The Reward

by Jade A. Waters

  Charlie said, “I tried to tell you at the show, but you wouldn’t give me a chance. I’ve changed, Maya, and I get it. I fucked up then, but I’m good now. That’s why I sent the flowers.”

  The confirmation of my earlier fear stirred up the turmoil in my belly. He had sent them, flowers and a sweet note I’d thought had come from Dean.

  For some reason, that fact reminded me of the note that’d come weeks before the flowers. Had that been from him, too?

  Charlie took a step forward. “Think about our good times! We were great. It could be so different, I promise. Just talk to me. Give me a chance—”

  “Charlie.” I gathered my voice. If he was here, if he’d sent me things, he wasn’t getting it. I didn’t care if he’d changed; I had to say something, or he’d never back down. It took everything I had, but I inhaled and stood taller, hoping the movement might send him a signal that I was stronger than I used to be. I knew I was, even as fucked up as I’d felt over the last week. Deep down, I wasn’t the girl I’d been. I tried to summon every healing thought I had, and calmly I said, “I need you to go. You can’t be here. Stop trying to find me—”

  “But I was trying to show you I’m good, and you fucking ran off from me!” Charlie spat the words out with a loud, nasally shriek, the sound too familiar, making me sway on my feet. When he yanked his hands from his pockets, he splayed them at his sides, his body imposing and reminding me of all the things that used to happen the times he got mad. My eyes widened, the pound of my heart louder, faster.

  I shouldn’t have talked to him. I should have bolted inside.

  The door burst open behind me. I didn’t turn, but I heard Maddie’s voice. “Everything okay out here? I thought you were behind me but I had to...” When her sentence trailed off, I tried to quiet the fear ribboning a brutal path around my neck to choke me. “Um, do you know this person?”

  “Yes, she does. And I’m trying to talk to her, if you don’t mind.” Charlie was firm, but he’d moderated his voice.

  Just for an audience.

  I wanted to throw up.

  “Maya?” Maddie asked.

  With her there, I felt like I had a brace behind me in case I needed it. I stepped back a pace, but I kept my eyes on Charlie. I had to be calm and cool. I have to talk him down. “Hey, I appreciate what you’re saying. That’s great, and I’m happy you’ve made some changes in your life. But you can’t show up at my work. This isn’t going to happen.” He wasn’t backing down, and I could feel Maddie’s concern growing behind me. Hell, growing in me. Charlie opened his mouth to say something, so I threw down the last card I had. “And I have a boyfriend now, anyway, so... Go, okay? Take care of yourself.”

  Charlie’s nostrils flared. He didn’t move, merely watching me as I waited and hoped he’d take the not-so-subtle hints.

  When he continued to stand there, Maddie stepped out toward me, and Charlie whirled around.

  “Fine. Your loss,” he snapped. Then he stormed down the street.

  Every step he took aligned with the bang of my heart, a drum sounding off like I’d prepared for battle—but Charlie had left. He’d heard me. When he was out of earshot, I breathed, “Thank God.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Maddie came to my side. “Who the hell was that? Please don’t tell me that was...” I affirmed with a half nod, and she wrapped me up in a hug, both of us watching Charlie’s path until he disappeared around the corner. “Are you okay? Do we need to call security? The police?”

  The Charlie I’d known would fight if he wanted to. “I think it’s okay,” I said. Though I hadn’t said much, the fact that he hadn’t thrown a protest allowed me to breathe.

  Maybe he had changed, at least a little.

  Neither Maddie nor I spoke while the wind breezed down the street, making the otherwise sunny day feel a tad colder. Maddie’s arms loosened and she rubbed my back when we walked inside, and though I was still somewhat shaken up by Charlie’s intrusion, the fact that he’d left calmed me. Me telling him to go had felt good. Powerful. I’d never had the strength to stand up to Charlie a decade ago, and I settled into my desk chair with a deep breath that filled my chest in the most comforting way.

  Maybe all the change had been in me.

