by Ranae Rose
She recited it from memory, and he caught himself filing the fact that she liked Japanese food away for future use.
Hitting call, he attempted to wipe the information from his brain. Her favorite foods were none of his business because he wasn’t romancing her. He told himself that over and over as he remembered the feel of her body leaning against his, curled on the couch.
When the food arrived, they ate together at the kitchen table. There were prints hanging there too, and a couple of them were Jed’s work. He fought to stifle the sense of prideful pleasure that came from knowing she’d been admiring his work in her home all this time. It was foolish, anyway – after all, it was her work, too.
It was their work.
Laying down a pair of bamboo chopsticks, he met her eyes. “It’s starting to get late.” The sky was a dusky purple beyond the kitchen window. “I’m glad to keep you company, but I don’t want to keep you up, either. You have to be exhausted.”
She laid down her chopsticks, too. “I am tired. But I don’t want you to go, Jed. Not unless you need to – or want to.”
“Abby’s closing up the shop tonight. I don’t have anywhere else I need to be.” He never did. Hot Ink was his life. Often, when he was away from the studio, he felt a little like a fish out of water. In Karen’s presence, he felt like a fish caught in a riptide, swimming against a current that threatened to pull him into waters he knew he should avoid.
“Will you stay, Jed – for the night? If you want to, I mean.”
Hell yes, he wanted to. A very selfish, very powerful part of him wanted to. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” When she recoiled, it hurt physically to watch. “Not because I don’t want to,” he said, “because I do want to.”
She looked at him like she didn’t understand, and he couldn’t blame her. “When you spent the other night at my place, it was amazing,” he clarified. “So amazing I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t spend the night with you without thinking of what happened then, and that doesn’t seem right. I want to be here for you, but I don’t want to give my own selfish desires a chance to fuck everything up.”
To his surprise, one corner of her mouth twitched in a quick half-smile. “I don’t expect you to stop thinking of the other night. I haven’t stopped. When I said I wanted you to spend the night, I meant with me – in my bed.”
His chest suddenly felt too tight for his speeding heart. Jesus. “I can’t do that, Karen. You can’t— I mean, after last time…”
He summoned all of his willpower and forced out the truth. “The next morning, I realized how selfish I’d been, bringing you back to my place. After I told you about Alice and saw the way you held back around me – the way you were worried about hurting my feelings – I knew what I’d done was wrong. You deserve to be with someone that’s not like me. Someone you don’t feel the need to tone down your happiness around.”
There, it was all out – having said the words left him feeling as if a crushing weight had been lifted off his chest, leaving a flattened, hollow space in its wake. It was a strange sort of relief, but a relief none the less.
“You’re trying not to hurt my feelings right now.” She shot him a level look across the table.
What was he supposed to say to that?
“I am,” he replied eventually, having decided on undiluted honesty, “but that’s because you’ve just lost someone you loved. The pain is fresh, and I know what it feels like – I don’t want to make it any worse for you. But it’s been five years since I lost Alice. I’ve had time to heal as much as I can, and I am what I am. And you think I’m sad.”
She frowned and stood suddenly, pushing back her chair. “I don’t think you’re sad. I think what happened to you is sad – there’s a difference. I’m sorry if I offended you by trying to be sensitive, but I didn’t know how to act. I can only imagine what it’s like to lose a spouse, Jed. I was just trying to put myself in your shoes. I guess I did a crappy job, but are you really so upset with me that you don’t want to do this anymore?” She waved a hand between them.
“I just think you deserve someone different. You’re only twenty-five, and you’re so full of life. Hell, that’s the first thing people notice about you – how alive you are, how much of yourself you put into everything you do. I just don’t like the idea of being this person that burdens you with my sad history and makes you second-guess yourself.”
“Then we have something in common,” she said in an uncharacteristically even tone.
His heart sank even though he knew he should be glad he’d finally gotten her to see things his way.
“I mean about me putting so much of myself into everything I do,” she continued. “You’re the same way.” She motioned toward the nearest wall. “You’re passionate, Jed. You couldn’t create art like this if you weren’t. I don’t see you as some walking embodiment of tragedy. I see you as you are – as someone with a lot left to give. I want to be the person who…”
She paused and took a deep breath. “I want to be with you, Jed. I wanted you for months before I knew you were a widower, and I still want you just as much as I did then.” She took a step toward him. “More, even, after what happened the other night.”
He remained in his chair, the top of it digging into his vertebrae as he sat, struck dumb. It was hard to think past the whirling storm her words had turned his thoughts into. He struggled for a response, but nothing came to mind. And then she obliterated his concentration when she leaned down, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.
There was so much force in her kiss that her lips would’ve crushed his if they hadn’t been so soft. As it was, they exerted cock-stirring pressure, bringing him to life in a way he couldn’t resist, couldn’t regret. Pulling her into his lap, he kissed her back, slipping his tongue deep into her mouth.
“Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping,” she said when their lips parted minutes later.
