by Gina Conkle
Tense and quivering, I collapsed on Mark’s shoulder. His strong arm manacled my thighs, holding me in place. Mark hadn’t penetrated me, yet the white hot ball of carnal pleasure exploded in my pelvis. Vivid colors burst behind my eyelids. I was ravaged and pleasured, and we had yet to get in Mark’s bed.
My limbs shook. The orgasm rolled through my body as I yelled, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” against his back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mark set a steaming cup of orange ginger tea by my nose. How thoughtful.
“Good morning.” His low, raspy chuckle tickled my insides. “I should say good afternoon.”
“What?” I rose up on one elbow, brushing tangled hair off my face.
Pearl-grey skies, over bright and over bearing, made me wince. Mark grinned at me, a white towel wrapped around his waist. The shower. This was his second shower. The first was last night when I lay groggy and drugged after several rounds of Mark’s talented fingers having worked me over. The mattress had lightened, and under the bottom of my eyelids, I watched him hitch stiff-legged to the shower with what I guessed was a massive case of blue balls. Minutes later he’d climbed in bed with me, jeans on, spooning me with his icy cold chest to my back.
Tangy sex smells filled the room. It was plastered on my skin and the sheets pooling around my hips as I sat up and drank my tea. I touched the thin, white line above his towel, the abdomen he refused to let me touch because true to his word, Mark kept his jeans on with me.
“We don’t have time, babe.” He removed my hand from his body, his voice gritty from lack of sleep.
Mark ducked in and out, getting dressed with all the energy of a sex-sated man. We had this backward. His needs were neglected –by his mandate- while my sore vagina needed a vacation. And my breasts…I examined skin rubbed pink from his whiskers. Mark had sexed me up, yet I was the cranky one nursing a cup of tea.
He pulled a navy blue T shirt over his head and finger-combed wet hair, walking to the bed. “Time’s wasting.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll feed you unless you want to grab something on the way to the airport.”
The airport. My promise last night to drive him. It was said in the heat of the moment between steamy kisses and steamier caresses. I’d come to learn sex with Mark was as much an art form as it was athletic.
I held the cup between my breasts. “The airport. You’re going to Australia.”
“That’s the plan.” He stuffed another shirt into an army green duffle bag the size of a back pack. His passport with papers folded lengthwise stuck out from a side pocket.
Mark stood up, the modest-sized duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He was loose-limbed. The contempt line was gone. We’d carried on into the wee hours of the morning, yet lack of sleep hadn’t drained him.
He wanted this. He wanted to leave.
My eyes were grainy, I smelled of sweat and sex, and my stomach growled. Worst of all my heart sunk like a rock.
Mark let the bag drop to his side as he planted another tender but chaste kiss on my forehead. “Come on, babe. Take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
He left the room whistling, and I slinked off to the bathroom. Hot tears bathed my face, blending with hot water spraying my head. All soaped and shampooed up, I let the tiled wall hold me up as I sobbed in the corner. I was too proud to beg Mark to stay, and I was too sad to not say something. My red-rimmed eyes would give me away.
I dried off and got dressed, remembering bits and pieces of last night. Mark’s parents would take care of his house while he was away. He hadn’t packed much, thinking he’d come back to take care of the rest. Guys. Most of them weren’t big on details. I had the feeling he leaned on his mom and dad a lot. Dressing was robotic and lonely in his dismantled bedroom. Dense, grey clouds filled the skies. No rain. No thunder. Just hollowness like a bad hangover that won’t leave. Dragging a brush through my hair, fresh pain nicked my scalp. The needle sharp hurt kept me going, each swipe of the brush I posed a question, answering myself with the next downward stroke.
Do I have the right to ask him to stay? No. I’ve known him two days.
Is there a rule about how long before you can fall in love? I don’t know.
Is trying to keep him here a mistake? You got a new start in California. He deserves a new start too.
Is letting Mark go the best thing for him…or the best thing for you?
