When We Met

by A. L. Jackson

  Just like Blake had described theater. Just like he’d shown me by taking me to a couple of performances. Sure, one was a rock-and-roll gig, but it was still live—and completely exhilarating.

  And deep down, I wanted to experience that again—that unpredictable, unbridled sensation—all on my own.

  “This show would definitely be run on a much smaller scale,” I said. “Only one outfit change.”

  “Ah,” he said, looking at me appraisingly. “Still, I’m proud of you for even attempting to take it on.”

  I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. “Thanks.”

  He cleared his throat. “Let me see if I can round up some stray pieces of lumber.” He walked away, leaving me to catch my breath.

  When he reemerged, he said, “I don’t have enough here to make do. I can come back tomorrow night after a trip to the lumberyard. Sound reasonable?”

  “Absolutely. And thank you,” I said. His eyes seem to light up when I showed gratitude, which made me feel even more terrible about the kind of person he thought I’d been before.

  “Although . . .” I bowed my head, suddenly unsure of myself and this ridiculous new idea. I didn’t want to look him in the eye. “You’ve probably got other responsibilities you need to finally get back to. Like with your family.”

  “Not exactly,” he said hesitantly. “Besides, it’s been nice . . . keeping my mind occupied. I like being here.”

  I looked up and met his gaze and saw desire blazing in his indigo eyes. And it had been placed there by me, which was so hot. If I only had that one thing to take away at the end of this experience—that I’d turned this amazingly sexy guy on—that would be cool by me.

  “Tonight I can help hang those curtains in the front windows, if you want.”

  “That would be great.” I smoothed out the silky material that I’d just begun pressing. Thankfully Jaclyn had an extra steam machine in the back. It saved us time and a trip to the other store. “If you can start screwing in the brackets, I can hand you these when you’re ready.”

  He carried a stepladder to the front of the store, where all of the windows were covered with thick butcher paper, and got to work. After drilling holes in the wall, and screwing in the brackets, I passed him the rods that were draped with freshly hung curtains.

  Now all that was left was fixing them to my liking.

  Stepping down the ladder, he said, “I’ll trade places with you.”

  He held the ladder steady for me while I climbed halfway up the rungs. I gathered the material in my hands, trying to tie the one end while he watched from below.

  “Shoot, this side is stuck,” I said, trying to jiggle it loose from the strut.

  “Here, let me help.” He took a couple of steps up the ladder and placed his arms on either side of me to help pull the curtain off the nail. His chest was right up against my back, his lips near my ear, and I couldn’t help it; I let out a throaty sigh.

  “Chloe,” he said in a rough voice.

  I lowered my head in defeat and I could feel his jagged breaths against my hairline.

  “I know the other night was . . . fun,” he said. “But getting you out of my head during the day hasn’t been so easy.”

  My skin pebbled from his revelation.

  “Truth is—you turn me on so much. It’s hard not to think about . . . touching you again. For whatever that’s worth.”

  “Blake.” His lips skimmed across my neckline and I shivered from the contact. “I’ve . . . never been kissed like that before. For whatever that’s worth.”

  “Ah hell.” His voice was thick and husky, as if he were struggling with his last measure of control. The area between my legs prickled like it had short-circuited. “Chloe, what are we—”

  His sentence was effectively cut off by his phone ringing. He stepped down the ladder in a jerky motion. “It’s my brother. I need to take this.”

  After he answered, he listened attentively and then said through clenched teeth, “What about Mom picking you up?”

  He listened some more. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way. Tell your coach I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  We made eye contact, his eyes dark and stormy, before he turned and sprinted out the door. I just nodded; there was no need for further explanation. I knew he had other pressing responsibilities, no matter how much he tried ignoring them when he was here with me.

  My heart ached for what he was going through. But my body continued responding to what he’d admitted to me on the ladder.

  It took the next hour for my skin to stop prickling. And even longer for me to fall asleep that night.

  chapter nine

  Chloe

  “Truth or dare?” Blake asked casually as he sawed wood for the new runway structure. As if the response to that one question hadn’t already placed us in compromising positions.

  I took what had become the easier route tonight. “Truth.”

  Besides, it looked like there was something he had been working through in his mind. Maybe we finally needed to talk this crazy attraction thing through.

  “What you said last night, about never being kissed like that before . . . what did you mean?” he asked. “When was . . . the last time you had a boyfriend?”

  “In high school. He raked my name through the mud right after he wore me down to have sex with him.” I sighed. “I was a virgin and we did everything else for months. And then when I finally gave in, he dumped me and spread a bunch of rumors about me being an uptight prude.”

  “Damn,” he said. “What a bastard.”

  And then his eyes widened as realization seemed to sink in about what he’d said to me weeks earlier about having a stick up my ass. “Oh man, Chloe.”

  “It’s okay. Because it’s mostly been true,” I said, admitting to my own faults.

  “No. I’m sorry I had the wrong impression,” he said. “And I’m glad we got to know each other and became . . . friends.”

  “Me, too,” I said, relief spreading through my chest.

