Five Years

by Brooklyn Knight

  Aaron smiled and ran his hand over my sheathed shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him head for the bar and turned back to where Maverick was standing, talking to the blonde; but suddenly, he was walking around her and heading in my direction.

  Each of my organs seized and my mind went blank, but I pulled myself together and started in the opposite direction.

  It only took Maverick a few strides to reach me, and when he did, he took me by the arm, stopping me in my tracks.

  “It was only a matter of time,” he said, brows drawn into a straight line.

  I shook my head, trying to make sense of what he’d said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Before one of these assholes made a move on you. I’ve been watching them watch you all night.”

  “Why on earth would you think that guy is interested in me? We were talking about the artwork.”

  Maverick’s eyes rolled.

  I eased out of his torching hold and lifted my chin. “Well, it’s not like you haven’t been occupied,” I came back, greener than spinach. “It seems as if you’ve garnered the attention of a nice catch, but that’s not a surprise. Who knows? Perhaps the two of you will make a perfect match.”

  Maverick frowned and narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m interested in that woman?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?” I asked flicking my hair.

  “Because she’s me ex and there’s a reason for that.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I claimed. “She’s gorgeous. I mean, look at her.” I tipped my lifted chin in her direction.

  She was peering at us, giving me a dangerous once-over, as if I was competition she needed to eliminate.

  “She’s the epitome of beauty. She belongs on a magazine cover.”

  “So do you,” he muttered. His eyes traveled over my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “You look amazing, Amaris,” he whispered. “You stole my breath the minute you walked into the gallery.”

  Was he serious? I was wearing a tent. I’d specifically chosen it, knowing he’d be here tonight, though in truth, the only sexy thing I owned was what Nichola had sent to my apartment for that botched blind date.

  Still, my chest hitched.

  “I don’t want that woman,” he asserted in a firm whisper.

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Because I want you.” His answer was quick and precise.

  I swallowed and straightened my shoulders, trying to stop my eyelashes from fluttering like the wings of crazed butterflies. “You can’t have me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Of course I was sure. Had never been… more sure about anything in my entire life, yet my lack of response allowed for an ill-defined silence that had me confused.

  Aaron was returning holding two drinks in what looked like strong, capable hands. “He’s coming back.” I said. I was talking to myself.

  “Which means?”

  “That you should leave and go back to the woman who’s stabbing me with the daggers shooting from her eyes,” I nipped in response.

  His lips flattened. “You’re leaving with him?”

  I balked. “Of course not, I – ” I cut off the explanation. The fact that Maverick was aware of my virgin status was both mortifying and unnecessary. “That’s honestly none of your business,” I reconsidered my response.

  He glared at me and nodded, just as Aaron arrived and handed me my Long Island Iced Tea.

  Despite my request, Maverick didn’t leave. Instead he stood there, unyielding and resolute, glaring at Aaron.

  I grabbed the drink and took a sloppy sip before saying: “Maverick, this is Aaron.”

  Aaron smiled, but it shook on his face. “A pleasure to meet you, man,” he said. He held out his free hand, but Maverick only looked at it, expression neutral, like Aaron was a peasant.

  After a long, awkward pause, Maverick finally responded, and I released the breath I’d been holding. Then he turned to me. “I’ll let the two of you enjoy the rest of the exhibit,” he said. “Amaris, I’ll talk to you later, right?”

  In another three months, maybe. If I had anything to do with it, I’d avoid him for that long or longer.

  But Maverick didn’t give me a chance to answer. He turned on his expensive heel and reunited with the Malibu Barbie waiting for him like a faithful dog.

  Aaron’s brows drew. “He’s intense.”

  “He is,” I agreed, still staring after him.

  “Must be the red hair.”

  We laughed.

  Mine was half-hearted.

  “Is he your ex? Dude seemed a little pissed to see us together.”

  “He’s not my ex,” I choked out, miffed at the very thought. “He’s a… friend.”

