Rewriting History

by Missy Johnson

  Laughing, I tear into the present first. Gifts from your parents are probably the only time when it’s forgivable not to open the card first. Mom watches as I unveil a small jewelry box. Lifting the lid, I gasp as I see the diamond teardrop pendant sitting atop of a plush velvet cushion. It’s gorgeous.

  “Wow, it’s beautiful,” I gasp, lifting it onto the palm of my hand. I marvel as the light catches the many sides to the stone. It glistens as it twirls gently on the chain.

  “Here, I’ll help. Happy birthday, honey.”

  I lift my hair as she clasps the chain around my neck. It sits perfectly. I turn and wrap my arms around her. I open the card and smile at her words. One thing I never need to doubt is how much she and Dad love me.

  “I love it, Mom. I love you.”

  “What time are you meeting your new friend tonight?” she asks suddenly.

  I glance at my watch and realize I’m running late. I kiss Mom on the cheek. “Gotta run,” I say and race upstairs, slamming my door shut.

  I’ve got just enough time to take a shower, shave, and get dressed. I decide on a little black number with ballet flats, barely any makeup, and my hair in wrapped into a soft bun on the top of my head. I love this ballerina look—casual yet sexy with a sprinkle of cute.

  I drive to Eli’s and manage to score a parking spot right out the front. It’s a nice change from having to drive around, looking for somewhere to park. I like his place. It’s a nice area with lots of billowing trees and off the main road, so it’s quiet.

  My stomach is fluttering with nervousness as I walk up the stairs to his apartment and knock on the door.

  “Hey.” He smiles, opening the door. My heart races at the sight of him. He’s changed out of his work clothes. I smile at how he looks in the fitted jeans he’s wearing, along with a button-down shirt.

  I step inside, letting him pull me against him, his lips pressing against mine. God, I’ve missed this. His fingers caress my face as our tongues clash. I just cannot get enough of him.

  Classical music is playing faintly in the background, and the smell of something delicious is wafting through the air. We break apart and I walk further inside the living room, his gaze not leaving me. He’s standing there with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, where he’s been since I arrived. I love it when he watches me. There’s something so damn sexy about seeing the want in someone’s eyes as they follow you, undressing you.

  A shiver races down my spine. I wish he’d undress me with more than that.

  “You look good,” he says in a husky voice.

  “So do you,” I smirk, biting my lip, trying to tame the butterflies going crazy in my stomach. Why am I so nervous?

  “Come here,” he murmurs.

  He pushes himself off the wall and moves toward me, his arms moving around my waist. He slips off my jacket, abandoning it on the floor. Slowly stepping backwards, my ass hits the dining table behind me, halting me. I groan as he pushes me harder against the table. He’s hard. I can feel his cock pressing into my hip, and it’s turning me on to no end.

  His eyes don’t stray from mine as his hands grip my thighs. He lifts me up onto the table, nudging my legs apart as he stands between them.

  My body is crazy. I’m horny as fuck, and all I can think about is him being inside me. I grab the bottom of his shirt and motion for him to take it off while I work on unbuttoning his jeans. He stops my hand from undoing the zipper when he lowers himself to his knees and pulls my dress over my hips.

  Leaning back on the table to rest on my elbows, a whimper escapes me as his lips brush along my material-restricted entrance. I’m so wet, and the feel of him touching me there is making me wetter. I groan loudly and buck as he pulls the fabric of my lacy thong aside, his tongue thrusting inside me.

  Jesus, his tongue is magic.

  “Fuck, Jill, you’re intoxicating,” he says, panting heavily.

  I can feel my orgasm isn’t far off and I pull on his hair, gripping it in my fists.

  “Eli, please. I need you,” I gasp.

  He stands and runs the back of his hand across his mouth. He brings his lips to mine for a chaste kiss, and I can taste myself on him—it’s so sexy. Letting his pants fall to the ground, he thrusts into me suddenly. My walls start to contract around him but I’m trying to hold off as long as I can.