He went to her bedroom with her and didn’t have time to so much as glance at the prints hanging on the walls there before they were on the bed, tangled in each other’s arms. The words she’d spoken in the kitchen still rang in his ears, filling his mind with disbelief and his body with a desire so potent that time seemed to stop as he stripped her clothing off of her, revealing all the perfectly milky skin he’d been remembering so vividly for the past two days.
The world started turning again when she slid her hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt and unbuckled his belt, pulling his jeans down and wrapping her hands around his shaft. He sucked in a breath and reached for her.
Before he could make contact, she slipped her other hand into his pushed-down jeans, cradling his balls. That combined with the way she moved her hand up and down, from the base to the head of his dick, was enough to make him swear. Fuck, it had been hard to resist her, hard to tell her he wasn’t right for her. And now here he was, despite his efforts. He didn’t regret it. Not yet.
Finally wrapping his arms around her again, he pulled her close and kissed her hard before pulling off his disheveled clothing and throwing it all aside. Sinking down onto the mattress and lying chest-to-chest with nothing between their skins sent shivers of memory and expectation down his spine. Remembering what they’d done two days ago while anticipating what was about to happen … it was a combination that made his heart speed and his head spin as he kissed her, keeping his lips firmly against hers as he rolled on top of her.
He hadn’t meant to stop there, with his hips between her thighs and his cock pressing up against the slick folds between them. When he’d lowered himself onto her, his head had been filled with vivid notions of sliding down and pushing her legs farther apart with his hands, opening her wide enough that no part of her would be hidden from his mouth. But before he could move a muscle, she reached down and pressed a hand against each of his ass cheeks, curling her fingers and letting her nails bite.
He couldn’t resist her pulling him in, insistent as she tightene
d her grip, breathing a sigh. Not when he could feel the heat and wetness of her pussy against the head of his dick. With a moan, he flexed his hips, pushing past her folds and into the tight embrace of her body.
In one split second, he noticed and reveled in everything – the pulsing hitch her internal muscles gave when he pushed in to the root, the way she gripped him even harder, nails digging into the crease between his ass cheeks and his thighs, making his skin sting, and the way she exhaled against him, her breath warming his shoulder. All of it was enough to push him instantly to the edge, but she was so irresistible that he was torn between the urges to come and to stay inside her forever.
She rolled her hips, pulling back a little and then sending him plunging deep into her. The motion sent the breath rushing out of his lungs and was almost enough to make him lose it completely, too. Instead, he clung to every last scrap of self-control he had and focused on the splay of her hair against the pillow.
There were a dozen different shades of red and brown, and as she moved, they rippled beneath the overhead light, changing. He studied the light and shadow, the brilliant reds, and even thought about how he’d translate the shades and texture into a tattoo. He stopped when he sensed himself pulling back from the edge, back into a state where it was safe to enjoy every blistering second spent inside her body, undistracted.
She kept rocking her hips as he thrust, gripping a fistful of sheet as they moved to the same rhythm. Even their breathing seemed to be in sync – she exhaled hard and fast, as he did, and the sounds of breath and breathlessness blended with the faint banging of the mattress against the headboard. The symphony sent bolts of heat down his spine and into his groin, but he craved more. He thrust harder and faster, until she lost her rhythm and arched beneath him instead, breathing several wordless cries and then his name.
His name. The sound of it on her lips had his balls tight against his body, his dick aching for release inside her. He kept rocking into her, refusing to ease his rhythm until she reached climax. She was close; that was evident in the way she kept arching and squeezed her eyes shut as her lips moved, soundless now.
Seconds later, she shattered the quiet with a cry that went through Jed like an arrow, hitting some feral place inside him. The headboard banged against the wall, loud enough that he was probably damaging the drywall. He didn’t care. He kept going, his hipbones pushing hard into her soft flesh with each stroke as her body pulsed around his cock, tightening with every fierce contraction.
Her pleasure rippled through her body and through his, leaving him feeling briefly as if every fiber of his being had been charged with electricity, left tingling and waiting – aching – for something to shatter. And then his climax hit him with crushing force, sending the air rushing out of his lungs as he thrust balls-deep inside her.
After several moments of blinding bliss, he opened his eyes and gave them time to focus again, bringing her beautiful face back into clear sight. Her cheeks were flushed a vivid shade of pink that had crept down and spread across her chest, and her eyes seemed brighter, too. Withdrawing from between her thighs, he pressed his mouth to hers and let the heat of her lips soften the transition from inside her body to regular existence.
* * * * *
The water was scalding hot. It almost burnt her as it rushed over her body, but she was already red where a deep blush had spread beneath the surface of her skin as she and Jed had made love. She stood under the overhead spray, waiting for the color to fade from her skin and the fog of near-panic to lift from her mind.
The bliss of being tangled up with Jed had dominated her consciousness while they’d been in bed. But it had faded when she’d risen from the twisted sheets, swinging her legs over the edge. By the time her toes had brushed the carpet, a strange weight had slipped onto her shoulders, dispelling the satisfaction. The uncomfortable feeling had nothing to do with Jed – no, it had hit her when a little stuffed dog sitting on top of her dresser had caught her eye.