  * * *

  Dean wasn’t happy to hear about the Charlie incident when I called him after I’d stepped out of my post-lunch appointment. We went around and around on it, but as worried as he’d been, he started to agree with me once I explained how much better I felt having stood up to him.

  “I honestly think it’s okay. I don’t know if he’s really changed, but I don’t think he’d have backed down if he wanted to fuck with me. You know?”

  Dean considered this, and I glanced out the window of the private room I’d taken over to call him. I didn’t have a lot of time to talk before the next appointment in here, but I hadn’t wanted to tell him what’d happened sitting in my cubicle in the middle of the office.

  “I guess,” he said.

  “Dean. We can’t live in a state of worry. He left. Maddie was there. She saw it. And mentioning you totally burst his bubble.”

  “Yeah, it better.” Dean’s tone finally cracked a smile on my face. I loved how protective he was, how much he cared, and the intensity of the last hour and a half started to subdue. “If he shows up again—”

  “I’ll call the police,” I said, firm. “But I think it’s over.” I remembered the fall of Charlie’s face, the way he’d whirled around and muttered about my loss. It was good. The situation was resolved. “I do.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I need to go, anyway. I have an appointment in—” I peeked at the clock on the wall “—about five minutes, and someone else needs this room. I’ll see you tonight, though.”

  “Yes. I love you, Maya.”

  “You, too. Work hard.”

  “You, too.”

  As brief as it was, the conversation helped boost my spirits. It’d been good to stand up to Charlie, and even more so, to have him gone and to be able to tell Dean I’d made it happen. I felt...proud. Strong. And, paired with the conversation I’d had with Maddie at lunch, I knew I needed to celebrate and take back my power.

  I wanted Dean and I back to what we’d been before, thriving in our hot, intense dynamic, not this tentative, gentle rut he seemed intent on sticking us in since he’d gotten back from L.A.

  Through the rest of the workday and the entire drive home Friday night, my resolve grew stronger. Dean and I spent the first chunk of our evening together talking about our workdays, but when he opened the fridge door to peer inside for dinner options, I hopped up onto the countertop beside him.

  “What do you think of going out tonight?” I asked.

  Dean glanced over at me, his hand wrapped around the steel door handle. “For dinner?”

  “No.” Stretching out my toes, I raked them against his hip with a mischievous grin on my face. “I mean later. Afterward.”

  Dean took a second to consider this. “For dessert?”

  “No, silly.” I reached out for his arm, guiding him over to me and centering him between my thighs. He still wore his work attire, the gray button-down shirt emphasizing his eyes, and I curved my arms around his waist to bring his torso along mine. I breathed him in before taking a kiss of his lips. “Though dessert could always happen while we’re out...” Dean curved his arms around me, and we clutched one another as I gazed into his face. “But I’m talking out out. Like...hmm. Oh! I know. We were talking about dancing for a while there. What if we did that?”

  Dean’s hands stayed motionless on my back. “Weren’t we going to do more unpacking this weekend?”

  “So? We have all weekend.”

  “But...”

  “But what?” I slid my fingers up his neck, stroking his hairline and threading m
y fingers through the strands of his hair. When I leaned against his ear, I nibbled his earlobe. “There’ll be plenty of time to recover. I think this would be good for us.”

  Dean released a deep breath, then caught my chin between his fingers to turn my face to his, where a shadow of concern touched his eyes. “Does this mean you’re already bored living with me, Maya Clery?”

  “No! That’s not it at all.” I caught his face between my palms, wanting him to see how serious I was, and Dean lowered his hands next to my hips on the counter to lean in. I curved my arms back around him and pulled him in as tight as I could. “Things have just been tense lately, with my brother, and...earlier.”

  Dean frowned. “I still hate that he showed up.”

  “I know. I do, too, but it’s over, okay? We need to focus on us.”