  We’re both watching his slick cock pump me and it’s spurring us on further.

  “Fuck, I’m not going to last much longer,” he groans.

  My arms collapse and I fall back on the table as he holds my thighs and thrusts deeper inside me. I cry out as my body releases, climaxing so hard that my back arches off the table.

  “Fuck, I love you,” I mumble, the words tumbling out before I can stop myself.

  Eli stills, his eyes closed, and collapses on top of me as he releases inside me.

  We lie there for a couple of minutes, drenched in sweat. The smell of sex is all around us and I hope we are eating on this table tonight. It’s such a unique smell, our smell.

  “So, dinner’s ready. I kinda got sidetracked.” He smirks.

  “Really? I didn’t notice,” I tease, smiling.

  Walking into the kitchen, I see a small round wooden table set up, complete with a white tablecloth, flowers, and candles. Add the faint background music, and you can’t get much more romantic than this.

  I slip into one of the chairs and watch as Eli pours me a glass of wine. My heart swells. He’s everything I’ve wanted all my life, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.

  Eli takes a seat across from me, holding his hand out to me, and I place my hand in his. I feel like I’m giving him my heart. Turning my hand over so it’s face up, he places an envelope gently on my fingers. I look down at our hands and then back up to him with a look on my face that would resemble an excited kid in a candy store.

  “Happy birthday, Jill,” he whispers, pushing my hands toward me to open it.

  I take my time to open the present. This is my first present from a boyfriend. My eyes widen and my mouth is open when I realize I’m holding a two-night getaway for Los Angeles.

  “I was torn on what to get you,” he admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to buy for a girlfriend.”

  “You did well,” I laugh. I can’t stop smiling. I feel so lucky to have so many people around me who care about me. “I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”

  “Just say ‘thank you, Eli, you’re the most amazing, sexy guy on the planet and I’m thrilled at the idea of sharing two nights in LA with you,’” he teases, rising from his chair.

  “You’re an idiot,” I giggle. “But honestly, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend it with.”

  “Now, before you sidetrack me again, I’m going to serve dinner.”

  I watch as he loads the table between us with an array of garlic bread, pasta, and salad. It looks amazing and I’m impressed at how much trouble he has gone to.

  “You cooked all this?” I gasp, a smile stretching across my cheeks.

  He flushes. “Well, I may have had a little help from Dolante’s,” he admits, naming an expensive Italian restaurant in town.

  I laugh, because I’m still impressed—because it’s probably even more considerate of him not to have subjected me to his cooking.

  “Something funny?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

  I shake my head. “No. Just thinking how lucky I am.”

  Chapter Ten

  Eli

  Last night occupies my thoughts, and I’m finding it hard to focus on anything but the thought of myself inside her. I glance over and watch her sleep, easing strands of her hair from her face. She stirs, a smile spreading on her lips, but doesn’t wake. She is perfect.

  I know I have to tell her, but I have no idea how. When she told me she loved me last night, I knew I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate the words. As much as I wanted to, until she knows where we stand, I don’t want her feelings to run deeper than they already ar
e.

  I’ve never been so happy for the holidays—two weeks of not having to worry about being seen with her—but hanging in the back of my mind is the fact that I’ll be her teacher again. How do I tell her that? I want to wait for the right moment, but at the same time, I don’t want to lie to her.

  I’m not going to ruin her break. We’ll make the most of this, and then I’ll tell her. Six months isn’t long, is it? We have the rest of our lives . . . if she even feels the same way. I know she loves me, but does love at eighteen differ from the love you feel at twenty-five? Was I capable of this at eighteen?

  That’s what scares me most.

  The problem with such a big age difference is that even though she’s mature for her age, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m eight years older than she is. It’s always in the back of my mind. Am I taking advantage of her? Am I stealing experiences from her? I hate the thought that I could be. She’s still so young, so impressionable, and I need to be cautious of that.

