Glitter on the Web

by Ginger Voight

  “Probably nothing but dirt weed in Texas,” he dismissed. “Take it slow. It’ll be okay.”

  He placed the smooth black tip of the vaporizer cartridge between my lips. I watched him mime what to do and I mimicked it. He withdrew the vaporizer before I could take too much. I still coughed, but not like before. Like he had promised, there was really no smell, and the taste of pine lingered almost pleasantly behind.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I vocalized. “Am I supposed to feel something? Should I take more?”

  “Slowly,” he said. “It may take a few minutes.”

  I took another hit, which again he managed for me so I didn’t take too much. I pursed my lips. “Still nothing.”

  He sat me down on the big bed. “Like I said, it may take a few minutes.” He watched my face as we waited. “How’s your ankle?”

  “It aches,” I admitted.

  He pulled my leg into his lap. He untied my shoe and gently removed it, then peeled the sock from my foot. His warm, strong hands cupped my foot to massage it gently. I leaned back on my palms, just letting go to the feeling. Suddenly I felt as though I was flying. I thought maybe it was because his hands were on my body, but I knew in an instant that had little to do with it. “I think someone just putted my brain to Mars.”

  He chuckled as he kept massaging my foot. “Good ol’ Jack Herrer. He’ll never let you down.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Unlike the sedative effect of the hydrocodone, I felt energized, like someone had tickled my brain until it had finally awakened all the way. A warm rush of pleasure shot through my body, pooling around my ankle, which—almost miraculously—didn’t hurt at all after several minutes. I could tell the ache remained, but it was like an echo of what it was before. I flexed my foot and wiggled my toes. “That’s amazing,” I breathed.

  He turned to face me. “Told you. Trust me now?”

  “Not at all,” I said before I could stop myself. Jack Herrer had not only flipped off my pain switch, he’d flipped off my inner editor. The thought was in my brain and then it was out my mouth.

  He was hardly offended. Instead he chuckled softly and leaned forward on one hand. “I could tell right away how smart you were, Sunshine.”

  I couldn’t stop the giggle even if I wanted to. “Just how did I end up with that nickname, anyway?”

  He touched a tendril of my hair, which still sported blonde highlights. “Your hair. Your smile. Your light,” he said as he searched my face. “How could you be anything but?”

  Again, I couldn’t stop myself. “Are compliments part of your hourly rate?”

  He just smiled. “Like I told you…the first taste is free.”

  He leaned forward and I gasped as his lips found mine. They were soft and full, applying firm pressure as he toyed with my lips, nudging them apart gently. Heat exploded in my belly as his tongue traced my lips, teasing me, coyly coaxing me to deepen the kiss. It would have to be me, I knew.

  And just like he promised, every sensation had been turned up to eleven. My scalp tingled. My heart raced. My skin hummed. It was pure pleasure. I could only imagine what he had in store. I scooted closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. He responded to the hunger in my kiss appropriately, giving just enough to make me want more.

  Oddly, I thought of Eli.

  I couldn’t tell you why I thought of Eli.

  Eli was the last person I wanted to think about.

  And yet there he was, in my brain. Like a fungus.

  I couldn’t help but compare the two men. The differing shape of their lips. The different taste of their mouths. Their personal kissing technique. Use of tongue. Level of moisture. Once again I felt like an Olympic judge as I compared the two.

  The thought was so preposterous that I began to laugh. I began to laugh really hard. In my first true case of “the giggles,” I had to break away from Caz just to be able to breathe. I felt horrible, like the rudest person on earth. I tried to apologize through the laughter. “I’m so sorry,” I said, before dissolving into another fit of giggles. “You’re a great kisser,” I promised. “A solid 10 at least.” I couldn’t even sit up anymore. I fell over, holding my stomach as I laughed so hard it was like a physical relief.

  A laugh-gasm, if you will.

  Caz just observed with that half-smirk, which made the whole thing even funnier. I could barely breathe. I very nearly wet myself. It took long minutes for the giggles to subside. Caz lay down next to me, propping himself up on one arm. “Feel better?”

