by Kara Liane
I hand him a glass of water, and he gratefully gulps it down. I tell him how proud I am of him; his dazzling return smile fills my soul—God, he looks like his father. When William was younger, he was so handsome. The drinking took its toll even in his late twenties, and when his forties hit, he looked like an old man. I shake my head to forget, reminding myself that William did give me the greatest gift by helping to create this beautiful young man.
Another thought assails me. It will be difficult for me to send Kurt off into the military—if it’s his dream, I’ll find a way to do it, though. At least Brent has a couple more years to help Kurt prepare if this is what he wants to do.
I remind my son to talk to Tech Sergeant Jefferson tonight to get another enlisted member’s perspective, and he agrees with my suggestion. And I make a mental note to finally explore getting him into ROTC or Civil Air Patrol—Brent had mentioned to me not too long ago that these programs are great for grooming potential armed forces members. We had so much going on with the funeral at the time, but now I will make it a priority.
“You look happy, Mom. I think Caleb’s an okay dude,” he says, half-grinning at me.
“Is that so? He’s just okay?” I tease.
“Yeah, he’s cool. Well, I better get back to it. We requested the chicken dance…again. Em seems to like it.” He laughs and puts the glass down. I get a quick “bye,” and he races off.
The kids haven’t said much about Caleb, and I’m not pushing them. I’m procrastinating on broaching the subject on my end, putting off the inevitable conversation. It’s cowardly, but I’m hoping the more time they spend with Caleb, and the more they see us together, they’ll see what a developing relationship looks like. William and I were not good role models for what love and happiness between a couple should represent. I have to fix that.
There will be time later…much later, to have that talk with my kiddos.
I look at how Brent and Everly are in their little happy, blissful bubble, staring at one another in the center of the dance floor. They’re not really even dancing, just holding one another tenderly. I immediately seek Caleb out. I scan the room but don’t see him anywhere.
As I’m sitting in my chair at the head table, I sense someone standing behind me off to my left. A finger then lightly trails across my shoulders. Then that same finger makes a swirling pattern on the nape of my neck. I roll my head to the side, savoring the sensations. Of course, I can’t rightly say I’m acquainted with Caleb’s touch because we haven’t ventured down that path, but I know it’s him doing this to me. It’s one of those things you know in your marrow. It’s your lover’s—or in my case, soon-to-be lover’s—touch. It’s much like how I felt him behind me earlier when we were outside. We’re equally drawn to one another.
It’s getting easier to admit things to myself. Our passion is like that of a good book. The beginning pulls you right in and holds you hostage. The middle keeps you wanting more as each new twist and turn unfolds. Hell, I’ll dog-ear or bookmark my favorite parts along the way too…but that would mean the whole book would be marked-up, because each page of our passion is too incredible not to be considered my favorite. And the end…well, there’s no end in sight because this is something infinite.
I feel his breath on my ear as he leans in, and it sends tingles everywhere. Goose pimples line my body, and I shiver. He whispers that one word I have come to love so much.
“Sweetness,” he groans.
That word is not a question, it’s an answer. It’s also a solution. I know what he wants and needs. I know he won’t ask or take; he’s too respectful and too afraid to hurt me. He rests his hands lightly on each of my shoulders now, and I cross my right arm over my chest to pat the hand on my left shoulder.
“Dance with me?” I plead.
I say it so quietly, I’m not even sure he can hear me. He must, though, because his hand clutches mine and helps me up from my chair. We’re about to make what is going on between us public. My kids are about to witness two people falling for each other so completely and deeply right before their very eyes. I shouldn’t be naïve because I’m sure they already know, but it’s nice to live in a little world of naivety—it’s a safe world to be in. All three of my kids are very intuitive. Leah knows me like I know myself. I have to ask them how they feel about all this. And I’ll be sure to do that well before Caleb and I ever become something official.
He gently pulls me along to the dance floor, and my heart is pounding in my chest. Our clasped-together hands are so sweaty, I’m surprised we have a grip on one another. This is it! It’s the culmination of all my hopes and dreams. They will be on display for everyone to see. I’m sure you can witness in my eyes and see it written on my face how I feel about this man.