  She stirs in my arms again, but this time her eyes open. She smiles at me.

  “Hey,” I murmur, kissing her forehead.

  “Morning,” she replies, snuggling closer to me.

  I’m hard. Again. But she always does that to me. I could sleep with her all day and it still wouldn’t be enough. I run my fingers over her back until she falls back to sleep. There is nothing sexier in the world to me than the curve of her naked back. It’s an instant turn-on, and something I could touch all day.

  I force myself to get up and quickly shower before getting started preparing her a post-birthday breakfast. I’m a pretty crappy cook, but I’ve been practicing this blueberry pancake recipe all week in preparation for today and I’m feeling pretty damn confident.

  Too confident.

  After four failed attempts and no idea what the fuck I’m doing wrong, I scratch the idea and pull some bread out of the freezer. Eggs and bacon on toast I can manage—I think.

  I look up and see her walking into the kitchen, dressed in one of my shirts. Fuck me, if that isn’t sexy . . . I feel myself getting hard as she pushes her long dark hair behind her ears. Her lean legs seem to go on forever.

  “You can do a bit of everything, can’t you?” She smiles, sitting down on one of the stools at the counter. Fuck. One button on that damn shirt is done up. How the hell am I supposed to focus on this with her looking so fucking hot and adorable?

  “My mother would argue that.” I laugh. I can do things when I want to—when there is a reason, like trying to impress her. But I’m glad she doesn’t know about the pancake debacle.

  I serve breakfast and we eat in silence in the living room. She leans up against me, her knees folded and tucked under her. I watch the television, but all I can think about is her, and being inside her again.

  I’m gracious enough to wait until she finishes before I move her plate to the coffee table and lift her onto my lap.

  “Hey,” she laughs, reaching out to grip my shoulders for support.

  “This is my shirt,” I mutter, reaching for that one button that is holding it in place. I roll it between my fingers as she breathes in, her eyes locked on mine. Popping it open, I pull her toward me, taking a nipple in my mouth.

  “God,” she gasps, rolling her head back. Her body rocks against mine, which fuels my already raging hard-on.

  “I could touch you all day,” I say, my hands roaming over the softness of her skin. She shivers at my touch, her body on alert. I trail my finger down over her flat stomach, running it slowly over her entrance. “You like it when I touch you, Jill?”

  “Yes,” she whispers. Her nails dig into my shoulders as she braces herself. I slide one finger, then a second inside her. She’s so fucking wet that I can slide around with ease, rubbing and teasing her.

  “I’m close,” she pants. Her walls start to contract around my fingers. I bite down hard on a nipple and her pussy grips my fingers in a vise-like hold. Her head falls forward onto my chest as she starts shaking and moaning. That right there is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  We lay there on the floor, entwined in each other’s arms, neither of us in a hurry to move. I could stay like this all day.

  “Have you told anyone about us?” she asks suddenly, propping herself on her side.

  I glance at her, surprised by the question. “Just one of my friends, Danny. There isn’t really anyone else I can tell,” I reply honestly. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to, but with the whole me being a teacher thing . . .”

  She nods as if she understands, but I can see the sadness in her eyes. I get it, because I feel it too. I hate having to hide our relationship.

  “You?” I ask.

  She blushes. “Just my friend Alice. She’s at a boarding school in New York.”

  I nod and kiss her, my mouth pressing against hers. I don’t tell her that Dad knows, because at the moment it doesn’t feel relevant. I also know that she would be horrified that he’d told me to stop seeing her. A surge of anger hits me, and I pull away from her and sit up. She reaches out, her fingers touching my back, oblivious to my sudden change in mood.

  Forget about him. Focus on her. I can worry about everything else tomorrow.

  It’s nearly four in the afternoon and I know she has to go soon, before her Mom starts to wonder where she is. I’m reluctant to let her leave me, but I tell myself I’ll have her for two whole nights, and I plan to make the most of our alone time.

