Seduction and Snacks (Chocolate Lovers #1)

by Tara Sivec

  "It's probably just me. I always smell like chocolate," she whispered, her arms sliding up to my shoulders and around my neck, her fingers gently sliding through the hair at the nape. Something about the feel of her fingers sliding against the back of my head felt so familiar that it was my turn to shiver.

  Did you just quote 'Heathers'? That is my favorite movie ever.

  I kind of have a thing for quirky, crazy, intelligent, dark-haired chicks.

  I forgot how to breathe for a minute as bits and pieces of the past tried to make their way to the forefront of my mind. She felt so good in my arms; like she belonged there or maybe she'd been there before….

  No, don't be a dick. Claire is sweet and beautiful and a nice girl. Don't confuse her with a memory, especially not now.

  “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

  “Ask me what my favorite movie is.”

  The past, present and stupid dreams were all flying around in my brain trying to fight for first place. Suddenly I had a memory of falling down on top of her on a strange bed. Her body was soft in all the right places and her skin was smooth and I couldn't get enough of touching her. She made the most amazing noises when I licked the skin of her neck right below her ear. I remembered pushing into her and squeezing my eyes shut because she was so fucking tight and hot, and I didn't want it to end before we even got started. I remembered moving slowly in and out of her and hoping to God it felt good for her because I wanted to do this forever with only her. I remembered waking up the next morning, breathing in the smell of chocolate that still lingered on the pillow and the sheets and praying that I'd be able to find out who she was.

  I pulled away from Claire enough so I could see her face. I stared into her eyes, willing every single one of my memories to come back to me so I wouldn't feel so confused. Her fingers continued to play with my hair on the back of my head, bringing everything into focus.

  "What's your favorite movie?" I whispered.

  I held my breath, desperate for the answer. I watched her face go from content to puzzled to nervous. Why was she nervous? It was a simple question. Unless…

  She looked back and forth between my eyes and I watched her blink back tears. Seeing her eyes like this, so bright and nervous jarred a memory loose and I choked on a breath. With perfect clarity I saw myself above her, pulling her leg up and wrapping it around my hip while I stared down into her eyes. I remembered looking into her eyes as I pushed inside of her and forcing myself to stop when I saw her quickly blink back tears.

  I remembered hearing her gasp like she was in pain and I asked her if she was okay. She never answered me; she just stared up at me with those beautiful, bright brown eyes, pulled my face down to hers and kissed me. Claire’s face, Claire’s eyes, Claire’s body…

  "Heathers," she whispered.

  My mind flew back to the present at the sound of her whispered admission. All I could do was stare at her in disbelief. The feel of her in my arms, her breath on my face, the sound of her laughter and the way she blushed when she was embarrassed, I remembered it all. Bumping our shoulders together conspiratorially as we played beer pong, the way her lips felt the first time I kissed her…it was her. It was Claire.

  "My favorite movie. It's Heathers," she repeated, mistaking my stunned silence for a hearing impairment. She stared at me like she was willing me to remember. Hoping that I would finally get a clue as to why she and Liz acted so weird when they met me. Why she was so nervous around me that night we showed up at Jim and Liz’s and tried to avoid looking me in the eyes at all cost. Why everyone at the table looked like they’d seen a ghost when Drew brought up the virgin comment. Why she was reticent to share too much with me during our many conversations over the last few weeks - I already knew everything about her. She’d shared it all with me that night so many years ago.

  "It's you," I whispered, bringing my hand up to cup her cheek. "Holy shit."

  She let out a watery laugh and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against my chin.

  "Oh thank God," she muttered to herself, but loud enough for me to hear.

  I reached under her chin and pushed her face back up so I could see her.

  "Why didn't you say anything? You probably thought I was a complete asshole."

  She smirked at me. "I did. At first. Liz wanted to kick your ass."

  "I think she still does," I deadpanned.

  She smiled and it made my knees weak.