Yanking hard on the brush, tears pricked my eyes. I drew a blank on my last question. Behind me footsteps padded across carpet. My red-rimmed gaze touched Mark’s blue-grey stare in the bathroom mirror.
His mouth softened. “Abbie.”
We were wooden, awkward…as bad as the first night we met. No this was worse. Our first night we were strangers with nothing to lose. In our short time together, I’d come to realize my Surfer Man liked how we navigated gray areas. Being with me gave him permission to escape the hard sex rules he’d lived under the past few years. But it wasn’t only a sex thing. Mark had poured out a lot to me, and likewise I’d done the same with him. That’s a lot of emotion packed into two days. We’d gotten comfortable with silent, ambiguous areas of communication. Swallowing the lump in my throat, this was one time not saying something aloud was the course I chose. If I said how I felt, I’d be asking him to stay for me. I didn’t want that.
I wanted Mark to choose me.
He stood a few feet away, shoulders hunched in a hoodie sweatshirt. “Time to go, babe.”
There was no trace of the man who looked at me last night like I was the best gift to ever land in his lap.
“I made a bagel for you,” he added. “It’s downstairs by your purse.”
I tied my shoes and pushed awkwardly off the floor. “I’d rather eat and then drive.”
“You’re not driving. I am.” His eyes raked me head to toe. “Got a jacket in your car?”
“Yes.” I followed Mark downstairs. I should’ve known he’d want control on the freeway.
My independent it’s my car sensibilities evaporated when I spied the empty beach towel in his living room. The three-finned surfboard, the travel bag, and spring suit were gone.
Mark grinned at my questioning face. “A shipping service picked it up this morning while you slept.” Hustling me along, he handed me my purse and the bagel on the way out. “Don’t forget to deposit the check on Monday.”
Great. After last night, our talking and sharing, we’re reduced to two people going through logistical motions. I pictured the mental cogs ticking in Mark’s rational mind. Feed Abbie. Check. Make sure Abbie has a jacket for bad weather. Check. Remind Abie to deposit money. Check.
I hop stepped over puddles in the cracked cement walkway. At my car, Mark held out his hand. “Keys?”
In minutes, he had my four-wheeled tin can rattling in the slow lane on I-Five, a classic rock station playing quietly. I munched on the bagel. Words hung over our heads like comic strip bubbles, but I turned up the music. I was not in a conversational frame of mind. Mark gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his profile alternating between a scowl and what I’d call disbelief. His mouth was flat, expressionless. It wasn’t until we merged onto the four-O-five freeway that I spoke up.
“Where are you going to in Australia?”
He glanced at me as if surprised to hear me talking. “I’m meeting my friends at Margaret River.” His profile split with a smile. “You’d like it. There’s wineries, little shops and book stores. It’s got a small town feel. Very beautiful.”
“You’re right about bookstores, but what makes you think I like wineries or that I’d enjoy a small town atmosphere?” I snorted softly. “It’s not like you know me very well.”
His blue eyes slanted sideways a split-second. Mark faced clustering traffic as me merged at a crawl with the next freeway. Taillights beamed red as skies darkened.
He chuckled a dry, self-deprecating
sound. “I don’t know why I assumed you would.” He shrugged. “Do you?”
“Yeah. I do. All of it.” I stared at the columns of cars crammed ahead. “I was going to travel right after graduation. Backpack around Europe with some friends.”
“You can still do that.”
“Sure. Someday.” I cleared my throat, shifting on my squeaky seat. “Now especially thanks to you.”
“Then why so miserable? You’re free.”
Cars in our lane thinned out. Drivers rolled north, some exited, others flew off on the HOV -the high occupancy vehicle- lane. We could’ve taken the faster HOV lane, but Mark drove my tin can car in the slow lane a hair under the speed limit. I stared at all the blurring taillights. Mirrored buildings loomed and disappeared as we drove past. In the distance gray skies touched grey lanes. We sped along the freeway, but free was the last word I felt.
“Abbie?” Mark dipped his head at me.
“Yeah.”