  Tears ran down my face. “Wow. I can’t believe how much I needed that.” I turned to face him. “I’m so sorry. That was so rude.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “That’s the risk you run when you deflower a virgin.”

  He wore a shameless grin as he said it, and it started the whole process all over again. “I so saw this afternoon going another way,” I admitted as I tried finally to pull myself together, wiping more tears of laughter from my eyes.

  “This was what you really needed,” he said. “I’m happy I could give it to you.” Our eyes met and held. “How’s your ankle?”

  With a start I realized that I had forgotten all about it. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. At all,” I added, in shock.

  He nodded and stood, reaching out his hand to me. “Good. Then it’s time.”

  “For what?”

  He grinned. “Your workout.”

  My eyes widened. “You were serious about that?”

  “I’m always serious about fitness,” he grinned, pulling me into his arms. “But there’s one thing we need to do first,” he said, his eyes focusing on my mouth.

  “Wh-what’s that?”

  His commanding voice welcomed no argument. “We’re going to throw away the rest of your pain pills.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Caz was right. I didn’t need the pain pills anymore. He worked me out on the treadmill for a good thirty minutes, and it didn’t fatigue my ankle at all, even with an incline. He didn’t make another move towards me the rest of the afternoon, but who could blame him? I had turned into Laughy McLaugherson during our first make-out session. Why risk another?

  By the time he left, I no longer felt the “high.” I was mellow and relaxed, and delightfully pain-free. I decided to make dinner that night, and I decided to go all out making a pot roast. This, I figured, was a result of “the munchies.” I nearly bought half of the snack aisle in the store, and ate nearly a whole bag of chips on the way home.

  When Eli walked in the door a little after eight o’clock that evening, the entire house smelled homey and inviting. He wore a big grin as he walked around the island, where I put finishing touches on the meal, with Beau Jangles weaving around my feet, begging for scraps. “Smells yummy, Ma.”

  I giggled. “Thanks, Pa.”

  “What sparked this fit of domesticity?”

  I shrugged. “I had a good day.”

  He nabbed a bite of pot roast, which he savored on his tongue.

  His tongue, I thought. Why am I thinking about Eli Blake’s tongue?!

  “I think I like it when you have good days,” he winked. I felt myself blush like an idiot.

  “How was your day?” I asked, possibly for the first time ever.

  “It was good. Not ‘make a pot roast’ good, but not too bad. Maybe I’ll make dessert.”

  I grinned. “Too late.” I indicated to the three layer chocolate cake I had made, full of decadent fudgy icing. I poured a glass of wine and handed it to him.

  Because it was a big meal, we ate dinner in the formal dining room that night. The sunset had painted the sky all kinds of crazy colors, giving us a spectacular ocean view as night fell. We talked about the things we always talked about. His music, the club, Tempestuous. I hardly heard a word, though. My eyes kept falling to those full, sensual lips of his, which gave him a permanent kissable pout. The fire in my belly kept trying to roar to life, about four hours too late to do anything about it.

  With Caz I
could play the wanton seductress. With Eli I had to be smart. This was no relationship, not for real, and I knew it. And even if it was any kind of relationship, I knew I didn’t want it anyway. I had been down this road before, with the battle scars to prove it. Clearly it was the marijuana. It had flipped a few switches in my brain. I hadn’t had sex in a while. My mental garbage was collecting, clouding my cognitive process. Caz and Eli were a lot alike. Of course my newly drug-addled brain would confuse the two.

  It took me a minute to realize that the conversation had stalled. Eli sat at the other end of the table, absently stroking his wine glass with one finger, watching me trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts. Finally he said, “Someone is lost in thought. Care to draw me a map so I can join you?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing important,” I dismissed as I stood to gather the plates. “Just thinking maybe I’d take a soak in the hot tub before bed.”

  Bed? Why did I say bed?!

