I still didn’t know how to respond. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Every time you apologize for being you, for taking up space, I cringe, because no one should do that, but especially not you. I want to beat the shit out your ex-husband for making you think that was necessary. For making you afraid to be alone in your own apartment on a Saturday afternoon.”
How did he do that? Crawl inside my head and know exactly what to say, but at the same time be so clueless about other things, like that it was a bad idea to lie to Dustin about leaving Aces.
My phone rang, shattering the strange mood in the room. I glanced at the screen. “It’s Graham.” I pressed Answer. “Hey,” I greeted my brother.
“I was in a movie. Are you okay?”
The conversation with Phillip was odd, but sitting next to him, his arm and thigh pressed against me, I felt safe. “I freaked out a little, but I’m better now.”
“A little?” Graham chuckled. “You called each of us at least three times.”
Right. “It’s dumb, but I couldn’t shake the feeling Sean was out there.”
“That’s not dumb. Not after what he’s been pulling,” Graham said. “I don’t want you staying there tonight.”
Me neither.
“I’ve got it covered,” Phillip said.
Could he hear the conversation? Possibly. He was sitting pretty close.
“Sounds good.” Graham’s response implied he heard Phillip as well. “I’ll keep my phone nearby if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” I disconnected, not knowing how to feel about the exchange. Some guy basically told my brother I was sleeping over. Sure, I was in my thirties, and it was a little late in life for that kind of propriety, but until Graham found Luna and Cole, we barely talked about relationships in our family, let alone alluded to there being a physical aspect.
Unless I counted the number of times my parents asked me when I was going to find a nice man and give them grandbabies.
“Pack a bag.” Phillip interrupted the thought. “You’re staying at my place until we get this figured out.”
We? My frustration welled. “I won’t let Sean push me out of my apartment. The place I had to get because he forced me out my house. I’m tired of him, of anyone else, determining the direction of my life.” Except I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t feel safe here.
“You’re not staying here or alone tonight.” Phillip stood and tugged me to my feet. “This isn’t permanent but I need you safe.”
The sudden movement stole my balance and I landed with my face inches from his. My breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. He had such gorgeous eyes—brown with flecks of gold and grief.
He brushed a thumb along my cheekbone. “You’ll figure this out—we will. If you need a sounding board. Anything. We’ll stay here, if you prefer. Tell me where you feel safest.”
“Not here.”
I need you safe, the words echoed in my head as I grabbed a couple of days’ worth of clothes, and toiletries, and shoved it all in a bag.
When did I lose control of my life? Or had I ever really had it?
Twenty-Six
Phillip
Having someone else in my house, knowing she was staying longer than a few hours, didn’t feel like the intrusion I expected. Then again, neither did having Adrienne here the other night.
It wasn’t just the sex, it was the company—the movie marathon that brought us here last week, the late night chat by the pool… Really everything about her had me captivated.
It would be weird if Dustin was never here again, though. I was okay with the idea a couple of months ago, when I made the decision to leave Aces. I needed to get back to that place, but every time I tried, I remembered how right it felt to spend time with Dustin. How much I enjoyed his company. How it was instinct for me to do whatever he asked whenever he wanted, and how he did the same for me.
I showed Adrienne to the guest room. “You can leave your bag in here.” I wanted her in my room, instead. Longer than for the night or the weekend. I shoved the jarring thought out of my head. I was helping out a friend. Nothing more.
“Thanks.” Her laugh was dry. “I think I’ve spent more time in guest rooms in the last few weeks than the entire rest of my life.”
And it wasn’t her fault. That wasn’t right on so many levels.
“How about I grab us some sodas and we sit by the pool,” I said. Not the best way to put last weekend out of my thoughts, but I wanted her company, not just a warm body in the house.
Her grin was worth it. “I feel so spoiled, hanging out with someone who has a pool. If it was me, I’d be out there every day I could, dangling my feet in the water, soaking up the sun, and doing whatever.”
“Now’s your chance to live the dream.”
We left our shoes by the back door, picked a spot that would stay half-shade, half-sun for the rest of the afternoon, and dipped our bare feet in the pool.
The conversation came easily, like I expected with Adrienne. We fed each other a series of rapid-fire questions: Where did you grow up? Favorite color? Best concert ever? Worst movie ever?
It was simple and perfect.
So when Adrienne said, “Five things you grab very first in a zombie apocalypse.”
I replied with, “a way to find everyone,” without thinking. Wait. What did I mean by that?
“Everyone who?” she asked.
I didn’t… “Everyone.” Brilliant. Not.
“The entire world?” Her question was teasing lined with insistence.
If I drew this out, my answer would seem like a big deal and it wasn’t. “Dustin. You. Brandon and Danny. Reese would be brutal in a zombie apocalypse.”
“I do like her. What else?” Adrienne’s smile was warmer than the fading sunshine.
So glad she didn’t push the issue, but moving on didn’t stop my answer from rattling around in my head. “That’s five plus me, right? We’d make the most kick-ass zombie apocalypse team ever.” Don’t ramble.
“Do we plan to sing and draw the zombies to death?” Adrienne asked.