Mark’s fingers wrapped tighter around the steering wheel. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
This was a golden opportunity. I could lay out my case why he shouldn’t leave. Why he should stay with me and give this thing between us a chance. I knew all the reasons he wanted to leave. I could think of only one reason for him to stay.
“C’mon. Talk to me.” He switched off the radio.
“Because I’m Honest Abbie?” I asked bitterly.
“Because I care about what’s going on inside you.”
“This is one of those no win situations.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to stay, but I want you to want to stay without me asking it of you.” I groaned, cupping my temples. “I’m usually okay with emotions, but this…” I waved my hand at the windshield.
“It’s complicated. I get it.”
The corner of his mouth tugged back with a sexy grin. I’d not fully appreciated his profile, the overlong brown hair brushing his scruffy jaw or the side view of his lashes and hawkish nose. Quad muscles flexed under his jeans. I reached over and ran my hand along Mark’s thigh because I had every right to touch him. He let my hand rest there and flicked on the signal light to merge onto Sepulveda Boulevard. A band squeezed my ribs. The airport exit.
Mark linked his hand over mine. “Abbie, why do you want me to stay?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Head shaking, Abbie laughed softly, staring straight ahead. “I’m not answering that again.” She took a deep breath and talked barely above a whisper. “This time it’s got to be you taking the risk.”
She wanted to me lay open my heart to her.
Yeah. No big deal.
Palms damp on the wheel, I slowed the car, getting into the flow of vehicles melding into fewer lanes. We had three miles to the terminal. I’d told Abbie last night no long, drawn out good-byes. A quick drop off at Departures and that’s it.
Our traffic light beamed red and long lines of cars rolled to a stop. Abbie twisted in her seat, her mouth a firm line. Taillights from the pick-up truck in front of us shined red on her cheek. Fuck. This was hard. It’d be easy to say we’ve only known each other two days. I’d logically weighed the pros and cons of us when I packed my surfboard in the early morning hours. Zipping up my board’s travel bag I was a man with a plan…and then my mattress creaked upstairs. Abbie was in my bed. It’s where I wanted her to stay.
Swallowing my fear, I nudged my head at the back seat. “Take a look.”
“At what?” She peered around the head rest, her voice testy. “I see the food you cooked last night in a bag. I see my laundry basket and your black duffle bag.” She flopped back in her seat. “I’m not up for playing I spy.”
“I’m going to Australia with a small duffle bag.”
“Sooooo you travel light?”
The signal switched to green. We didn’t move. LA traffic was its own microcosm. If you wanted to live, you waited for the five or more drivers to finish running their red light before proceeding on your green light. Speed limits and traffic lights in LA are suggestions. Vehicles around us rolled forward only to stop again. Horns blared, the noise bouncing off the cement overpass.
“Yes, I travel light. Did it cross your mind to ask why a man interviewing for a job doesn’t have a garment bag for his suit?”
“Maybe laser guys don’t wear suits? Maybe the great Mark Green shows up for an interview in his jeans and gets whatever job he wants?”
“Smart ass.” I grinned at her mouthiness.
“You can’t charm, kiss, or bully your way out of this one. I deserve to hear you tell me what’s going on inside you, not try to dig it out.”
I winced. She deserved my honest, unvarnished feelings. It’s what I’d learned being with Abbie for two days. Honesty, emotions, sex. I’d had a radical reprogramming, but I was a work in progress.
“You think I’m a bully?”
“Bully. Dominating. Order me around,” she said, batting the air. “Call it whatever you want, Mark. It’s still you bull-dozing your way to what you want.”
“Am I that bad?” Traffic surged forward. The Bradley terminal’s tempered green glass glimmered ahead. We were close to saying to good-bye. Air caught going into my lungs.
“Let me see. There’s You stand for this one.” She tapped a finger. “My jeans stay on is another.” She tapped a second and third finger, her smile stiff. “My personal favorite was you probing whether or not I had a vibrator.”
“In my defense, you did answer the vibrator question.”
