Are you busy?
No. I answered. What’s up?
Alone. Thinking too much.
No wild parties tonight?
No. You?
Nope. Staying in. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard on my screen, doing the little dance that people did as they debated exactly what to type next. With a sigh, I bit my tongue and went for it. Want to talk about it? You can always give me a call.
I rested the phone on one leg as I reached over to take the remote in my hands. Totally prepared for Will to take me up on my offer, I muted the volume on the festivities occurring in New York. But instead of ringing, my phone responded with notification of another text.
No.
No? I actually asked the question out loud, too.
No. Came his reply, like he’d totally anticipated that. Then, Answer your door.
I was in the middle of typing out that no one was knocking on my door when sure enough, the sound reverberated throughout my small apartment. Mid-text, I tossed the phone down on the couch and sprung up from the cushion to do what I was told.
Even though he’d given me enough context clues to anticipate the identity of my visitor, I still couldn’t help the look of shock on my face when I opened the door to him. Will seemed out of place here in my element, like he was somehow invading my territory. We stood before each other for a moment without saying a word.
“I know it was a stupid, impulsive thing for me to do,” he began.
I interrupted his train of thought with my expression. Still unable to utter a sound, I turned to the side, allowing him to pass through the doorway and inside my home. I shut the door behind him, latching it securely to either keep everyone else out or him in - I wasn’t certain.
He carried in his hand a plastic grocery bag from the market a few miles from my complex. I reached out for it; he handed it over. I peeked inside at what it held: a couple of steaks and a box of instant mashed potatoes. He’d brought me dinner. I still hadn’t said anything.
“Look,” he continued, “if I’m reading into things wrong, it’s okay. Just tell me. Just say I’m an idiot for driving two hours on the off chance you’ll have dinner with me.”
He spoke to my back now, as I’d moved into the kitchen to put the meat in the refrigerator. The potatoes remained in the bag, which I set on my countertop. He trailed behind me, looking for praise but fearing rejection.
“Gracie, please say something.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I crossed the space between us, miniscule as it was. Will still had on his winter coat and hat in case he needed to make a hasty retreat. I pulled off the stocking cap from his head, his wavy auburn hair popping out from underneath like an explosion. The hat drifted to the floor as I ran my fingers through his curls, smoothing them down. It was a fruitless effort. Giving up, my hands slid down to his cheeks until I cradled his face.
The kiss was long and lingering. It rivaled the one in his own kitchen, though this time we were both sober enough to enjoy it. This was deliberate. It wasn’t an accident that led to more. We’d been there, done that and we were both fully aware of what would happen next. But still our lips met frantically, like we were afraid of getting caught, afraid of this being forbidden.
As I focused my attention on memorizing the taste of him in my mouth, my fingers unzipped his coat, tugging his arms free from the sleeves. He helped me, the down jacket falling to the linoleum. I felt my foot kick it as we turned so he could lead me into the bedroom. One advantage of having a tiny apartment was that I didn’t need to point him in the right direction; he could plainly see where it was himself.
His hands slid under my shirt, obviously expecting to find a bra underneath, but there was none. He moaned into me when his fingers traveled unobstructed to my breasts, cupping them hungrily.
“You brought them, right?” I breathed as he laid me back on my mattress. “We have nine left.”
He grinned at me, the puppy dog look in his eyes no longer there. “Of course I did.” He reached in his jeans pocket and produced one of the condoms in question, holding it up for my perusal. “I came prepared for the best case scenario.”
“Then by all means, I hope you brought more than one.”
He answered with another kiss, one that threatened to rob me of my sobriety with its sheer intensity. His confidence bolstered, he slipped off his clothes while I tore at mine. Our respective items intertwined on the floor seconds before our bodies did the same.
This time was different, and it wasn’t just the absence of liquid courage. I felt like I was floating above myself, feeling the pleasure of his touch on my skin, of him inside me, even while my mind was racing as fast as my heart. The questions I’d posed to myself in his shower were screaming in my brain. They demanded answers.
How many times could we do this without it meaning anything? Did he want it to mean anything? Did I? If all he wanted was sex, did he really have to drive two hours in order to get laid? Or did that mean that he didn’t just want sex - he wanted sex with me?
I scrunched up my eyes, trying to squeeze the nagging voices away. I didn’t care. I only wanted to live in the moment, to enjoy him while he was here. I couldn’t do that with the constant commentary from my subconscious. It would just have to wait its turn.
Eventually, the distractions became a dull roar in the back of my head and I concentrated on the act itself. It didn’t take long after that before we both found our release, sliding ourselves down to my bed from our standing position. We rested for a moment on the cool cotton sheets before he got up to take care of things in my bathroom - again not needing to be directed to its location.
I was completely dressed before he returned to put on his own clothes. I watched as he did so, mesmerized as he pulled on his jeans and sweatshirt, picturing what I knew now was underneath.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He reached for my hand to help me up from where I was seated on the bed. When I was upright, his fingers lingered in mine for just a second longer than I expected. When they were gone, I felt slighted but I covered it well.