  Aaron chuckled and took a sip of his beverage. “Seems like he wants out of the friend-zone.”

  Aaron wasted no time changing the subject. He started talking about his job and his hobbies. I was certain it was interesting information, but I could barely pay attention. I was focused on Maverick.

  The woman was smiling up in his face. She even placed a kiss on his cheek, but it was so close to his mouth, there was no doubt she’d caught the corner.

  What the hell was my problem? This was the way it was supposed to be: me engaging a handsome, eligible man who wasn’t my client, and Maverick engaging an attractive woman who wasn’t his therapist.

  My intellect attempted to reinforce these salient points, but my heart…

  I didn’t stay at the show for an hour. In fact, I barely made thirty minutes. When I could take no more, I bid Aaron goodbye and headed for the exit. It was only when I was out of the building, that the burn from Maverick’s brown eyes started to fade away.

  12

  Amaris

  After Nichola’s art show, at an hour that was highly unacceptable, my cell phone rang with a number I didn't recognize illuminating the screen. It wasn’t the CCDS hotline, which meant it wasn’t a crisis call.

  I could safely ignore it.

  But I didn’t want to.

  The number was unfamiliar, but I knew exactly who would be on the other line, and against my better judgement, I answered. “Hello?”

  A heavy breath.

  My heart produced an unnatural palpitation, and my vagina released moisture.

  “We need to talk,” Maverick said.

  No salutation.

  No introductory phrase.

  Only that single, breathy suggestion. Not suggestion: command.

  “Talk about what?” I bit out. Damn, I was still in my feelings. But why? This man was off limits. There was no way I should have any feelings for him.

  “About how I won’t last for four and a half years, feeling the way I felt tonight,” he admitted. “I’m not used to feeling… jealous.”

  “You were jealous?”

  “Yes. And desperate, more desperate than I have ever been in my entire life.” He paused, as if the sensations made him curious. “I was completely out of my element tonight, Amaris. Seeing you with another man was more than I could stand. I won’t survive if I see shit like that,” he admitted in a hush. “It didn’t make me feel good at all.”

  I threw my head back on the pillow. “Maverick, why are we having this conversation? You already know that nothing can happen between us,” I said.

  “I know,” he agreed, “but it doesn’t negate the fact that something could happen between us.”

  “Be careful, your aggression is showing,” I warned him; but the truth was, his aggression was making my panties wet.

  Maverick chuckled, deep and dark, which drew more essence out of me. “It’s confidence, sweetheart. We’ve had this conversation already as well. Besides, you know what I’m saying is true.”

  “It’s not true.”

  He sighed. “Amaris, I saw the look on your face when you thought I was engaging another woman.”

  “You have every right to engage whomever you like.”

  “I do,” h
e agreed, “but are you really going to suggest that the thought didn’t get to you? Even a little?”

  My mouth pinched. I was trying not to ask the next question, but it flew out of my mouth. “Did you take the Barbie Doll home?”

  “No.” He paused. “Did you fuck that asshole Aaron?”

  “Of course not!” I balked. “I told you, I’m a – ”

  “Virgin.”

  Silence.

  “Are you serious, Mary? You’ve… never been intimate with anyone?”

  I wet my lips, which had dried out the minute I answered the phone.

  “I made out with a guy once,” I confessed. “I was sixteen. It didn’t go well.”

  “What happened?”

  I swallowed. “When he tried to put his penis into my vagina, it hurt so bad, I screamed for him to stop. The next day at school, he told all of his friends that he had fucked the Christian girl, and people started giving me dirty looks.”

  Maverick exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the emotions building in my chest. “What do you want, Maverick? It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

  “I want to talk. I told you that,” he said.

  “And you couldn’t wait until a more suitable time to call?” Then I thought of something else. “How did you even get my number?”

  “Nichola. I’ve had it for three months, but I was trying to hold off, let some time pass.”