  "Honestly, I didn’t know what to think when I first saw you and you didn’t say anything. I figured you were just a typical asshole that had countless one-night-stands in college. But after some of the stuff Jim told us you said, Liz figured out pretty quickly that you must have just been too drunk that night to remember everything about me. I’m still going with the idea that I just wasn't very memorable to begin with."

  She laughed at her own words but I could tell that idea bothered her.

  "Don't even joke about that. Do you have any idea how long I've looked for you? How bat shit crazy Drew thinks I am because I keep trying to find lotion that smells like chocolate and nothing ever comes close to the way I remembered you? I was beginning to think I imagined you."

  I pulled her body back against mine and rested my forehead against hers, afraid to let go of her for fear she would disappear again. How could this be real? Drew is never going to believe this. Fuck, I still didn't believe it. Now that she was this close, I could smell her skin without even trying and it made me smile.

  "You either didn't have as much to drink that night as I did or you just have a damn good memory. How in the hell did you recognize me?" I asked.

  Claire opened her mouth to speak, but right then, the door to the store burst open and she pulled back out of my arms suddenly as we both turned in that direction. The little boy with the mouth flew through the door and I let out a laugh, figuring he had gotten away from his dad again.

  "Mommy! I gots ice cream!" he yelled as he ran towards us.

  I stood there with my mouth open as Claire bent down and caught the little guy as he threw himself into her arms. She looked up at me in complete and utter horror.

  Holy shit. She has a kid. I've been looking for her for five years and she went off and had a kid. Well doesn't this sunk donkey dick.

  "Sweetie, that kid is about two steps away from getting one of those kid leash things they sell at the store. Or a shock collar. I wonder if you need a concealed carry permit to get a taser."

  In walked the dad I saw earlier, and I tried not to cringe as he walked over to where Claire was crouched down still hugging the boy and looking a little bit like she might puke.

  Claire has an old man fetish. This guy has to be pushing fifty. I’d puke too if I was here. That's kind of gross. She's touched those old, wrinkly balls. When he cums I bet it's just a puff of smoke poofing out of his elderly penis. The guy finally glanced over at me, looking me up and down.

  "Who are you?" he asked, obviously forgetting our encounter just moments ago due to the Alzheimer’s.

  "You have old balls," I mumbled angrily.

  "George! I thought I saw your car pull up a little bit ago!" Liz exclaimed as she walked over from her side of the store and right up to Claire, helping her off the floor. I stared at the back of the guy's head as Liz walked over and he turned to give her a hug. He's got thinning hair for fuck's sake. Can his balls even grow hair anymore? I want to punch his hairless old balls.

  Claire looked nervously back and forth between Old Man Winter and me. I wonder what he would think about the fact that Claire and I had a past. And that she almost made out with me right before he got here and interrupted us.

  "I slept with your wife," I stated, crossing my arms in front of me and staring him down.

  All three of them gaped at me with equal looks of confusion on their faces.

  "You swept wif my Nana? Did she read you a bedtime story? Papa says she snores."

  George took a step towards me and I actually gulped. Regardless
of how old his balls were, I was sure he could kick my ass. Or kill me and make it look like an accident.

  "Dad," Claire said in warning.

  Dad? Oh, fuck. I really am an asshole. I have Tourette's of the mouth. Claire never once mentioned his name when she talked about him. This was the man who punched someone in the face for calling him grandpa. And now I just told him he had old balls. He was going to straight up murder me.

  "Shit. I didn't sleep with your wife. Total mistake."

  He stopped walking towards me and if I had a brain I would have kept my mouth shut from that point on. Obviously I was drunk the day they were handing those things out.

  "I got confused. I meant to say I slept with your daughter."

  I heard Liz groan and saw Claire's mouth fall open.

  "But it's not what you think," I continued quickly. "I mean, we were both really, really drunk and I didn't even know who she was until a minute ago."

  Oh my God, stop. STOP!

  One of his eyebrows cocked and I swear I heard him crack his knuckles.

