Love Untouched (Unexpected)

by Anne Leigh

  Something was wrong with Kieran. I didn’t know for sure, but I had this grave, dreadful sense of premonition that he was purposely avoiding my gaze.

  Ava offered to drive me back to my place since we drove together, but Milo insisted on dropping me off. He had driven to the restaurant alone so it was just the two of us in the car.

  During the drive, he asked, “What’s wrong, Bee?”

  I wondered aloud, “Why? What do you mean?”

  “You’re not yourself tonight,” he stated, while putting on the brakes to stop when the brake lights of the car in front of us flashed.

  “Just work.” I sighed. “We’re just busy.”

  He considered my response for a few minutes before saying, “You know I’m here for you Bee. Anytime you wanna talk, I’m here.” His deep voice, my source of calm during the roughest times in my younger years, now filled me with apprehension. What was in my head and what was slowly filling my heart was the image of a dark-blond, brown-eyed guy who made me feel things I’ve never felt before. How unlucky could I get, because he was the one person my brother would commit murder against if he ever found out?

  After Milo dropped me off, I texted Kieran again. Still no response.

  That night, I went to sleep missing him, wishing that our situation were different. My pillowcase became soaked with the tears that ran down my face uncontrollably. I knew I had to make a choice. One of these days, I would have to face my biggest fear. Who would I give up? At this moment, Milo and Kieran could not co-exist in my life without one of them getting hurt, by me.

  Kieran had a copy of my work schedule so he was aware that I was off today. I figured that he needed to spend time with his friends, so I stopped myself from texting him and waiting for his text, every minute of the day.

  When the next morning came, I still hadn’t received any calls or texts from him. I spent the rest of the morning baking to relieve the tension in my chest. When Milo stopped by around noon, he hugged me, as if he sensed that I was going through something. He took two of the chocolate marble cakes, and the banana bread loaf that I had just pulled out of the oven.

  “I wish I could pick you up at night, Bee.” Concern lined his speech. His training ran late because he had to share the pool with other swimmers and by the time he finished cool-down, it was close to midnight.

  “I’m a grown woman Milo,” I replied. “I can take care of myself now. I am not a little girl anymore. I’ve been watching out for myself for many years, and I’m fine.” It has been a long time coming but he needed to understand this. I have been saying this for how long now but he refused to listen.

  “Where’s this coming from?” His question hung around like worm bait on a fishing hook. This was my chance to tell him.

  “Someday I will make decisions for myself and you’re not going to like them,” I started. His dark brows furrowed and his mouth hung open like he was about to say something. I gestured with my right palm, holding it up and out facing him, to stop him from interrupting me. He closed his mouth and folded his arms across his chest. “I love you Milo. I always will. You’re my brother. The best brother. But, you have to respect the decisions I make. My happiness might not make you happy, but I hope one day you understand my decisions are ones I feel are best for me.”

  He was silent as his right jaw muscle started ticking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Take a deep breath,” I instructed. I foresaw his temper spilling over again. Milo became a caged warrior when he felt that something was going to threaten his peace, my peace. He took a long, deep breath as I continued, calmly, “I’m just saying you have to respect my choices whether you like them or not.” Before he could say another word, I hugged him. I caught a glimpse of the black Celtic knot tattoo that formed a circle around his right bicep, symbolizing interconnectedness. The letters MBATW inked in a dark blue shade, clearly visible under the light. I had a matching tattoo around my right ankle. The meaning of the ink etched into our skin was just another reminder of how strong our bond was. When everyone else left us, it was, and always has been, ‘Milo and Brynn Against The World’.

  I worked my eight-hour shift with a heavy heart. I missed Kieran. He still hadn’t texted or called. My co-workers asked if something was wrong with me today. They said I looked “sullen” and “dejected’. I simply told them I was just tired. Tired from waiting for Kieran’s texts or calls. Was he avoiding me?

  When my shift ended, my body was ready to call it a night. I barely had the energy to walk to my car. Maybe I should listen to Kieran. I should park somewhere closer. My thoughts drifted to Kieran. Again. For some reason, he was shutting me out.