  “A fine idea,” he announced, standing as well. He took the plates from my hands. “Give me twenty minutes to do the dishes and I’ll join you.”

  My eyes widened, but I could hardly protest. His home, his house rules. Why shouldn’t he share a soak with me? It wasn’t like we hadn’t done it before.

  This made me think of Hawaii, and the sensual lap dance I had given him under the stars. I shivered slightly before I disappeared into the bedroom, to change into my swimsuit. I also grabbed the vaporizer for a few quick puffs. Hopefully history would repeat itself should Eli try to get frisky. I’d dissolve into laughter and he would drop the seduction before it even got started.

  The longer it took him to get to the patio, the more nervous I grew.

  I knew my concerns were fully founded when he finally emerged from the bedroom door, dressed only in a towel, which he dropped right before climbing in. Once again he was completely naked.

  “Eli,” I chastised.

  “What?” he asked, all innocently. “It’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen before. Right?” His eyes dropped to my chest. “Same could be said for me.”

  I shook my head and laid it back against the headrest. “Don’t you ever stop?”

  “Can’t afford to,” he murmured. “Bad things happen when I grow complacent.”

  There was something ominous in his tone. It made me open one eye to peer at him. “What does that mean?”

  He shrugged as he sat a little closer. “Just, how did you put it? Talking out of my ass?” His voice fell a notch lower. “So tell me all about your great day.”

  I shrugged. “Just had a good day is all. Productive day at the club. Good ankle day,” I added.

  “Good orgasm day?” he asked quietly, and my eyes shot open. He continued. “I went to FFF to take you for a late lunch, but they told me you already left. So I came home to find you.”

  I held my breath as he scooted closer.

  “Imagine my surprise when I saw a strange car in the driveway.”

  “Eli,” I started, but he wasn’t done.

  “Were you aware your afternoon delight had vanity plates?” My eyes widened to indicate that, in fact, I did not know that. Though he didn’t need to, he went on. “I know Caz was here, Carly. And I know how long he stayed. Given I’ve seen few episodes of his show, I have a pretty good idea why he’d linger.”

  “Eli,” I started again, and he propped himself in front of me, a hand on either side of my shoulders.

  “Then I come home to the picture of domestic bliss, like all of your stress had magically melted away, like some Victorian wife whose doctor had used a vibrator to cure her hysteria.” His eyes fell to my mouth. “So tell me, Carly. What made your day so fucking good?”

  “It’s not what you think,” I swore, and it made his jaw clench in anger. After his Valentine’s Day Boo Boo, I felt that was a bit unfair. And since I was now flying along with Jack Herrer, I told him so. “And even if it was, don’t you think you owe me one?”

  His fingers clamped down on my shoulder. “Do you realize how that could fuck up everything? That guy has a reality show about his life as a goddamn gigolo. You really think he’s capable of being discreet? What if PING saw that car in our driveway? If it all blows to shit, he still gets a huge push in the media. It’s a total win for him. But it would screw us over, Carly. We’ve worked too hard to get here. We’re on the right track. The sales for my last CD have kept it in the top ten. The club’s opening promises to be phenomenal, and with all the fame you’ve thrown their way, Tempestuous could keep you on whether or not you’re with me. You’ve got everything you could ever want. Why would you throw that all away to be some notch on a playboy’s bedpost?”

  I grew angrier by the minute. “I have no fucking idea,” I spat before I grabbed the towel and tried to move around him.

  His fingers bit into my wrist. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  My eyes flashed as I faced him. “I’m not?”

  He pulled me to his rigid body and kissed me hard. It was a punishing kiss. A desperate kiss. And I wasn’t laughing. In fact, I ached. This wasn’t like the pain in my ankle, which would fatigue easily with overuse as I fought to grain my mobility back. I ached in my mind. I ached in my heart. I ached in my spirit. I ached for something I couldn’t even articulate. I felt hollow, and I just wanted to feel full again.