Does he know, though? Does he realize what he means to me?
He guides me at the small of my back until we reach the middle of the floor, then poses my body so I’m standing before him. I look down and gulp because of my jitters. With his pointer finger in a hook position, he uses the knuckle part of his finger to lift my chin so I can meet his gaze. Mmm, he has the most dazzling smile. It’s one of those mega-watt grins that could blind you because it’s too beautiful to even look at.
I feel so small standing in front of him, like he towers over me in the most delicious way. A big, strong, commanding, and drop-dead gorgeous man is so hard to come by. And he manages to make me feel so delicate, feminine, sexy, and wanted when he looks at me the way he does. I crave his scent as much as I crave his touch. I bite my lip because I want to taste every part of him. If I move my hand from his chest and work my way down, I can try to discreetly cup him through his slacks—that’s too soon and too naughty, however. Instead, I curl my hands up and tell myself no! I will do my best to save that maneuver for when we’re in private.
I always melt at the sight of his features. To think a man like him could want a woman like me sends my heart and body into overdrive. He helps me wrap one arm around his neck. Then, he grabs my waist with his one hand and holds our other free hands to his chest, as we move back and forth in a sensual embrace to the slow song. The tune playing is one I will remember forever.
I recognize her sultry style from one of the seasons of American Idol. And who could forget that delightful gum commercial in which her rendition of the song was featured? I adore Haley Reinhart. As Caleb and I sway to “Can’t Helping Falling in Love,” I can’t think of a more fitting song for us.
I can picture a wedding in my future. I can picture our friends and family gathered around us like we are right now. I can picture these very things because they can be a reality. Caleb and the kids and I can be a family…one day. I hear him softly clear his throat as if he’s caught up by the emotions as much as I am.
“Liz, I...,” he starts, then pauses a moment, not finishing the sentence or completing the words I didn’t want to hear before today. But now, well, now I so desperately want them, I could cry.
He tries again, “Liz, I’m crazy about you. You must know that by now. Each second we spend together is like magic. You’re perfection.”
My throat catches, and I can’t find my voice. See, this is where I’m conflicted. The part about perfection scares me. He has me on a pedestal. This isn’t a confidence issue; it’s more of an issue pertaining to him not realizing there’s no such thing as perfect—no one gets that distinction. God, I’m fearful I can’t live up to this image he built of me in his head.
I’m holding on to his back and grip the fabric harshly, trying to get his attention. I need for him to really hear me and understand the place where I’m coming from.
“Caleb, no one is perfect. I’m certainly not anywhere close to that. I think you’ve misconstrued your feelings if you think that; I’m sorry to say,” I produce a whimper as thick tears are forming—my thoughts centering on the prospect that I may lose him.
I feel like I’m being a silly bitch. I’m probably insulting him and making an ass of myself, but this needs to be said. I ha
ve to set the record straight before we get any deeper in the waters.
“I haven’t misconstrued the situation or my feelings. And I have no misconceptions as to who you are. And who you are is exquisite! Liz, I realize perfection doesn’t exist, but it does exist for me. Sweetness, you don’t have to be perfect to the world; just be you, and that’s the perfect for me. You. Are. My. Perfection,” he explains and stops us from moving so I’m forced to look at him.
How does he allay my worries and fears so quickly?
It’s like he has a power over me that I cannot understand. He soothes me unlike any person has ever done before.
I breathe out, “You’re my perfection too!”
And then I realize this is the moment. This will be our first official kiss. Everything is moving in slow motion. As the song comes to an end, our lips meet. It’s the lightest touch, and if I wasn’t so hyperaware, I’d miss it if my eyes were closed. But they’re wide open and taking in everything going on around me. It’s a sweet and tender kiss. Closed-mouthed and perfect—there ya go, I’ll use his word.