  After checking my phone for the hundredth time, I gave up hope that Kieran was going to call me today. Just as I was about to click on the unlock button on my car key, I lifted my eyes to survey my surroundings as a safety precaution. Being careful never hurts.

  My heart leaped when I saw a familiar silver Range Rover parked behind my car.

  Kieran was standing in front of the hood of his car. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals. Even in the dark I saw the tension in his shoulders, his posture was not relaxed; he was not the carefree Kieran I was used to.

  I took the last few steps and stopped in front of him. I was hesitant to reach out. Suddenly, he yanked me by my waist, slamming my body into his. My purse jiggled heavily on my right shoulder. Before I had any time to react, he was opening my mouth with his and kissing me hungrily, no finesse, just exerting his power over me. I opened my mouth to say something but he suckled on my tongue, and his hands forcefully pulled the lower half of my body closer to his, my thin scrubs grating and chafing against my skin.

  This was not like his other kisses. This time, he was demanding, rough, and almost seemed desperate. It was as if he was punishing himself. Or, punishing me?

  When he finally let go of my lips that were feeling slightly raw and sore, he asked, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  I kissed his lips, saying, “Yes.”

  We reached his place in record time. Kieran drove—no, he raced—while I followed his lead. As soon as he locked the door, he stripped me of my clothes and underwear, and without wasting any time, he wrapped himself with a condom, picked me up, and entered me without ceremony. I was already wet for him so he slid into me easily. He carried me to the couch, my legs crisscrossed around his thighs and his jeans not completely off, causing him to walk awkwardly until finally, he sat us both down. I was on top of him, my nipples taut from his unyielding mouth, and my hips rocked to a beat that he was demanding of me. He pulled on my hair until it loosened from the hair tie I wore for work, and then gathered my hair into one hand while his other hand gripped my waist. This was not gentle sex. This was rough, primal, needy, head-spinning, body-bruising type of sex, but it was what he needed right now. I gave it to him. Offering myself, letting him take what he needed from me and riding it out because I wanted to be the one to give him what he wanted, what he needed. All the time. My eyes tingled with a slow burn from the realization that was dawning inside my body... and my heart. I would give him everything, anything, because I needed him to want me, to need me, to love me the way I loved him.

  He rested his forehead on my left shoulder a few minutes after his climax and I reached my peak. He molded his hands around my face, and his deep, brown eyes looked apologetic. “Was I too rough?”

  I slowly nodded my head. He looked wounded and tired as he muttered, “I’m so sorry.”

  I brushed my hand over the light stubble across his jaw. “Was that what you needed?”

  “I tried Brynn,” he responded, evading my question.

  “Tried what?”

  His eyes flickered between my eyes and my lips. An unwelcome silence passed, and then he pulled me into a hug so tight, my lungs constricted from the pressure. His voice vibrated through my body. “I tried to stop wanting to see you. I tried to stop thinking about you, to make myself not want you. I couldn’t...
I just couldn’t.”

  Rivulets of tears ran down my cheeks and fell down the back of his shoulder. He loosened his hug and turned my face towards his.

  “Honey I am so sorry if I hurt you tonight. For being so rough with you. For making you cry.”

  I put two of my fingers to his lips. “I’m not crying because of that. You didn’t hurt me. If you need me like that, you don’t have to ask. I’m here for you. Any way you want me.” The tears continued to flow.

  “Why are you crying then?” He asked in a gentle voice, as he rolled my teardrops away with his fingertips.

  “Because of what you said, that you wanted to stop seeing me.” The air felt stuffy, I had a hard time catching my breath.

  “I couldn’t Brynn,” he told me, repeating his words from earlier. “I said I couldn’t. I thought I could, but you’ve become so important to me that I…,” he paused, his eyes mirroring the war of emotions he was trying to contain inside. “I really like you and I just can’t give you up.”