  “I know after our time here is done . . . we won’t see very much of each other.” He paused and swallowed. My heart strained painfully. I was desperate to ask him why not, but then I remembered my rule about focusing on college and my career. I was the one who pretended not to be associated with him whenever I saw the women from my mother’s circle, after all.

  Besides, if he affected my brain this much only from a kiss, what kind of mess would I be if we tried dating? Not that he was saying he wanted to.

  “But if you ever need anything . . . ,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I mean, the way you transformed this space is amazing and I know you have a great career ahead of you.”

  “Well, you certainly helped,” I said. “I couldn’t have done it without you. But . . . thank you.”

  We were silent for a bit and then I said, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

  His cheeks lifted into a small smile. “Truth.”

  “Girlfriends?” I asked.

  “Not really. My first love from high school pretty much stomped on my heart, and since then, I’ve just been dating here and there,” he said. “But I also have a lot of responsibility on me right now. So I guess I don’t really have the time or energy to dedicate to it.”

  And there it was. He had his reasons laid out as well. “Well, I definitely understand that.”

  “Have you dated anyone . . . since . . . ?” He stared into my eyes. “I mean, when was the last time you . . . you know, a guy made you feel good?”

  “Um . . . not sure.” My breaths sputtered out. “I’ve been with a few guys. But it’s . . . been a while.”

  “Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes closed as if painfully trying to restrain himself.

  “What . . . what about you?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer. But also to keep him talking, because I was about to become a puddle on the floor from watching him alone. “When’s the last time a girl . . .”

  His gaze blazed into mine and then he took
a step closer—so close he could’ve reached out and pulled me into his arms, if he’d wanted.

  “Made me feel good?” he muttered. “The other night . . . with you.”

  “God, Blake . . .” My head rolled back and my breath became fluttery. “What are you saying? We didn’t do anything besides kiss.”

  “But I went home knowing how your skin and your lips felt against mine and that . . . almost satisfied my fantasies for the night.”

  A whimper burst from my lips. “You’re not the only one.”

  His eyes widened and he moved even nearer.

  His fingers slipped up my arms, making the hairs stand on end. “Truth or dare, Chloe?”

  As we stared each other down, I couldn’t have answered any other way even if I tried.

  “Dare,” I whispered. My heart was pounding against my rib cage.

  “I . . . dare . . . you . . . to close your eyes.” He paused and waited for me to slide them shut. Then I felt his warm air against my lips. “And just feel.”

  I gasped and my lids fluttered open.

  “Keep them shut.” His voice was like a command and I responded by slamming my eyes closed.

  My body began trembling. I was craving him—craving his touch. My heart was in my throat as I waited to see—to feel—what he was about to do.

  Also because it was very difficult for me to give up this amount of control.

  “You’re so pretty,” he said as his hands wrapped around the back of my neck and his lips grazed my throat. “Let me make you feel good.”

  It was a foreign feeling to have my eyes closed to the surrounding world and just experience someone’s touch. His lips closed around my ear and I felt emboldened and alive, much like that night at the club. As his fingers slinked down my arms to my waist, I pressed my chest against his. My nipples were erect and my breasts felt dense and full.

  As if he’d taken the hint, his thumbs brushed across my buds and I sighed in relief.

  His fingers traveled beneath my shirt to my bare skin. “Do you like when I touch you here?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Please.”

  He groaned, and just as his hands fully cupped my breasts, his mouth captured mine in a bruising kiss. His tongue slashed past my lips as his finger moved across my back to unhook my bra.

  “So sexy.” In one swift motion he lifted off my shirt and then tugged off my bra. I stood before him naked from the waist up. “God, Chloe . . . you look amazing.”

  I kept my eyes clenched tight. It was easier that way. If I opened them, I might’ve chickened out.

  His mouth kissed and licked down my throat to my collarbone. “Can I keep touching you?”

  I nodded and then suddenly had a moment of unnerving uncertainty. The last measure of my control crumbling. “Can anybody see us?”

  “The windows are covered, remember?” His mouth swiftly moved down and captured one of my nipples—maybe in order to keep my mind off the previous subject. “You’re safe with me.”

  My knees nearly buckled from the sensation of his hot mouth on my skin. When he moved to the other side, I moaned and grasped at his hair. I didn’t remember ever being this turned on in my entire life. I ground my hips against him, needing to get closer.

  “Ah hell,” he blurted out, and then slowly backed me against the wall. The brick felt cool against my fiery skin. All I could hear was the distant sound of the traffic buzzing by on the street and his heavy breaths at my neck. I felt secluded, protected, and unbelievably stimulated.

  As his hand hovered on the button of my jeans, his lips found my ear. “Can I touch you everywhere?”

  I was momentarily petrified, my knees quivering, but that gave way to my blazing arousal. All I could do was nod—my body was so bombarded by sensation.

  I whimpered as he unzipped my jeans and then his hand slipped down the front of my underwear. I was so completely wet and nearly mortified that he’d soon discover that.

  “Oh damn,” he grunted out in a tortured voice. “You’re so turned on, aren’t you?”