And then suddenly, it transforms. In an instant, it becomes frenzied and explosive as his tongue slides inside. Thank God he moved his hands to cradle me to him because I go weak in the knees for this man once again. My hands go into his hair. If there are onlookers, I don’t care. If my kids are watching, well, I can’t dwell on it. I have to seize the moment and do what feels right. I’ve always put everyone before myself and my needs. And to me, what I’m doing right now isn’t even considered selfish. I owe it to myself and Caleb to let myself go.
I could kiss this man all night. Hell, I don’t ever want to not be kissing him. Maybe we can be permanently locked together—I’ll find an iron worker to solder us. Nothing has ever felt so good and so right. His tongue is silky and warm. He kisses like a dream. I ache so badly for him. I may end up throwing him down to the floor and having my way with him, and that uninhibited and inappropriate behavior is so not me. I’m desperate to climb on top of him and sink down upon every hard inch of male flesh. He has to know what he does to me. I have to tell him.
I reluctantly pull away, but it’s necessary. I need to breathe, or I’ll pass out. As we break apart, we’re gasping for breath. He moves his lips to my neck and plants soft kisses below my ear. I tug him down to me so I can say something seductive in his ear.
“Let’s make perfection together,” I purr in a tempting tone.
I was aiming for something a little more scandalous—maybe I should’ve said “perfucktion” instead.
Well, whatever, I figured he’d get my meaning either way. His nostrils flare, and his eyes widen. I hear his intake of breath and the agonized sound that escapes him. He doesn’t reply, though. He grabs my hand, and whereas before he led me slowly to the dance floor, now he’s pulling me along like a balloon on a string.
Apparently his patience has snapped. I’m trailing behind and trying to keep up. I’m sure he looks like a barbarian moving through the crowd. To outsiders, this looks wrong. But to close friends, surely they know what it is: a man on a mission to claim what is his. And tonight I will be claimed!
Chapter 15: Table the Idea
Liezel
I can’t imagine Caleb has ever been here to visit Ev’s workplace either. So, for someone unfamiliar with his surroundings, it sure seems like he has a clear direction in mind despite the condition he’s in. I swear, it’s like men are outfitted with an internal compass of some sort, or at least they act confident about it until they figure it out—I’ve always considered it an inborn kind of thing.
Caleb finally brings me to a bank of elevators and pushes the up arrow button. The elevator car must have already been on our floor because it chimes and opens immediately. I’m thrust inside and before the doors can even close, he’s on me. I can’t think. I can’t speak. I only feel. I slightly register the fact that he hit a button for a random floor.
A part of me is realizing it’s slightly wrong to take advantage of Stuart’s generosity by using his building for some debauchery, but I shove those qualms out of my mind. Caleb has me pinned to the wall. The metal railing is in my lower back, and I grip each side of the bar with my hands, causing my pelvis to angle forward—right where our bodies line up with our most intimate parts.
His hands are in my hair, pulling my head to him so he can delve into my mouth like a starved man. We’re fused together. I’m drenched between my legs and needy. He’s grinding against me so roughly, but not in a painful way. Let’s just say I won’t be surprised if he wears a hole through his clothing to get to me. He finally releases my mouth and moves down to my neck to suck at the soft skin near my collarbone.
My breasts are begging for attention. I need him to suck and bite my nipples, or I’ll explode with frustration. His cock is rock hard against my pubic bone, and I want to jump in his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. However, I don’t do any of these things because the elevator chimes too quickly, stopping at whatever floor he picked.
When the doors open again, I’m being rushed down the hall into some type of conference room in the left corridor. The lights are off, but the glass panels in the hallway illuminate the area. The table in the center of the meeting room is huge and can accommodate at least twenty people given the chairs all around. The enormous shiny brown desk is like an altar. Will there be a virginal sacrifice tonight? It sure feels like it since it’s been so damn long since I’ve done anything with a partner.