She’d bought it in the winery gift shop on Saturday, when she’d been there with her grandmother. It was supposed to be a gift for her cousin’s three year old daughter – the kid was going through a puppy-obsession phase, and Karen had picked it up for her on a whim, meaning to mail it to her later. Now, even the memory of the little dog sent something sharp and searing through the center of Karen’s being.
Was this the grief finally hitting her? She braced herself with a hand against the shower wall, her fingertips settling into the grooves between tiles. As she breathed a deep, shuddering breath, the next day’s task of selecting flowers for the funeral service seemed repellant, impossible and more important than ever. How could she do that – how could she make arrangements to bury someone she couldn’t imagine being gone?
Her grandmother seemed to wait around every corner of her mind, until she tried to focus, tried to recall – that was when the realization hit her, sudden and crushing: she wouldn’t see her again. The memories were all she had, last impressions that were bound to fade with time.
She kept forgetting, kept remembering, and it hurt a little more each time, as reality began to drill the unchangeable fact into her forgetful mind.
She didn’t realize she was crying until her eyes stung. Tilting her head back, she let the hot water hit her face, instantly washing the tears away. Better to let them escape now than to have to hold them back in Jed’s presence. How could she cry in front of him when he’d suffered the ultimate loss, the death of a spouse? What she was feeling hurt, but his pain had to have been so much greater.
Most of the hot water was gone by the time a knock sounded at the door.
She jumped a little, her fingers slipping against the slick wall tiles. “Jed?”
The faint screech of door hinges sounded, and through the foggy glass shower panel, she could detect the motion of the door opening a little. Jed’s head showed as a dark spot through the frosty glass. “Are you all right, Karen?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice came out surprisingly, pleasingly steady.
“You’ve been in the shower for a long time. Thought I’d make sure everything’s okay.”
She shut off the tepid water and took a moment to smooth her expression before sliding the shower door open. “Thanks. But I’m okay.”
Jed’s eyes went wide as she revealed herself, stepping out onto the bathmat. For several silent moments, he stared, dark eyes shining with apparent concern … and something more.
She reached for a towel hanging on a nearby hook and wrapped it around her body.
His gaze continued to linger, now on her shoulders. “You sure? If I did something to upset you, you can tell me. Or if it’s about what you’re going through, you know you can talk to me, right?” He seemed earnest as he stood in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame, and Karen’s heart did a cartwheel as she met his eyes.
“I guess I’m just now starting to realize what gone means. But Jed… I don’t feel right talking to you about it. Not when you’ve been through so much worse.” Her pain was real, but the prospect of baring her heart to Jed made her feel somehow selfish. After all, she’d never expected to outlive her grandmother; however much she’d enjoyed Helen’s company, she’d always known that this day would come eventually.
Jed, on the other hand, had lost the person he’d sworn to spend the rest of his life with.
He didn’t say so, but it had to hurt him to witness her sadness, to try to comfort her. Didn’t it?
* * * * *
Jed’s heart fractured as he stood across from Karen, watching water streak down her face and over the graceful lines of her collarbones, eventually dampening the towel she’d wrapped tight around her body. Maybe she thought he didn’t realize she’d been crying, but the redness and slight puffiness around the edges of her eyes had betrayed her to him as soon as she’d stepped out of the shower. Even now, he noticed a tear slipping from one corner of her eye; the beads of liquid dripping from her sopping hair didn’t hide it.
“Talk to me, Karen. I can handle it. I wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t.”
It was a lie. In that moment, he’d have done anything for her, even if it would’ve meant agony for him. But it wouldn’t; in fact, a part of him sensed that if he could help her make sense of her own grief, it might give his some kind of meaning. And that would be a comfort, however small.
She made the slightest movement, as if she meant to step off the bathmat and come to him. Her shoulders went rigid as she stopped herself, and a dent appeared in her lower lip.
He went to her instead, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. Her body was soft beneath the scant cover of the towel, and it conformed to his as he embraced her. He held her tight, even tighter than he’d meant to as the memory of her picking up the red teapot in his kitchen played inside his head, crystal-clear.
One of the reasons why the sight of her holding the teapot had unsettled him had been because the object – the physical token of his grief – had seemed so out of place in her hands. There was a certain kind of innocence about her; she projected an air of passion, the sort of fearless zeal for life that could only exist in someone whose world had never been turned upside down by life’s unfairness. It grated to see that innocence tainted, to think of her spending the night in the hospital, the only family member there to watch someone she loved die.
He’d only pulled on his jeans, no shirt. Something hot and wet dampened his shoulder – hotter than the lukewarm water that soaked her hair. At least he’d convinced her she could cry in front of him. It was a double-edged sword, sending relief and bitter sympathy slicing through him. “You two were close, weren’t you?” Mina had said so.
Karen nodded, raising her head and meeting his gaze for a second before looking down again. “I was closer to my grandmother than my own mother, honestly. Plus, my parents live in Scranton, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. We spent a lot of time together. She wasn’t your average grandmother.”