  “Completely,” I said, letting go of any shame.

  He pushed my jeans to my knees and then his fingers nudged inside the edges of my underwear. “Did I do this to you?”

  I was shuddering and panting. “Yes.”

  He swore as his fingers found my center and the sensation was like being suspended off the edge of a cliff. My heart was thrashing and my pelvis was pulsing and all I wanted was to take that leap of faith. With him.

  A low growl emitted from his throat and the sound was so visceral I almost let go right then and there. Almost. But still I hovered over the precipice of my own orgasm, nearly embarrassed by how long it had been and how easily I was giving up control from the simple brush of Blake’s fingers.

  “Have you been thinking about me in bed at night—like I’ve been thinking of you?”

  I quavered as his fingers continued brushing over my nub and then slipped firmly inside me. “Every . . . single . . . night.”

  He groaned and sucked expertly on my nipples. “This moment, right here with you, is my fantasy come true.”

  “Oh God . . . Blake.” There was an upsurge deep in my belly, like sparks sending a heated footpath up and down my legs and then biting at my center.

  All it took was another swipe of his thumb for me to fully and completely detonate. He grasped on to my waist as I shook and mumbled and kept my eyelids firmly shut.

  Blake kissed my neck and ear and lips as I became more fully aware of myself and my surroundings. With my lids still closed, mortification began to bear down. I was basically naked, up against a wall with Blake—in my employer’s place of business.

  “Open your eyes,” Blake whispered against my lips.

  I did so, reluctantly. I found him staring at me in wonder, his eyes bright and clear.

  His thumb traced against my throat. “You’re beautiful.”

  chapter ten

  Blake

  It’d been a miserable day. That morning, I’d found my mother passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of wine hidden in the wastebasket. When I began rummaging around, I also found vodka hidden in the back of the cupboard above the stove.

  I stood over the sink dumping the contents of the bottle as a storm of emotions swirled inside me: shock, anger, and defeat.

  After I drove my brother to school, I nudged my mom awake. “Have you started drinking again?”

  “Don’t you dare accuse me of anything,” she snapped.

  But then I held up two empty bottles of vodka and immediately saw a flash of mortification in her eyes, before her face fell into her hands. As the realization sank in that she’d been caught and had most certainly fallen off the wagon, she began blubbering and mumbling incoherently.

  We’d been here before. Several times. But the sting of it was no less wounding. Though I was beginning to become numb to this feeling of loss I’d experienced practically my entire life, this time was particularly painful, because we had come so far and I had given up so much to get here.

  It was always so difficult to hear my mother’s gut-wrenching sobs.

  I handed over her cell phone and encouraged her to call her sponsor and attend an AA meeting today. “The counselor said this could happen, Mom. It’ll be okay. You just have to do the work to get to a good place again.”

  “I will,” she said, not meeting my eye. “I promise.”

  • • •

  I was so distracted at the construction site that I cut my finger with a putty knife. Thankfully it was Friday and I was supposed to meet Chloe tonight to put the final touches on the runway.

  That girl had somehow gotten under my skin. I couldn’t get her out of my fucking head. The noises she made when my fingers were inside her. I could get used to that sound every night. Damn, I was already beginning to miss her, knowing that this might be one of our last nights together.

  I went home to shower and change after work and made sure my brother had gotten to his buddy’s house f
or the night. There’d been a note from my mother that she was out with her sponsor and would be attending her second meeting of the day. Still I wondered why she hadn’t answered her phone or responded to my text, so I drove past her favorite watering hole on the way to meet Chloe.

  When I didn’t find her car parked anywhere nearby, I blew out a breath of relief even though something still felt off. Dread had settled dead center in my chest, and my fingers trembled on the steering wheel as I imagined what I might find when I got home later that night.

  The moment I stepped into the store, Chloe took one look at me and her jaw went slack. She could sense something was wrong, which didn’t surprise me—anxiety was pressing in on me from all sides. We had been in this confined space together for weeks and had come to know each other’s moods. Why I thought I could gloss over my feelings tonight was beyond me.

  “Blake.” She’d begun staining the runway black, but now she set her brush down and approached me cautiously. She wore hip-hugging skinny jeans with a vintage ABBA T-shirt. Her blond hair was loose from her usual dainty clip, the curls framing her face, and damn, she looked sexy. “Talk to me.”

  I momentarily shut my eyes and shook my head. For a second I was afraid she’d think it was something she’d done, but I was pretty certain she realized it had to do with something else. “No. I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

  “Please,” she said, stepping closer. “I want to help.”

  “You can’t help. Nobody can,” I said, feeling a flash of frustration. “It’s just . . . things are a mess again.”

  “Your mom?” Her voice was low and careful.

  I scrubbed my fingers over my face. “Yeah.”

  She moved behind me, her fingers reaching for my shoulders. “You’re so tense.”

  Then her hands began working some kind of magic by deftly massaging my neck and my shoulders. My arms braced the wall in front of me and I let out a moan.

  “Feel good?” she said.

  “Yeah.” I rolled my neck back against her fingers. “Thank you.”