  "She smells like chocolate and I don't like to be spanked," I blurted in a panic.

  "Jesus Christ..." George muttered, shaking his head.

  I saw Claire smack Liz from behind George. Liz was snorting with laughter. Of course she found this funny.

  "I don't like to be spanked either. How's come I don't have hair on my balls? Mommy, you aren't going to spank him are you?"

  "Yes, Mommy, tell us. Are you going to spank Carter for being a bad boy?" Liz said in her best Marilyn Monroe voice. In the chaos of the shit storm that was happening, I never really got a good look at the kid Claire was holding. His back had been facing me up until a few seconds ago and I hadn’t been paying much attention when I caught him from running away outside. Claire had to shift him to her other arm so she could smack Liz. He was staring right at me now. He was a really good-looking kid. But that wasn't surprising since he looked just like her. But there was something about him...

  I cocked my head to the side and he did the same. I realized no one was speaking but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. The edges of my vision started to turn black and I felt like I was going to pass out. He had my eyes. He had my fucking eyes! I quickly tried to do the math but my brain was a jumbled mess and I couldn’t remember what number comes after potato!

  What the fuck is happening right now? This couldn't be real. My sperm betrayed me. I suddenly had a vision of my sperm swimming around and talking in Bruce Willis's voice like in Look Who's Talking. "Come on! Swim faster! This little shit has no idea we escaped from the condom! Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!"

  My Bruce Willis sperm is bad ass and thinks he's John McClane from "Die Hard." That is the only explanation for this fuckery.

  "Who are you?" I asked the kid with my eyes when I finally found my voice.

  "I'm Gavin Morgan, who the hell are you?"

  11. Good Vibrations

  Oh fuck.

  My dad was going to kill Carter before I even got a chance to tell him that he was a father. Although, I was pretty sure that ship has sailed. He's either mentally challenged or in shock. Or I completely missed the fact that he liked to shout about hairy balls and being spanked.

  Gavin did like to talk about his balls all the time. Could be hereditary…

  "Who are you?" Carter whispered, staring straight at Gavin like he was trying to figure out the square root of pi in his head.

  "I'm Gavin Morgan, who the hell are you?"

  "GAVIN!" we all scolded, except for Carter. He still looked like he might throw up.

  Shit, this was so not how I saw this happening. I knew after all of our conversations and how much I’d gotten to know Carter that I was going to have to come clean soon. And I had planned on telling him today, easing him into it.

  After I plied him with enough alcohol to choke a horse.

  "This is one of mommy's friends, buddy," I told Gavin. "Friend" seemed better than "the father you never knew you had" or “the guy who knocked mommy up” at the moment. I could wait until he was a teenager to scar him with that information.

  Gavin started to get bored with the lack of excitement in the room since everyone pretty much just stood there and waited for Carter’s brain to explode. Gavin had the attention span of a two-year-old with ADD on crack. He started to squirm in my arms so I put him down. I held my breath as he stalked right over and stood in front of Carter with his hands on his hips.

  "You're Mommy's fwiend?" he questioned.

  Carter just nodded with his mouth open and no sound coming out. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even hear Gavin. Someone could have asked him if he liked to watch gay porn while painting pictures of kittens and he would have nodded his head.

  Before anyone could react, Gavin pulled back one of his little fists of fury and slammed it right into Carters manhood. He immediately bent over at the waist, clutching his hands between his legs and gasping for breath.

  "Oh my God! Gavin!" I yelled, as I scrambled over to him, bent down and turned him around to face me while my dad and Liz laughed like hyenas behind me.

  "What is wrong with you? We don't hit people. EVER," I scolded.

  While Carter tried to breathe again, my dad managed to stop laughing long enough to apologize.

  "Sorry, Claire, that's probably my fault. I let Gavin watch "Fight Club" with me last night."

  I am Claire’s complete mortification.

  "Your fwiends got you sick the other night. You said he was your fwiend," Gavin explained, like it made all the sense in the world.

  This just made my dad laugh even louder.