  He folded his hands around my arms, gently stroking. For a moment, I forgot that he was still inside me, the seriousness of our conversation weighing heavily on me, but I felt him get harder, growing bigger inside of me.

  “Give me time Kieran.” I asked, knowing that he knew what I meant, that I was talking about Milo.

  His eyes shifted uneasily, the hardness inside me suddenly fading away. His back straightened, and his shoulders stiffened. “If I give you time, will you choose me?”

  The impact of his question hit me like a tornado swooping down on its target, whipping me into a tailspin. The force so great that it took me a minute or two to answer his question. His demeanor revealing his anticipation that my answer would doom us.

  “Kieran I’m here with you, aren’t I?” I replied, my voice unwavering. His mouth landed on mine before I even finished talking. I loved Kieran. With one hundred percent certainty. I could not give him up. I didn’t want to give him up.

  “I wish to have a pool in my backyard.”

  ~P.D., age 8, Duchenne’s muscular dystrophy

  Knock, knock.

  My legs were propped up against the side of the couch; unopened packages were all around me—on the floor, on the coffee table, on the couch. Everywhere. Man, I needed to fix this before Brynn got here. She had texted me an hour ago saying she was doing some shopping with Ava. Knowing Brynn, she would just walk into a home store or a baking store and call it “shopping.” I have gone with her shopping, and whew! She could spend a whole day comparing one pan to the other, or one baking sheet to another, and browsing through tons of cookbooks. I would complain, but I couldn’t because her sparkling eyes and enthusiasm just got to me. I just always ended up kissing her while she showed me some sort of weird-looking cutlery or gadget. Brynn was the type of woman who made Rachel Ray and her cronies rich. For me, a pot was a pot. Who cared if it was aluminum cookware, coated inside with stainless steel, non-stick, or porcelain enamel? Apparently, Brynn did. It made her happy. So, I stayed. For two hours, almost every other week, we visited those baking and cooking stores. If you asked me what a starter baking set should have, I could now tell you with a straight face that it included a cookie sheet, a loaf pan, a rectangular cake pan, a plastic lid for the cake pan, and a muffin pan. The reward for that bit of information? A night of hot sex with Brynn. I was pretty sure that if Duncan and Peter heard about my newly founded knowledge of all things baking, I would be at the receiving end of incessant jokes and teasing. Who cared? Brynn was the best cook and baker in town. She could make plain bread taste good just because she made it. Thoughts of Brynn’s exemplary culinary skills were interrupted by the loud knocking.

  I stood up and opened the door.

  Brynn.

  Little white liar. I thought she was with Ava?

  She gave me a dimpled smile, her eyes were light blue in color at that moment, and her cheeks flushed pink. She prodded, “Well, are you going to help me or what?” Brynn’s face always mesmerized me. It was the first thing I wanted to look at in the morning. One morning, she mischievously took a photo of herself with my phone and made it my screensaver. I have not replaced it since.

  I looked down to where she was pointing and saw the bags of groceries that she had set by her legs.

  I lifted all three bags, and even took the small one that she was holding, and leaned forward to kiss her. She gave me a quick kiss and sidestepped me to walk inside.

  Hmm. No passionate kisses today?

  “Kieran the ice cream’s going to melt. Can you please put it inside the freezer?”

  Okay, that’s why there was no passionate kiss. She bought ice cream and that was her priority.

  She looked at me for a few seconds and guessed what I was thinking. “Oh, come on. I’ll give you plenty of kisses later.” She knew me so well.

  I stepped closer to her, put the grocery bags on the floor, circled her waist with my hands, and touched my lips to hers.

  Her breath hitched and her eyes darkened with desire. “Kieran, the ice cream...”

  “Can wait,” I replied, my tongue stroking her lower lip.

  She murmured against my kiss, “Strwwbry.” Was she saying strawberry?

  I let her mouth go for a second. “Strawberry cheesecake.”

  Oh, dang.