“Dustin can swim. Zombies typically can’t. They’d get all waterlogged.”
“Eww.” Adrienne’s grimace was priceless. “But also accurate. And depending on what kind of zombies we’re talking about, they’re drawn to noise. I mean, are these classic Romero zombies? World War Z? Shamblers, runners, self-aware, just drones?”
“You know your zombies.” I was impressed, but I shouldn’t be surprised. She knew her aliens, too.
“That’s what I’m bringing to the party. But we can’t offer people up as bait.”
“Definitely not.” Especially not with the nagging behind my ribs at the thought of losing any of them—especially Adrienne or Dustin. I was taking this game way too seriously. “But we’re creative, smart, and have an extensive knowledge of zombies, which puts us ahead of ninety-nine percent of everyone who was ever in a zombie movie or TV show.”
“Right?” Adrienne shook her head with a short laugh. “Like, not a single person on TV has ever seen a zombie movie? Hard to believe.”
I smiled at her amusement. This was easy. Light and fun despite the whispers in the back of my mind that wanted me to give them attention.
“But you really don’t want to answer the question, do you?” Adrienne said. “That’s five people, but your item was a way to get a hold of us.”
Touché. “Stickler for the rules?”
“Sometimes. But mostly I’m curious. What are your four other things?”
Now that I’d moved past the hiccup of my initial answer, I could be more lighthearted about this. “Crowbar-slash-tire iron.”
“Multi-purpose. Smart.”
“Twinkies.”
“Not so smart. You’d go out of your way to stop at a store and grab a box of Twinkies?”
I’d let her have the flavored whipped cream. But the question was slightly different than the one we asked her. “It’s a bribe in case we
run into any loudmouthed guys who really want a Twinkie. Besides, I have a box in the cupboard. I love Twinkies.”
She wrinkled her nose and managed a look of pure disgust. “If you eat them, they cease to be a bribe, but really, why would you? Is it the goopy cream filling or the generically bland sponge made of corn syrup and questionable solids that does it for you?”
“Like you have a problem with cream filling,” I teased.
“Not even for a second. My problem is with Twinkies.”
I sighed and fluttered the back of my hand to my forehead, pretending to be faint. “Who even are you? You can’t be in our camp if you don’t like Twinkies.”
“You’re sure? One less person to share with.” She made a good point.
“Okay, fine. You can stay in our group if I can grab the Twinkies. Four and five—chlorine tablets and my biggest bottle of cologne.”
“I get the tablets, why the other?”
“Assuming these are Walking Dead Season One zombies, create a false trail to throw them off scent-wise. A drop or two of that stuff goes a long way.”
“You let me have my whims in the sex toy shop, so I’ll let you have yours.”
“Much obliged.” I gave her a seated half-bow.
Silence settled in to replace the silliness, and it felt right. Like there was nothing more natural than what we were doing.
“You didn’t say photos.” Adrienne’s voice was soft.
The words shattered my calm regardless. “Of what?”
“Your family.”
I didn’t know how to respond or recover from the gut punch that came with the memory. “Do you blame yourself for what happened with Sean?” I kept my voice kind. I wasn’t accusing her of anything, but I already knew her answer.
“Every day.”
“Even though it’s not your fault.”
“If it wasn’t my fault, I wouldn’t blame myself.”
It was like she crawled into my head and extracted my answers, despite the different situations and the logical voice that said no, really, it’s not my fault. “It’s not, though.”
“Do you believe that?” she asked.
And I wasn’t the only one who saw the parallels. My counter rose to my lips too easily. “I was in the same accident they were. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, I still feel guilty that I survived and they didn’t. Not only survived, but—”
“If you’re going to say walked away mostly unscarred obviously you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t. But close enough.” I was going to say went on to thrive and keep living.
“What happened?”
“Drunk driver ran a red light and struck the passenger side.” How was the pain so fresh after all this time? No, fresh wasn’t the right word. It was more like a bruise that had never gone away, but was obvious now that I was fucking with it.
She covered my hand with hers, where it sat on the concrete between us. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “He decided to drink that night.”
“And Sean decided being a manipulative and abusive douche was more important that appreciating the amazing person you are.”
“It’s not the same.”
It wasn’t, but it was. Why was it so easy to tell her she was right, when I couldn’t believe that about myself? “The mistake I made was being on the road that night, but I trusted that everyone else would follow the same rules I was. The mistake you made was being good and kind and genuine, and assuming everyone else would do the same.” My own words hit me hard. If I couldn’t blame her for wanting to see the good in people, how could I blame myself for someone else’s decision?
I didn’t know, but that didn’t make the gnawing ghost of guilt go away.
“I’ll accept it when you do,” Adrienne’s voice was so soft I barely heard it.
And now the silence was back. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but was heavy. Sad.
Adrienne kicked her feet in the water enough to make small splashes. “Is swimming pool sex real? And before you wonder or ask, yes, I want to talk about something else.”
The question caught me off-guard and the qualifier jabbed a hole in my blanket of grief. Thank God for the distraction. “As in, do some people do it?”
“Outside of porn.”
