by K Larsen
“You brought dessert?”
“What kind of meal would it be without something sweet?” He grins and that lone dimple appears. I consciously remind myself not to reach out and touch it.
“Well, truth be told, I’m not huge on dessert,” I say. “I’m picky.”
“Blasphemy. I am certain you will enjoy this.”
I laugh and tell him to bring it on. When he pulls out a small white box, I am intrigued. It is not candy, or chocolates or brownies. This came from a bakery I am familiar with. Is it possible this man has the exact same tastes as me? In a world full of processed foods and hydrogenated oils, the odds seem slim to find someone else who also seeks out fresh, wholesome eats. He lifts the lid back, revealing an arrangement of plump, fresh pears.
I raise a brow at him.
“They’re baked pears with cinnamon and they’ve been cored, the middle is homemade whipped cream.” I dramatically raise the back of my hand to my forehead and topple backward onto the blanket. Liam bursts out laughing.
“Good enough to faint, eh?” he jokes.
“Sounds sublime. Divine actually.”
“Good thing I bought two.”
I sit up and take the paper plate with mine from him. Knives aren’t required. The pears are baked to perfection and soft enough to cut through with a plastic fork.
“I know that box,” I admit. “I, however, have not had the pleasure of this concoction yet from them.”
He looks surprised and pleased with my answer. The expression leaves a slippery sort of satisfaction in my chest.
Liam
I watch while she devours her pear, the entire time imagining it is my cock in her mouth. When she licks her lips clean of cream, I almost groan. I cannot sit here like this another moment.
“Let’s take a walk. I hear there are some paths around the river,” I suggest.
“There are. I know most of them. This is kind of my place,” she says. I stand, my back to her and adjust my pants. When I turn, she is watching me curiously. I ignore the look.
“Lead the way,” I say. We leave our things on the blanket and walk across the park to the riverside without speaking. I watch her as we go. I expected to feel more, animosity, toward her. She loved my brother. I hate my brother. But I find myself more curious about her than anything. She isn’t stunning in any expected way but yet she is—stunning. She is not the type of woman I’m usually seen with. As far as I can tell, she wears no makeup. She is modestly dressed and she doesn’t seem to care about dangling from my arm like a piece of candy. There is a pull that I don’t often feel, with her. I know everything about her, yet I feel there is so much more to uncover. Her mind is a maze and I’ve only just started exploring it.
“This way,” she says and tugs on my arm. I look at where her fingers grip my T-shirt sleeve. Delicate, slender fingers. The urge to suck on them hits without warning. She notices me watching and drops her arm to her side.
“Sorry, I was zoned out I guess,” I say.
She smiles at me. “The river will do that to you.”
The air is crisp and fresh and the afternoon sun glares down on us. The water rushes next to us. Nora looks serene here.
“Aren’t you hot?” I ask.
She turns to me. “A little.”
I want to see more skin. I want to know if the freckles on her face grace the rest of her body. “Take off your sweater,” I say.
She shakes her head at me. “I’m fine. Look.” She points toward a rock that juts out over the water.
I stop short and ask, “Should we sit?”
She grins at me, takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the rock. Mindful of her dress, she lowers herself to sit. I follow her lead. She removes her flip flops and sets them in her lap before dipping her feet into the river.
“It’s cold today.” I look down at the water rushing under us. “Take your shoes off. Put your feet in. It will cool you down,” she says. I pull off my shoes and socks and set them behind me on the rock. Gingerly, I dip my feet into the water.
I suck in a rushed breath. “It’s freezing,” I say. Nora laughs. The kind of laugh that is from genuine amusement.
“But it feels good,” she says. I nod.
“Who’s Daisy?” I point to a name plaque secured to a tree to her right.
Nora shrugs. “I don’t know. But maybe this was her spot?”
“A mystery. I like it. What do you think she was like?” I ask.
Nora looks to me quizzically, like I have tapped into her brain somehow, then looks to the water.
“I guess she was someone who liked sitting here.” She looks around our small space. “Either she was joyful or troubled. Enjoying this spot could go either way.”
“Troubled?” I ask.
“People seek solace when they are troubled. Being here, in this spot, makes me think she needed a place to reflect. But,” she says and catches my eye, “It is also a fabulous spot to enjoy, as well. So maybe she was happy.”
“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” I push my unruly hair from my forehead.
She grins and nods at me. “It’s an unfair advantage,” I say. “It requires an understanding of people and an imagination,” she counters.
“Are you saying I have neither?” I bump my shoulder playfully against hers.
“Who me? Never. I am certain you are intelligent.”
“Certain, huh?” I chuckle. The way she speaks amuses me. So formal sounding but still perky.
“The evidence points to certain, yes.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.
“There’s evidence?” I laugh.
“Oh, yes. I’ve compiled quite a bit thus far,” she says. The water rushes over the rocks around us. Birds chirp and wind rustles the leaves of the surrounding trees, as we sit shoulder to shoulder.
“Do tell,” I say. She regards me a with mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Let’s see. You have a job, that is a plus. You donate to very important charities.” She smirks at me. “You have impeccable taste in food. And,” she pauses. She reaches out. Her forefinger touches my chin, and turns it until we’re eye to eye. “You’ve got secrets.”