  She wiggled her eyebrows at me, walked to the cupboards, and started taking out baking ingredients that she had been keeping stocked at my place. I took out the grocery items from the bags and started putting them inside the refrigerator. For the past few months, Brynn and I have settled into a routine of buying groceries together. Since Milo frequented her place, whatever we bought was stored at my apartment.

  “Yes, I’m making strawberry cheesecake today.” Her eyes flitted to the living room and she gasped, “Kieran what happened? Why all the mess?”

  I scanned the living room, and yes, it looked like a storm had passed in here with all the boxes, catalogs, and gear scattered on every surface. “Oh yeah. I’m looking at the new swim gear so I can use it and have my trainers evaluate if it affects my performance.”

  Her brows bunched up and her lips pursed, she asked, “All of that? That’s a lot of gear. Even Milo doesn’t get that much.” She should know. Her brother constantly received new suits and equipment from his sponsors, too.

  I rested my face on my hand as I leaned over the counter of the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m also signing some stuff for the kids.”

  She stopped stirring the mixture that she was preparing in a bowl and looked at me. “What kids?”

  “Hmm... kids.” I replied, a bit evasively.

  She stomped her right foot. The act was so cute, so Brynn. “What kids Kieran?”

  “I sign shirts and sports items that my agent sends to children all around the country,” I explained, my eyes drifting to all the unpacked gear in the living room. I needed to finish signing them before the end of the week so Evans will have time to pick them up and have them delivered.

  “Is this part of your contract?” she asked, curiosity evident in her eyes.

  “No. I do this because I want to,” I added, shifting my weight from one leg to the other as I stood, halfway leaning into the island.

  Her mouth was agape. “You mean no one knows you do these things? Not even the press?”

  Looking right at her, I replied, “No one can make me do things I don’t want, Brynn. I do these things because I want to. My agent takes care of all the details. It’s the least I can do for the fans that I have, especially children who send me cards telling me I’m their hero. I’m nobody’s hero. I am fortunate that I do what I love and I’m successful at it.” Brynn stepped closer to me. She set the mixing bowl on the side of the counter, and without prelude, she grabbed my head and kissed me. Underwater, I could hold my breath for four minutes and thirty-five seconds without any difficulty. When Brynn kissed me, I found myself gasping, needing air, needing oxygen to fill up my lungs.

  Her fingers roamed
around my lips, and one of her hands was in my hair. Her eyes shining with appreciation and wonder at the same time, she declared, “You’re a good man Kieran Stone.”

  I was about to say dissuade her logic, because it really was not a big deal, but she hushed me and said, “I’m also making your favorite fudge pecan brownies today.”

  With her dark blue eyes in a teasing glance, her cheeks pink and aglow with arousal, and her lips reddened and plump from our passionate kiss, she had never looked more beautiful to me. Just then, I knew, without a doubt, she was the woman who made me come up for air.

  “I’d like to go on a European cruise.”

  ~H.V., age 19, autoimmune disorder

  “Why do you want to be number one in the world Kieran?” I asked as I ran my hands across his naked chest. We were in a cuddly mood since having pigged out on the Chinese food that Kieran ordered after asking me to spend the night with him. I worked half a shift today when I was supposed to be off because we were short staffed. He was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t spend the whole day with him, especially since it was a weekend. I tried to butter him up by letting him know that I’d bake him anything he wanted for the week.

  His arms were propped under his head and his brown eyes flickered a bit, before he replied, “So I can prove to myself that I can do it.”

  “Be number one? You already have enough medals to rival that Australian legend,” I reiterated. Kieran has accumulated tons of medals and awards throughout the years. I saw and touched all of them when we visited his parents’ house. They were showcased in his parents’ library.

  He removed his left arm from under his head and with his fingers, he stroked my chin. “Yeah, but I want the gold,” he whispered, and then continued, “When I swim, I lose myself in the water. I’ve always felt this way. It’s like I’m competing against the ebb and rise, the force of the water. How fast can I out swim it before the next swish comes in? I live for the rush of going under and coming out from a swim, knowing that somehow I beat my own time, my own self.”