  “Go home and pack, okay?” I kiss her tenderly and her smile returns. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow before lunch.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” she asks.

  “I’ll probably go and see my father.” I can feel my mood change at the mention of his name. What a way to end a day like today; but I know I can’t keep putting it off. I have to talk to him eventually—for the sake of my sisters, at least.

  She studies me. “What went wrong between you two?”

  I sigh. Where do I start? There is so much wrong with our relationship that it’s ridiculous. The worst thing is I feel like I should just grow a pair and let it all go. Move on. But I can’t bring myself to forgive him. Saying it aloud to Jill will only confirm that.

  “We’d never been close.” I shrug. “Then he cheated on Mom, which sent her into a nervous breakdown. It took her years to recover.” I pause. “The kind man you know is not the same man I grew up with, and I was left to clean up his mess.”

  I lean over and tilt her head, pressing my lips against hers. I know how much she likes and respects my dad, and I refuse to ruin that for her, regardless of how I feel.

  “Wow, you guys have been through a lot,” she says.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” I retort. I roll over and face her, determined to change the subject off my father. The more we talk about him the more chance there is I’ll say something I might regret. “So, what are your plans tonight?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I kind of got roped into a party.”

  “You at a party?” I grin, my eyes twinkling. “Have you ever even been to a high school party?”

  “Of course I have.” She laughs. “I just find them boring. Everyone ends up drunk and passed out.”

  “That’s half the fun.” I smirk, thinking back to my own high school days.

  “Ugh. I’d much rather be at home reading a book.” She groans and I laugh.

  “Then why don’t you?”

  I don’t want to admit it, but I hate the thought of her at a party because I know what teenage boys are like—especially drunk ones. She’s a pretty girl, and I’ve seen the attention she gets, even if she doesn’t notice the way guys look at her.

  “Because I promised Sophia I’d go. She’s in one of my classes. French exchange student,” she explains, noting my blank expression. “She texted me last night, begging for me to come with her.”

  “You’re making friends. That’s good.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t need friends. I have Alice. And you. But she is nice
, and I feel bad for her. It must be hard being away from her family and friends.”

  “Does she remind you a little bit of you?” I ask.

  She laughs. “I guess she makes me realize how much I miss my father. Look at you, psychoanalyzing me.”

  “Yeah, because I’m in the position to be giving advice.” I laugh. “After I see Dad I might stop off and see a friend.”

  “Oh?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “The same friend you’ve spoken to about us?”

  I chuckle, enjoying her jealousy. “My best friend, Danny. He’s in Denver for a few weeks for the holidays. He’s really cool. Loads of fun. I think you two will get along great.”

  “Well, have fun.” She grins. Her eyes sparkle as she leans in to kiss me.

  I pull her into my lap and she laughs, her arms wrapping around my bare waist.

  “You have to let me go, unless you want my mother sending out a search party.”

  “No, I don’t want that. Are you sure I can’t drive you?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No, I have Mom’s car.”

  I kiss her roughly as color shades her cheeks.

  “Wow, you play rough, Mr. Anderson.”

  “I told you not to call me that,” I growl, my hand sliding under her shirt. “Don’t make me punish you.”

  “You’re not my teacher anymore, Mr. Anderson. I can call you whatever I like.” She laughs and stands up, combing her hair over her shoulder.

  How is she going to be when I tell her?

  “Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  ***

  Jules opens the door shortly after I knock. She frowns at me. “Wow. You’re here.”

  “Cut the attitude, Jules. You wanted me to visit him, and I am, okay?” I mumble.

  “I wanted you to visit him and want to do it,” she retorts, shaking her head. “Whatever. Come in. The kids have missed you.”

  As if on cue, Nicolas and Emma come bounding up the hall.

  “Eli!” they scream in unison. I roll my eyes as Jules shushes them, kneeling down to wrap my arms around them both.