  “With Charlie—”

  “Can we not mention that name in this house, ever again?” Dean opened his mouth to protest, and I pressed two fingers to his lips to shush him before kissing his cheek. “It’s shitty, I know, and it’s bad timing. But I told him to go away, and he left. He would never have done that if he was as bad as he used to be. He freaked me out, but it’s okay. It’s done. I need it to be done.” I stared at him, hoping he saw how serious I was, and when he didn’t say anything, I opted for a different tack, because I didn’t want to talk about the Charlie event for one more second. I danced my fingertips down his chest and said, “Besides, doesn’t a night out sound like a good way to lighten the mood and cut loose? I think it’d be fun.” I rubbed my breasts against his chest with a wink. “Also, I have yet to see your moves...”

  Dean’s tough demeanor crumbled with his loud snicker, and I had a second to register the slip of his hands under my ass, which he gripped tightly to lift me off the counter and set me on the floor. He held me and dipped in for a heavy, breathy kiss, and I melted against him before he peeled away to stare into my eyes. “These moves?” he said, starting to sway us.

  “Oh, no no no.” I kissed the edge of his jaw, then his neck, thrilled to see him lightening up. “Your club moves. I bet you’re a wicked grinder.”

  “Think so?” Dean grabbed my hand to twirl me out a couple of feet. I squealed as he drew me back in, and even louder when he smacked the side of my ass and gripped it before crushing my mouth in a hard kiss.

  I gasped. There it was—that version of him I’d missed, not the cautious, careful one tiptoeing on eggshells to be sure I wasn’t hurt. I was fine, so fine, I just wanted everything to be normal again. Dean’s body against mine and the firm grasp he had of my ass sent spirals of anticipation through me, ensuring that dancing with him would be sexy and hot.

  But the fucking after?

  That would be out of this world.

  I pictured his body naked and rough over mine, a smile growing on my face when Dean tilted back. I said, “Yeah. It’ll be fun. We can get dressed up and see what the dancing brings...”

  Dean had started grinning, too, but he kept swaying me in the middle of the kitchen. His insteps pressed against the outsides of my feet and his hands still cupped my ass, our bodies joined in the promise of a much dirtier dance. “All right. I’m in.”

  “Good.”

  “Dinner, then dancing.”

  “I love it!”

  Dean released me and turned back to the fridge. “In the meantime, what are your thoughts on grilled salmon?”

  “Mmm. Yes, please. I’ll make a salad.”

  “Perfect.”

  I put a lid on my excitement, since I suspected the night out would be the perfect thing to rev us both up. After we spent the next chunk of the evening eating, picking a club and curling up on the couch to watch the news and a mindless show before it was time to get ready, my anticipation did nothing but increase. The two of us shared an absurdly long shower thanks to the bouts of kissing we kept having under the water, and once I stepped out wearing a towel to go rummaging through my dresser and the closet, I gave Dean a coy smirk before grabbing my makeup bag and running off to the other room to dress.

  “It’s a surprise!” I shouted.

  Dean’s laughter followed me until I slammed the door, and then I set to work. We’d propped my full-length mirror in the spare room, and I used it to check out my outfit; it’d been one of my favorite dancing outfits not that many years ago—a body-hugging skinny-strap black dress with a neckline that cut low on my breasts and sides crafted entirely of lace. The dress was a tad on the short side, and I’d definitely gained a handful of pounds in my comfort over the last year with Dean, but I thought the little extra curve made it sexier. And with my push-up bra to boot? Dean was going to love it.

  I spent the next twenty minutes applying my makeup, enjoying the opportunity to glam it up since it wasn’t my usual state. After my shadow and liner were finished, I slicked on a deep mauve lipstick and snuck out to the guest bathroom, where I’d left most of my girlie items. I applied a spritz of perfume and picked a necklace to go with a huge pair of dangly silver earrings. Satisfied, I found Dean in our room. He was slipping a belt into the loops of his dark denim jeans that he’d donned with a deep navy Oxford shirt, and with his polished leather shoes, freshly shaven face and slicked-back hair, he looked delectable.

  “Don’t you look sexy,” I growled. I slid into his arms and inhaled the scent of amber cologne he’d sprayed on sometime after I left the room, which served as the most provocative enhancement to his already sexy, natural smell.