“So,” I said as we entered the kitchen. I bent down to extricate my skillet from the drawer underneath my stove, not knowing exactly where he was but knowing my voice would carry across the entire rental. “You got left out of the festivities tonight too?”
He laughed. “I’d say that’s debatable at this point. We might just be having a better time tonight than anyone else.”
“Maybe.”
Pan retrieved, I stood and placed it on the range top. He took the steaks from the fridge and handed them over. If one didn’t know better, we’d have looked like the picture of domestic bliss.
“I guess I’m surprised that you didn’t have to work tonight,” I contemplated. “It seems like it would be a big night for the cops.”
“It is. But I worked on Christmas. We alternate as much as we can, so I got tonight and tomorrow off.”
“That must have been difficult with your daughter and all. Explaining to her that daddy’s working on Christmas.”
Something was funny about that, because he laughed. “Emma’s to the point that she understands now. Besides, Christmas was her mom’s holiday. New Years is mine.”
“Naturally. It makes so much sense that you’re down here with me instead of with her.”
“Emma’s spending the night at a friend’s house.”
“That’s convenient. You’re going to hightail it out of here first thing in the morning so you can go pick her up.”
“Not exactly. She’s planning on going straight to work from there. She won’t be back at my place until tomorrow night, probably around dinner time.”
“Work? Is she like a child model or something? Training to be an actress?”
“No. She works at that bath store in the mall.”
The tongs that I was using to flip the steaks dropped from my hand and clattered on the stovetop. I caught them before they la
nded on the floor, burning myself slightly on the hot oil that covered their surface.
“Will?”
“Yes?”
“How old is Emma?”
“Sixteen. Why?”
I spun around to face him, bringing my injured finger to my lips to first suck, then blow on it. “How old are you, then?”
“Thirty-six.”
I spun back around so he wouldn’t witness me contemplating that for a moment.
“How old are you?”
Like he didn’t know already. He’d held my driver’s license in his hand. Unless he’d been too busy memorizing my address so he could drive down here for a booty call, he’d already seen my date of birth.
“Twenty-five,” I choked out.
“You’re mad.”
I shook my head violently. “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“I look younger than I am.”
“No shit. I was just wrong in assuming that you were the same age as Chris and Matthew.”
“I didn’t ever hide it. Or the fact that I had a teenage daughter. Chris knows.”
I laughed, because I wasn’t sure what else to do. “Like I would ask him for your resume. That would just be a giant red flag if I started questioning him about you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither one of us did anything wrong.”
If that was truly the case, what was with the cloak and dagger routine?
“We’re both consenting adults,” he continued. “Aren’t we?”
I responded by producing a saucepan from my cabinet and setting it on the range top. “You can handle making boxed potatoes, right?”
He could. Will jumped into the task, eager to do something with his restless energy. We stood in silence in my kitchen, almost touching, while we cooked for one another. This time, I was the one who broke first. It started with a snort as I recalled something from the not so distant past.
“What?” he asked, pretending he didn’t care what the answer was.
“A couple years ago, when Lauren was still with Eric, she attempted to set me up with Matthew.”
“Really?”
“Really. For obvious reasons, that had no chance in hell of ever taking off. I did have a couple of good fantasies about it to begin with. But anyway, the only trouble Lauren could see with me dating him - besides the fact she was in love with him - was the age difference and the two hour commute. So naturally, I choose to sleep with you: five years older than her man and still as far away.”
“Sleeping with and dating are two different things.”
“They look pretty similar right now.”
We said no more on the subject. Instead we piled our food onto our respective plates and went back to the sofa to eat. On television, the festivities were in full swing. We commented on the revelers halfway across the country, standing out in the cold just for the chance to say they’d been there when the ball dropped. I much preferred watching everything from the comfort of my small, albeit warm, home.
When we had finished our meal, Will helped me wash the dishes and put them away. That accomplished, he made the correct assumption that I wasn’t pissed enough at him to tell him to leave, so he went out to the parking lot to retrieve the small backpack he brought with him that contained his change of clothes. He settled back on the couch with me, his arm lingering on the back of the sofa, though he didn’t outright try to touch me.
Right before the clock was set to strike midnight, he turned to me. His action caused his arm to brush against my back and I leaned into him.
“You know what I heard about New Year’s?” he asked.
I wondered if it was a trick question. I raised my eyebrow, an invitation for him to continue.
“I heard that whatever you’re doing at midnight, that’s what you’re going to be spending a lot of your time doing the upcoming year.”
“I guess now’s not a good time to go to the bathroom and take a crap then.”
Will was different than any of the other guys I’d entertained by that aspect alone, the men who furrowed their brows when I said something off color. He simply grinned at me, then leaned closer.
