Protective doesn’t really describe it. Do you remember how I found you?”

  How could I forget?

  As they say, there are only two seasons in Chicago: winter and construction. When Philip turned eighteen, he found work for a small building company, but the judge wouldn’t grant custody of
me to a punk eighteen-year-old who lived with a roommate to make rent. Then the company he worked for got in a bind—something about a city permit that wouldn’t go through. I never found out what Philip did to push it through, especially with the tiny amount of clout and money he’d had back then, but after that, he became known as the man who fixed problems.

  With typical teenager shortsightedness, I grew to resent his freedom while I was cooped up under curfew. I stopped confiding in him, and he was hardly in the mindset to win over a surly teenager.

  My boyfriend had gotten rougher, meaner…he was abusing me, though I still struggled to admit it. When Philip had shown up at the group home for a visit, I hadn’t been there in days. He went looking for me and found me passed out in my boyfriend’s bed from alcohol or drugs or whatever else. He’d lit into my boyfriend, and I was convinced he’d have faced a murder charge if he hadn’t been more concerned with getting me to a hospital, where I was pronounced to be fine. “She’s lucky,” the doctor had said.

  “Well.” I forced a smile. “Everything worked out for the best.”

  Philip snorted. “Too fucking late, in my opinion.”

  Guilt had been written all over the judge’s face when Philip had applied for custody again. He had an apartment in a better part of the city by then, but we all knew it was because of that incident that the judge had awarded custody to him. And living with him, where he had sheltered me from the harsher side of life all these years, was the best thing that could have happened to me.

  I’d been protected, allowed to heal and flourish without any pressure at all. Dancing had been a way to express myself and take back control of my body. This was the next step.

  “I’m grateful you were there for me. I’ll always love you for that, but it’s time for me to leave.”