Caleb shuts the door without locking it. He doesn’t draw the blinds to the hallway—if he did, there’d be no light unless he actually flicked the switch. I have to admit there’s a certain level of excitement knowing someone could stumble upon us. Granted, I imagine no one should be up here—or would have a need to come up here—but ya never know. It’s thrilling being with this man. The spontaneity of the situation heightens my excitement.
He takes off his suit jacket and lays it on the table. I’m standing a few inches from the closed door, unable to move until he instructs me. It’s unnerving that he still hasn’t said anything. I’m breathing deeply, trying to calm myself and mentally prepare for what we’re about to do.
“How long’s it been, sweetness?” He asks.
At first I’m kind of confused and contort my face to match my state of bewilderment. Then it dawns on me. Now I’m mortified!
***
Caleb
Ah shit!
I didn’t mean to embarrass her. Well, now I’ve gone and fucked myself—and that may very well be my fate after what I just asked her. But I have to know the answer. If it’s been years—which I suspect to be the case—then I can’t be a prick and storm the gates. Instead, I have to ride up to the gate, let the drawbridge down, and proceed at a trot with my valiant steed.
She’s wringing her hands in front of her, toiling over how to answer me. I see her swallow hard and can practically feel that lump hit her stomach.
“It’s been…,” she begins, then looks away.
I will give her time to think, but I need to know. She shouldn’t be embarrassed around me, but I can appreciate her reluctance to respond. I don’t want her to ever feel an ounce of discomfort or uneasiness around me. There will be no secrets between us. I will know everything. Or we simply can’t work!
“It’s been about twelve years,” she admits ashamedly and proceeds to look at the floor.
“Fuck!” I exclaim.
I immediately regret saying that word. I realize she’s going to misunderstand. It’s not that I can’t be patient or go slow. And it’s not that I’m disappointed. If anything, I’m ironically relieved. That asshole never knew how to treat her. It’s like I get to introduce her to everything as if it’s the first time.
“I’m sorry. This is so awkward. I should’ve told you, I guess. It’s so humiliating knowing I was married for as long as I was and never had that kind of a relationship after the kids were born. He was more interested in the bottle than in me. That was truly his
first and only love in life. I wouldn’t even say I was secondary,” she groans and seems disgusted with herself.
After a beat, she picks up by saying, “I’m sure you’re used to more experienced women. William was my first and only since we dated for years before getting pregnant and then married. Jesus, I practically feel like a virgin again,” she admits.
Then, she puts her hands to her cheeks and closes her eyes. I can see that a red hue has kissed her skin because of her shame. She shouldn’t feel ashamed. Am I a sick bastard that I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been? Probably!
I can’t let her stand there and be overwhelmed by guilt, or embarrassment, or whatever is bothering her. I move in and lift her up. She yelps in surprise. I set her down on the table by placing her ass right where I put my jacket so she won’t be cold—I knew when her naked flesh touched the surface it would be a jolt. I try to think of everything.
She goes to speak, and I hold up my finger to her mouth, successfully shushing her. I kiss her plump lips to take the sting away of me silencing her. Oh, she can be as noisy as she wants, but there will be no more talk about worries or fears in this room.
“I told you, you’re perfect. You’re still perfect. I only asked because I don’t want to hurt you…emotionally or physically. It’s like you’ve been waiting for me. That probably sounds cheesy, but hey, I’m a cheesy guy. And now, thanks to you, I consider myself more of a cookie guy,” I try and add a little humor to lighten the mood, grinning at her mischievously.
She smiles brightly, and it’s what I wanted to see. She balances my world with one look. God, how I love her! I cup her face with my big hands and run the pads of my thumbs in soothing circles on her cheeks.
Her soft-scented lilac fragrance fills my soul as I breathe her in. I finally determined exactly what her floral scent is. When I was at the florist shop, I honed in on that amazing smell. Kate then imparted her extensive knowledge on the purple flower. I have to agree that the blooms are breathtaking in person, smell divine, and immediately elicit a sense of calm and splendor—that’s my sweetness to a T! I now have vases full of lilacs sitting in my office and in my apartment. I need to be surrounded by a substitute until I have the real thing with me all the time.