  Dean’s hands were hot through the lace sides of my dress while he took me in, too. “Says the vixen.” The sheen of his eyes was so lusty and dark, my stomach fluttered.

  This had been an excellent plan on my part.

  A few minutes later we were off, and after we parked in the garage two blocks down from the club in the Russian Hill area, we walked hand in hand along the street. The late-September weather had stayed reasonably warm by day, but it was chilly in the city at this hour, the fog a damp cloak in the air that drove me to clutch my coat tighter and wedge myself under Dean’s arm. He cinched me close with a kiss on my temple, then hurried us until we waited not too terribly long in the line to get inside the club, and in another to turn our coats in to coat check a little after eleven.

  The place was packed. I hadn’t been here in at least four years, and the décor had altered with what I’d read online was a change in ownership. Twice as many lighting tracks rimmed the ceiling, and their rays sprayed the mass of dancing bodies on the floor with neon flashes of color. Old-fashioned portraits lined the walls like they’d tried to make the place more dated and classy, which worked well with the enormous bar jutting out from the wall to the right, where the bartenders were each dressed in pinstriped vests, white dress shirts and red bow ties. Even the go-go dancers at the two outermost corners of the bar were in on the vibe, wearing hot pink or lime-pinstriped bodysuits with wide fence nets and tall lace-up boots as they shook it to the remixes of hip-hop and Top 40s tunes. I’d had a great night out for Selby’s bachelorette party last month, but when I took Dean’s hand and dragged him toward the bar, I had a feeling tonight would be a vastly different kind of fun with his company.

  After a lengthy wait for our drinks, we zipped out to the floor. The room was a stuffy mix of sweat, booze and the smoke from machines at opposite corners blasting occasional bursts of white-gray clouds overhead, which almost masked the rich scent of someone who’d worn far too much patchouli. The pound of the beat, the scents, the scene—all of it made me feel alive as we balanced our glasses squeezed into the mass of people like we were, occasionally finding a foot or two of space to ease out in. I’d had slow dances with Dean on a couple of dates, in his living room and at the wedding, too, but here, he was as slick as I imagined. His warm fingertips held onto me no matter where we moved on the floor, and he alternated between pulling me tight, swinging me out in our small section of the floo
r, circling me and grinding shamelessly against me. I’d loved and hated the grind in the past. It was fun with someone you wanted to take home, but otherwise, intrusive.

  With my incredible boyfriend Dean, however? Sexy as fuck.

  Dean’s hands over my body were entrancing and hot, and with both of us having fun and pressed together, I felt a prickle of arousal teasing my spine well before I got to my second drink. Excited, I smashed my lips against Dean’s for a heavy kiss, tasting the scotch on his tongue and growling with a bite of my lip before I pulled away. His adoration over the week had been great, and so had the sex we’d shared, but dancing like this was charging me up, the pressure of his hands on my sides making me ache for the dynamic he’d dimmed in all his fretting over me. The urge for more of it had swept in like a tidal wave from the moment we’d stepped onto the floor, a deep rumble amplifying the rhythm of my heart. It didn’t hurt that Dean had found opportunities to curve his fingers beneath my ass cheeks in a hard grip before he’d pull me in, or that I felt the lift of his cock when I’d intentionally breathe a gust of air into his ear, or we pressed tight together thanks to the influx of dancers streaming in while the night wore on. But after we paused for my third rum and Coke, we headed upstairs. The beat was faster there, thicker, with a bit of a salsa flair that had us dancing harder and sweating against each other under crimson and purple lights. Dean’s firm body was electric as always next to mine, but more so with the alcohol in my veins and the pulsating rhythm of the beat echoing loud in my head to encourage me.

  I lifted my mouth to his ear. “You’re an incredible dancer.”

  “You’re amazing, too.”

  “You know what else?”

  “What?”

  “You’re exactly the type of man I’d like to take home with me,” I said, tilting back my head with a playful smile. The rich, musky smell of his body and the lingering trace of his amber cologne cranked the heat in me higher, made me ache for him.