  His tongue forced its way between my lips, eradicating all memory of Caz before him. I knew that was the objective. He could do that, too, because as much as I did not want to admit it, Eli Blake was a phenomenal kisser. It was as if time itself slowed to a stop whenever his lips met mine. It always had. Even from that first damned kiss he stole in January.

  His hand grabbed my chin before trailing off into my hair. He tugged it hard, to bend my neck back, until I was practically choking on his tongue. It was as if he couldn’t get close enough, and he was punishing me for it.

  And as much as I wanted to hate him, as much as I wanted to hate it, I found myself clinging to him, kissing him back. If only this had happened four hours before, when I was in the arms of a man who wanted to be with me.

  But no. My traitorous body responded to this asshole instead. Eli Blake, the one person in the world who didn’t kiss me because he wanted to kiss me, but because he needed to win.

  With what little virtue I had left, I pulled myself away. We were breathless as we stared at each other. Finally he spoke.

  “Well, at least I know now you’re telling the truth.” Off my look he said, “There’s no way you could kiss me like that if he had fucked you. You’re still hungry,” he decided. “I’m suddenly very curious to know for what.”

  Without a word, I climbed out of the hot tub and stomped into the house. I took a long, frigid shower, to rid myself of these horrible, treasonous thoughts and responses. I was afraid what might happen if I found Eli in bed waiting for me, but as it turned out I didn’t have to worry about it.

  Eli wasn’t in bed when I emerged from the bathroom.

  He wasn’t home at all.

  He left and stayed gone all night long.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I finally went to sleep around daybreak. It was the first time since I started taking it that I missed the hydrocodone, and wondered if that was the reason I couldn’t get to sleep.

  That had to be the reason. There could be no other reason.

  I didn’t get much of a chance for any shuteye, however. By eight o’clock, Eli entered the room, humming his new song to himself, as he placed a tray of breakfast on the bed. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said with a deceptively sunny smile.

  I regarded him cautiously as I sat up. “Where were you?”

  He sat on the bed beside me. “Why? Were you worried?”

  I glared at him. “Or maybe I was just worried you torpedoed all the progress we made, especially after you made it such a point to reprimand me for risking something like that.”

  He chuckled. “Tell yourself whatever you need to, darlin’. It’s your cons
cience. Not mine.”

  I crossed my arms in front of me, stubbornly refusing his … well, what I could only suppose was his peace offering.

  I was wrong.

  He pulled out the contract that I had signed when I agreed to this farce in the first place. “Consider this our relationship constitution,” he said as he handed it to me. “Binding in all fifty states. And Puerto Rico. And maybe Guam.”

  I narrowed my gaze as I referred to the part of the contract that he had marked with an arrow sticky note. “By signing this document, I, the undersigned, agree to maintain appearances of a mutually satisfactory relationship as dictated by the current standard of such in our culture.”

  “What does this mean?” I asked.

  “You can’t cheat,” he answered instantly. “If you get caught with anybody else, it nullifies the contract and you owe me every cent of that original million. That means no matter how he gets your motor revved, you can’t fuck Caz Bixby until January of next year. I’d mark my calendar if I were you.”

  I fumed. He had the audacity to shame me after staying out all night? “And what about you?”

  He shrugged. “You can fuck me all you want to. Frankly I’m surprised you don’t.”

  “I meant,” I gritted through clenched teeth, “where is your provision to stay faithful?”

  “Don’t have one,” he announced happily. “I didn’t sign the contract. You did.”

  I wanted to turn over the tray and dump all the food onto the floor. I resisted, but barely. “So I get to be the monogamous girlfriend while you can whore yourself out to every woman in town?”

  He thought about that a moment before he nodded. “Something like that. Again like most married couples I know. Should we fly to Vegas and make it official?”

  “Fuck you,” I hissed as I shoved the tray aside.

  “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” he said. But it wasn’t teasing this time. There was a hard glint in his eye, almost as if he dared me.

  “I told you I didn’t cheat on you,” I snapped.