As the partiers in New York started the big countdown, he raised his fingers to my chin, pulling me into him with his other arm. Our lips met, bridging the gap from one year to the next. We kissed well past that magical time he had just described, unable to stop.
When we did, I tried my hardest to stifle the yawn that had been building. If he hadn’t have shown up at my doorstep, I likely would have been passed out on the couch at midnight, not getting all hot and heavy with anyone. Fortunately, he didn’t take that as commentary on his technique.
“Tired?” he smiled.
I nodded. “I had the early shift at work. It’s nice getting off at five, but the waking up part is a bitch.”
“That’s cool. Do you have a blanket or something? I’ll just sleep out here; no big deal.”
“You’re an idiot.” I stood up from the couch, holding out my hand to him. I wasn’t sure if he was being coy and not wanting to expect too much from me, or if he truly thought I’d think that little of him. “You don’t get to drive all the way down here to be relegated to the sofa.”
He took my hand in his and allowed me to lead him to my bedroom. If he had half a mind to try to make a move on me again, he swallowed it down. We stripped to our underwear, him waiting for me to climb in under the comforter so that he could take the other side. In the darkness, I felt the mattress sink down with his unfamiliar weight. He was close enough to touch, yet far enough away that I supposed it was possible to forget he was there.
Possible, but not bloody likely.
I laid on my back, the comforter brushing against my bare breasts, mimicking how his hands felt upon my nipples. I closed my eyes, hoping to quiet the memories. Despite how tired I was, I’d never get to sleep like this.
“Gracie?” he whispered after a few minutes. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes.”
“May I hold you?”
Even though he couldn’t see my expression, I grinned at how silly his request sounded.
“Considering what we’ve done before, I think you’re past the point of having to ask permission to touch me.”
It was true. We’d slept together once - actually slept - back at his place. Granted, we’d both been relatively comatose given the amount of drinks we’d had. We hadn’t minded then if a random arm or leg invaded each other’s personal space.
But as he reached for me tentatively, I realized this was different. I submitted myself to him, letting him mold me the way he wanted to. He rolled me over so I laid on my side, him behind me. His arms held me tightly, but it wasn’t binding or restrictive. His face curved towards me, his lips pressed softly in the space where my neck met my shoulder blades, though he wasn’t kissing me. I could feel his every breath, his every heartbeat.
I could also feel my own pulse pounding very noticeably between my legs.
But I laid there, drinking it all in and wanting nothing more. In that very moment, I realized that I had never felt more safe in my life. The intimacy was astounding, a hundred times more powerful than that of the sex we’d had earlier. I knew then that he would do anything to protect me.
Even if it meant torturing the both of us.
Chapter Five
“So what do you want to do today?” Will asked, glancing at me with those seductive green eyes over his cup of coffee.
“When do you have to leave?”
He shrugged. “Normally I hate when people answer a question with a question, but I’ll let it slide. Like I said, Emma’s got to work today, so she won’t be home until after dinner. That gives me until maybe four in the afternoon before I need to head out.”
I took a sip from my own cup, considering.
“We could do anything you want,” he reminded me. He followed my
eyes as they swung back over to my bedroom door. “There’s always time for that later. I mean, is there anywhere you want to go? We’re incognito here; we don’t have to hide.”
“So Indianapolis is like our little love nest?” I smiled to temper the blow of him reading a bit too much into my use of the four letter terminology. He didn’t bat an eyelash.
“You could call it that, I suppose.”
An option came to me, but I shook it out of my head, blushing as I did so.
“What?”
“It’s stupid.”
“I told you anything. I meant it.”
“I was thinking,” I said, practically tugging the words out of my own mouth, “that we could go shopping.”
“Okay.”
“Doug got me a gift card for Christmas. He really shouldn’t have spent so much on me, but I think he feels bad about the baby and he’s trying to show me he still loves me, too. It’s kind of sick, really, that he’d think I’d be jealous of Sadie, but I do need some new clothes. And one of the things that I hate about shopping alone is seeing all these people my age walking around with their boyfriends, laughing and looking so god damn happy.”
My monologue complete, I stared at him. He stared back.
“I already said okay.”
“Really?”
“So you want me to walk you around all day and be like your stand-in boyfriend?”
“The way you phrase it just makes me sound desperate.”
“Hey, I’m in no position to judge.”
So it was settled. Instead of lying around the apartment naked all day, we would go to the mall. He showered first, leaving me to my own devices in the bathroom while he occupied my couch yet again and watched TV. His only stipulation was that I wear my hair down like I had the day of Blake’s wedding. Even though it was a pain in the ass to do it that way, I figured it was a small price to pay.
Two hours later, my black hair as smooth and shiny as a pane of glass, we piled into his Jeep and headed out. He admitted he had only a working knowledge of Indianapolis, which meant that he was probably completely lost. I navigated him through the maze of streets until we ended up at my favorite shopping location on the northern side of the city.
Changed Page 5