Does she know who I am? I am thrown off guard by her observation. I frown but only momentarily. “It’s okay,” she says. “Secrets are part of a life well-lived.” She looks back to the water rushing over the tips of her red painted toes. I am compelled to speak but I can’t form the right words.
We sit side by side, feet in the water, in silence. It suits Nora. She doesn’t mind the quiet. In fact, I’d venture she prefers it.
The sun is low in the sky when we pack up our picnic. I’m excited that our lunch turned into an entire afternoon together.
“Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car,” I offer.
“I walked here.” The blanket is bundled up under her arm, clutched in her fingers is a large, heavy looking purse.
“With all that stuff?”
“I don’t mind,” She says and laughs lightly.
“Let me drive you home. It’ll be dark soon.”
She shakes her head. “I like walking.”
I sigh. “Let me walk you then. I won’t feel right letting you walk alone.”
She chuckles at me and tells me I am chivalrous and that she is perfectly capable of getting herself home. That the area is safe. All facts I am aware of. But still, I don’t let it die and finally she gives in.
I take the blanket from her.
“Thank you. Today was fun,” she says. The streetlights begin to hum and buzz as they do before clicking on. Her flip flops thwack the sidewalk.
“I did, too. We should hang out again,” I say.
She shrugs at me. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I balk.
“Yes, maybe. I’m quite busy,” she says. I laugh loudly. At the intersection of her street, I stop to pretend I don’t know which way to go. I need to remember to let her lead the way.
“I’m this way,�
� she says. Yes. I know that. I’ve been to your house. I’ve been in your room. I know what color your bedspread is. What pictures you keep near your bed. What books you read. I follow her to her door.
“Can I come in?” I ask. It’s a long shot but worth the query. She tosses her hair over one shoulder and shoots me a funny look.
“No,” she says.
“Can I have your number?” She shakes her head. I frown petulantly.
“I will take yours, though.” She reaches her hand into her purse and retrieves her phone before waiting for me to ramble off my number. “There. I’ll call you sometime. As a friend.” She takes the blanket from me.
“You’re infuriating,” I muse. She gives me a megawatt smile and laughs before closing the door softly behind her. As I walk to my car, back near the park, I’m already calculating how to persuade her to see me again this week. A smile creeps across my face as I slide into the driver’s seat and crank the engine, ready to head home.
Nora
Holden’s green eyes, set like jewels inside dark, long eyelashes, watch me. I bask in their attention. “Now, Nora.” His voice sends chills down my spine. I strip bare and take position. The pain that comes next is delicious juxtaposed to the pleasure he will give me. I am wet with anticipation. Forehead to the floor, I inhale sharply with the first slice of the cool metal to my back. “Tell me,” he says. I exhale, “Only ever you.” Warm lips caress my hip before the blade slices again.
When he flips me over, it is Liam’s face I see. Panic swallows me.
* * *
The moment my eyes open, I wish I was asleep again. I hate mornings. I hate that I’ve woken up at all. I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I dreamed of baby sized hands and feet. Of rough fingers and beards. I will never kiss those cheeks again or feel his hand in mine. I’m tired and grumpy and likely will be until I’ve showered and had coffee. Eve and Lotte are aware that it is unwise to speak to me in the first hour I’m awake. I’m like a she-devil. Everything is heinous in the morning. I attempt to center myself and squash the rising anxiety in my chest. Life is hard and that’s okay. Life is ... oh, fuck it, I think. I rub the heels of my hands against my eye sockets and sigh. Life can be so underwhelming.
My footsteps are muffled by the plush carpet as I go back and forth. When the house is quiet and the air hangs thick and still around me, I daydream of a different life. I imagine I’m a fascinating person. One who people gravitate toward. A person so full of life and joy, that others can’t help but be drawn to me. That I am beautiful, stunning. Not just outwardly but inside, too. And in the most innocuous moment, my hero swoops in, dashing and photoshopped in his appearance, and sweeps me off my feet in the most impeccable way. My breath catches in my throat and I am so overcome with passion, that my heart kicks into overdrive and tears of joy well in my eyes. Then we live a wildly free, desire filled life together. The kind where, when we fight, we have debilitating, fantastic make up sex afterward. You know the kind, where you feel more connected to each other afterward. We eat cheesecake in bed because we have nowhere to be, but in each other’s arms with sweet treats.
I grab my phone and do something I can’t fathom. I text Liam. A simple good morning is all I write but it means he now has my phone number. A way to contact me. It is a step toward letting go. Letting go of my control over a situation and giving it the ability to progress naturally. I set my phone down and blow out a breath.
Sometimes, when I open my eyes and look around at reality, a crushing devastation wraps around me. This house I’m in, this mess surrounding me, these clothes I’m wearing, my flat hair, the circles under my eyes—surely they don’t represent my life. There has to be more, right? This can’t be it. And I suck in a deep, shaking breath and remind myself that this is it. This is all there is. Passion and wild abandon exist in novels where readers go to escape. Escape. But each time a book ends, you’re faced with real life again. You have to join back in, live it, and plaster on that attitude that screams, of course, I’m fulfilled! I have everything I require in life. A tear slips from the corner of my eye, reminding me just how human I am.