“Mark…”
My attempt to lighten the mood was not well taken.
“Okay. Got it. But, babe, if there’s something you want or don’t want, tell me.”
Abbie’s head rested on her door window. “Stay or go…this time you have to answer the question.”
We moved at a snail’s pace blocked in by hotel shuttle busses, yet my body could be floating deep in blue-green water clear enough to see forever. The Abbie effect. I caught my reflection in the windshield, a surf rat in need of a haircut and a shave. I’d seen my face a thousand times but not really seen me, not through Abbie’s eyes.
Steering toward Departures, the truth was I was in a car with a woman I’d met two days ago. On the surface, the average man would call this a hot fling, yet somewhere between hello and last night we’d blown past the surface. She was soft heart and iron spine. I’d changed because of Abbie. It’d be impossible not to.
Best of all she was comfortable in life’s ambiguous places. I was falling for her. Fuck. Two days and I was falling for her.
What would happen if Abbie gave me a lifetime?
I pulled up to the curb, switched to parking lights, and left the motor running. I reached over and stroked her thigh. Florescent lights outside tinged Abbie’s hair white gold. Big blue-green eyes swallowed me. Open and honest. No make-up. Not even lip gloss on shell pink lips and she was beautiful.
“Mark?”
I swallowed hard, tracing a slow line on her jeans. I could get this right and win her. Or I could fuck this up.
I linked our hands. “Two days and you’ve left your mark on me.”
My heart beat hard. Our music was a porter blowing his whistle and car horns in the distance. I curved one hand around her nape and pulled her close. Our foreheads touched. My free hand slipped inside her jacket, memorizing her shape. Her flat midline. The top of her ribs. Abbie rubbed her nose against mine. She whispered my name and I could hear the smile in her voice when I reach for her boob. The weight was a comfort. Fuck. Wanting a woman’s curves was one thing. Touching the curves of the woman you love? It filled empty spots inside me.
“You’re perfect.” I plucked her nipple. “I’ve been waiting for a girl like you.”
Abbie buried her face in my neck, her hitched breaths sweet. We hu
ddled, safe in the dark car. With my hand in her jacket no one could see my intimate touches. We’d look the same as other couples embracing in long good-byes.
Abbie moaned against my skin as my thumb circled her aureole through her shirt. “What are you telling me?”
Blinding headlights blasted through the back window. A siren blipped and a loud speaker announced, “Move on.”
I broke away from Abbie. “At least he didn’t say ‘Stop feeling her up.’”
Laughing, she jumped out and waved at the police car, calling out, “Sorry. We’ll move.”
The cruiser rolled past. I grabbed my black bag and hustled around to Abbie waiting on the curb. She tugged the front of my hoodie, her smile sweet and sexy. “No hands. You have to talk to me with words.”
Travelers moseyed past, dragging wheeled luggage. Despite the noise around us, I kept my voice intimate.
“Wait for me Abbie. I don’t deserve you but I want you. For the rest of our lives.”
I brushed her unruly bangs aside for a better view of her face. She was beautiful, her sparkling eyes looking straight into my soul. I resented the clothes layered between us, the crowds, and for the first time, my surf trip.
“The rest of our lives.” Her arms slid around my waist. “No one’s ever asked for forever.”
“I am.”
“I want to be with you too.” She glanced at the bag I clutched in my right hand. “This trip…how long will you be gone?”
“A month. Maybe longer. I don’t know. I need this break.” I stroked her jaw with the back of my fingers. “Do you understand?”
“I do.” Hugging my waist tighter, she pushed up on her toes and kissed my mouth —a sweet peck full of understanding. It was a gift. She was a gift. “I’ll wait for you. But you’ll email me? Send me pictures of Margaret River?”
I kissed her forehead, grinning without shame. “I have your work email.”
“That’s right. My stalker.”
We held each other, our breaths in rhythm. Crowds flowed around the island we made. I memorized the scent of Abbie’s hair, how her body fit against mine.