“Definitely,” I said. “But the thing no one ever talks about is that chlorinated water makes an even worse lubricant than spit.”
She looked at me with feigned surprise. “You can’t just spit on your hand and lube up your cock?”
An ache still lived in my chest, but this made it easier to smile and ignore the pain. “You can, or rather, I can, but that doesn’t mean I should.”
“That’s disappointing.” Adrienne jutted out her bottom lip. “So much for my wicked fantasies of swimming pool sex.”
“I didn’t say it can’t work.”
“You implied it. Are you really going to let us mask this moment with sex?” she asked.
Yes. We both knew what we were doing. Yes. I jumped in the water fully clothed, and sucked in a sharp breath at the shock. It was barely cooler than the ambient air, and I recovered in seconds.
“What are you doing?” Adrienne’s laugh lit up her eyes.
I grabbed her hand and tugged. “Seems like another lesson is in order.”
She didn’t resist when I pulled her in, and her squeal when she hit the water was intoxicating. Pressing closer, I pinned her to the edge of the pool, knotted my fingers in her hair, and held her captive while I captured her mouth. She tasted like chlorine and sugar and salvation.
The water made our clothes flow where they weren’t trapped and rough where the fabric was trapped between us. Each shift of her body against mine built delicious friction, but I wanted to feel her skin.
Adrienne tugged at my shirt, and I helped her yank it off and toss it on the concrete. She trailed her fingers over my body, heat flowing between us.
I pressed my mouth to her shoulder. Her neck. The tender spot behind her ear. “You’re turn.” I pulled up her shirt, stealing a kiss while she was captured and loving the sound of her laughter.
Her bra followed as well, her smile never fading. Pressing against her now was much more fun, as her curves molded to my body, and the water between us vanished.
“I can see how this isn’t the easiest thing,” Adrienne said between giggles and sighs.
“Do you want to give up?” I hated to even suggest it, but I also wasn’t worried about her response.
Her smile turned devilish. “I like challenge, and we’re wet now, so getting out of the pool isn’t going to make it any easier to take clothes off.”
“I do like the way you think.” And talk. And laugh. And move. And— rather than get sucked into a spiral, I fumbled with the button and zipper on her jeans. Not the easiest thing when the fabric was swollen with water, but we figured it out.
After a bit more struggling—sliding wet denim down legs was not an easy task—we discarded the rest of our clothes by the side of the pool. Her naked body against mine, water lapping around us, was an incredible sensation. The water was just cool enough to contrast the scorching heat flowing between us.
I traced my fingers along her skin, marveling at the softness, and she teased me with tentative touches. She drew her nails lightly up my arms, and I shuddered with need. Each move she made was the same combination of curious, bold, and hesitant that I’d come to expect and adore in her.
When she reached between us and gripped my cock, I didn’t try to hide my groan. She shifted her weight to press her pussy against my thigh, and ground against me as she stroked.
I pulled away enough to move my fingers between her legs, and stroke along her slit. The water made for a rougher touch, but she didn’t hesitate to push into me. Her core was still slick—fuck she got wet when she was turned on—and I slipped my fingers inside her.
As I pumped, she stroked me, and her hips swayed to the same rhythm. Her breathing grew more shallow, and her expression slid toward lost in p
leasure. I loved watching her when she was turned on.
I moved back up to tease her clit, flicking and rubbing as best I could in this environment.
She moved her hands to my arms, fingers digging into muscle as her entire body tensed under me. Her cries when she came were delicious.
“I need to fuck you, but not in the water,” I murmured against her skin.
She nodded, eyes half closed, lips parted, and chest heaving. I helped her out of the water, paused long enough to grab a condom from my now-soaked wallet, and guided her toward the large, circular lounge that was set back from the pool.
Adrienne lay back on the soft microfiber covered cushions, her face flushed and her mouth lifted in a smile I couldn’t help kissing again and again.
I teased along her body, up the inside of her thighs, along her stomach, and finally along her pussy, partly to make sure her juices were flowing and she was slick, but mostly because I liked playing with her.
I knelt between her legs, hands behind her knees to push, and thrust. As I slid inside her, a long, almost feral growl tore from my throat. Fuck she felt incredible. I knew exactly why Dustin liked fucking her—not just her tight cunt, but everything about her.
There was no restraint left to hold back, and I slammed against her hard and fast. Pounding. Squeezing her legs to keep my grip. Watching her face shift through a rainbow of expressions.
She clenched around me when she came again, pushing me over the edge. I thrust harder, faster, frantically as orgasm flowed from me, not stopping until I passed spent.
I dropped her legs and leaned in to rest my cheek against her chest. Her heart hammered against my ear. I wasn’t sure how long we sat like that, but it was enough that my cock softened and slipped out of her.
When she shivered with a gust, I was motivated to move. “Don’t go anywhere,” I said against her mouth.
“Not even considering it.”
I disposed of the condom, grabbed a large terry cloth blanket from the pool house, and returned to the lounge. I wrapped both of us up, holding her close and relishing the feeling of her bare body pressed into me.
A nagging tugged at my heart. It didn’t matter how much fun I had, the sadness always came back.
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