  "Not helping, Dad," I growled through clenched teeth.

  "You don't make my mommy sick, dicky-punk!" Gavin yelled at Carter, putting his two little fingers up by his eyes, and then pointing them right at Carter just like Liz had done to him earlier.

  "Jesus Christ," Carter wheezed. "Did he just threaten me?"

  "Jesus Cwist!" Gavin repeated back.

  Liz scurried over then and scooped Gavin up into her arms.

  "Okay, little man, how about me, you and Papa go for a walk and talk about big-people words?" she asked him as she walked over to my dad and grabbed him around the elbow.

  I stood up and shot her a look of thanks. She just smiled and dragged my dad out the door with Gavin talking her ear off about something he saw on Spongebob.

  When Carter and I were finally alone, I chanced a look at him. He didn't look pissed. He didn't look sad. He just looked like he had no idea where he was or what day it was. We stood there looking at each other for several minutes until the silence finally got to me.

  "Would you please say something?" I begged.

  Just moments ago I was blissfully happy that he finally figured out who I was. He held me close and he was going to kiss me. Now everything was ruined and it was my fault for not telling him sooner.

  Carter shook his head as if trying to clear it.

  "That was a kid," he stated. "I don't like kids."

  I bit my tongue. He was still in shock. I couldn't just go off on him because he said something like that. Hell, I don't even like kids and I live with one. I love my kid, but that doesn’t mean I like him all the time.

  "I used a condom. I know I used a condom," he said in an accusatory tone, shooting me a panicked look.

  Okay, that was it for the tongue biting. The pleasure I’d felt earlier when he’d had his body pressed up against mine and his lips on my neck flew right out the window.

  "Really? You can actually remember that? Because I'm pretty sure up until about twenty minutes ago you had no fucking idea who I even was. You're right though, you did use a condom. You put it on three thrusts after you took my virginity. But let me clear something up for you there Einstein, they aren't one-hundred percent effective, especially when they aren’t used properly," I fumed.

  "I dry heave whenever anyone pukes. And I don't know how to change a diaper," he said in horror.

  "Carter, he's four. H
e doesn't wear diapers. And he's not Linda Blair from the Exorcist. He's doesn't walk around spewing vomit all day," I said with a roll of my eyes.

  "My wiener hurts. I need a drink," he muttered before turning and walking out the door.

  ***

  By the time Liz and my dad came back to the store with Gavin, I was in no mood to talk to either one of them. I put Gavin in the car and went home without saying a word. I was probably acting like a big baby, but I didn't care. I was mad at them for thinking this whole thing was funny, I was mad at myself for not telling Carter as soon as I saw him, and I was mad that I was mad about all this.

  Who cares that he freaked out and would probably never talk to us again? It wasn't like we were missing out on anything. Gavin had no idea who he was. How could you miss something you never had?

  But I did have him. Literally. And even thought I was fucked up at the time, I know what I’m missing. For two weeks he opened up to me and I knew so much more about him than I did before. I know he loves his family and wants more than anything to have one of his own some day. I know he’s a hard worker and would do anything for those he loved. For just a moment, it was nice to have him here. To be in the same room with him, to see him smile and hear him laugh, to feel his arms around me and know I wasn’t alone in this crazy parenthood thing.

  Shit. I was good and fucked. I did care. I wanted him in my life; in Gavin’s life. I wanted Gavin to know his father and I wanted Carter to know what kind of an awesome little person he helped to create. I want to spend more time with him and I want him to know me. Not the partial version I gave him on the phone for fear of slipping up about Gavin or the chocolate-scented fantasy version he held onto all these years, the real me. The one who put her dreams on hold to raise his son, the one who would do it all over again in a minute if it meant she got to have Gavin in her life, the not so perfect crazy me who jumps to conclusions and freaks out about the most mundane things and who would give anything to go back to that morning five years ago and stay curled up in that boy’s arms who smelled like sweet cinnamon and whose kisses were hotter than an inferno.