My phone dings and I snatch it off my nightstand.
Liam.
Morning beautiful, FRIEND
I laugh and toss my phone on the bed. He is unabating but endearing. A part of me is curious. So curious. The other is weary. His eyes are too familiar, too memorable. It is a farcical notion. Many people have green eyes. It means nothing. I am making something out of nothing.
I should not text him back so quickly but I do.
Morning, handsome FRIEND.
I stretch and head downstairs. I’m hungry and need coffee. Before I reach the kitchen, I hear silverware clinking and water running. When I round the corner, Eve’s slender figure appears.
“Oh, thank God,” she says. I give her a quizzical look. “You were in bed when I got home last night. I am dying to hear about your picnic date.” I slide into a chair at the table.
“It wasn’t a date,” I say. Eve hands me a mug of coffee and a sly smile.
“Oh, my bad. What was it then?”
I shrug. “We were just hanging out.”
“Hmm,” she muses, while emptying the dishwasher.
“He did ask for my number.”
“And?” she asks.
“I said, no.” Eve snorts and turns to me. Her mouth opens but I speak first. “I took his.”
“You always take ‘his’,” she says and arches a brow at me.
I stare into the black liquid in my hands. “I texted him this morning.”
Eve’s mouth is agape as she pulls out the chair across from me and sits.
“Seriously?”
I nod. “Seriously.” Her grin is infectious as she grabs my hand.
Liam
She texted me. I was convinced she wouldn’t. In fact I know from her emails with Aubry, that she never gives her number out. I know that she never reaches out to the guys who give her their numbers. But she texted me in under twenty-four hours. She gave me her number. That means something to her.
* * *
I wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm and punch the ‘cool down’ button on the treadmill. Slowing to a walk, I think about all the things I want to do to Nora. I want to play with her. Make her come. Taste her body. Get her so hooked on me, that her thoughts of Holden will become nothing but distant memories. I pull the ripcord and hop off the treadmill. Stripping as I go, a luxury when you have a home gym, I head to the bathroom.
I crank the shower on, wait a moment and step in. Nora Robertson texted me. Grinning like a fool, I lather my body with soap. I fist my cock and pump it slowly at first. I imagine Nora’s rosebud lips. The way they might look as they wrap about my shaft. Those clear eyes staring up at me as I pump into her mouth. I can almost feel her nails claw my ass, pulling me into her mouth deeper. I come in moments. Mildly satisfied, I kill the water and grab my towel.
I step out the front door onto the granite landing. It is another gorgeous day. I unlock the car and slide in. Texting Mara to prepare the final contract for the docks, it takes me under an hour to pull up to the glass building. When I arrive, I have a moment of confusion. I don’t remember the drive. I was lost in a daydream. I want to slip through Nora’s window, peel the blankets from her as she sleeps. Pull her panties down and fuck her until she wakes up. She would wake up, fight me. I’d make her give in. Give up. I kill the engine when I’m in my reserved spot. The building is impressive. My father had some famous architect design it for him. All the floors are rented to various businesses, except the top floor, which is reserved for Lockwood Enterprises. The view is stunning but sometimes even that isn’t enough to make me smile. I have an urge to get out from under my father’s thumb. The problem is, I like the money and I don’t know what I would do instead.
“Morning, Mr. Lockwood,” Mara says.
“Good morning, Mara.” She hands me a coffee and runs down the agenda for the day as
I walk to my office.
“The revised contract is on your desk.” Mara veers off from me to her desk, as I continue into mine. I look over the terms of the deal with the Russians. The docks aren’t worth the millions they are offering but then again, the offer includes the local authority looking the other way so they can use the area the way they like.
I sign the spots required on my end and have Mara schedule a courier to drop the contract to Yuri and Gregor. My best friend, Mike, pings me on chat at eleven.
Lunch?
What were you thinking?
The Black?
I cringe. I’ve seen Candy more than I’ve wanted to already. I thought she could help keep me satisfied or at least keep my desires in check until I make headway with Nora but the last visit left me wanting more. It barely scratched my itch, my need.
I’m Blacked out.
You? Yeah, right.
Seriously. How ‘bout actual lunch?
I guess, man. Pick a place. I’ll see you at noon.
I give the name of the cafe that Nora and I sat and talked at last week. It is not her yoga day, but you never know, perhaps she will be in the area visiting the park.
Mike walks in, slaps my shoulder and plops into the chair opposite me at ten past twelve, wearing a shit-eating grin. Which can only mean one thing; there’s a new woman in his life.
“What’s up, man?” I ask.
“Same shit, different day, except for the new chick I’m banging.”
“I knew it. I know that dumb-ass smirk,” I say.
Mike laughs and slaps the table. “Dude, she is something else. Slamming body, mildly intelligent and up for anything. And I do mean anything,” he says, while raising a brow. I laugh earnestly.
“You gonna keep her around long enough to attend the event with you?” I ask.