  I cursed as the sound of him shifting passed my ears. Suddenly images of him lying, completely naked, in a custom bed with expensive sheets, sailed into my mind.

  “Can we please set some ground rules?” he requested in a whisper.

  “Ground rules?”

  “I have just under five years to go before I get a real chance at you. I was hoping we could set some parameters.”

  “Are you serious?” I scoffed.

  “Completely.”

  “The ground rules have already been set for us,” I reminded him.

  “Loosely,” he responded. “There's room for customization.”

  “Why…” My throat was thick so I swallowed. “Why me?” I asked him again, “seriously? There are so many other women out there. I’m commonplace, Maverick. I’m not exotic, or fancy, or any of the things you may be used to.”

  “Stop,” he ordered. “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Comparing yourself to other women. You’re right. I’m surrounded by beautiful females every day. They throw themselves at me. They beg for my attention, but you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, and I want you.”

  My eyes took to stinging.

  “If you’re gonna find fault with who you are, do it when I’m not around.”

  A pause, and then I said: “Okay.”

  He sighed. “Can we be honest with each other?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “For five minutes.”

  I groaned.

  “Amaris…”

  “Four!”

  “Fine. Start a timer.”

  I hissed through my teeth and accessed the timer on my cell phone. Then I switched back over to the conversation. “Go.”

  He started without delay. “I want you. Like a lot.”

  That much was clear.

  “Do you want me?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to answer that?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “Truthfully.”

  Silence.

  ‘A proper young lady never tells a man how she truly feels about him. He’ll use it to his advantage.’

  I scratched my neck. My chest felt like it was about to explode. “Maybe,” I spat, then I paused, sensing that the answer would be too vague for his liking. “Yes,” I whispered harshly, afraid that if I said it too loud, the ethical gods – and my mama – would hear it and send bolts of lightning into my bedroom.

  “Mmm…”

  My vagina tightened.

  “Do you think about me?” His voice was getting lower and lower.

  I rocked my head from side to side. “Sometimes.”

  He waited.

  “Most times,” I adjusted my answer. “More than I damn-well should.”

  “That’a girl,” he murmured in approval.

  I chewed the inside of my bottom lip and released a question I had no right asking. “Do you… think about me?”

  “Every fucking day, Amaris. Every night.”

  My heart lurched.

  He continued. “Do you imagine what it would be like for us to make love?”

  What? There was no way I would answer that question. I’d already trespassed the boundaries and broken a million moral and ethical codes. If I told Maverick how almost every night since that kiss I’d touched my vagina and made myself come to images of him filling me up with his penis, it would be too much information.

  I was trying to stall, waiting for the timer to strike zero, but Maverick pressured me.

  “Amaris…”

  “I uh…”

  Suddenly the timer went off, delivering me from the anxiety-provoking truth session.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, and I laughed, victorious.

  “Four Minutes of Truth in the history books,” I said, grinning. “And for your information, that’s the first and last time we’ll be doing anything like that!”

  He grunted. “A deal’s a deal and you upheld your end of the bargain,” he acknowledged. “Thank you for being honest with me. To know that these feelings are mutual, excites me.”

  “I didn’t say they were mutual.”

  “You most certainly did.”

  I swallowed, and Maverick’s tone turned serious.

  “Can we set some ground rules, Mary?” he asked again. “If you’re not on board, I promise I’ll leave it alone.”

  I sighed.

  Maverick Dangerfield was losing his mind, but apparently so was I because I was considering his suggestion. Like, seriously considering it.

  He was right. If he was hell-bent on waiting out five years, there was no way him nor I could experience the intense emotions we'd felt earlier.

  I’d been green with envy when I thought that woman had his undivided attention, as if the thought of him rocking another woman’s world was too much to bear. I didn’t want to be thinking about him in this way, but my mind was on auto-pilot. I was the one floundering like a fish out of water. Never in my professional life had I developed feelings for a former client.

  And they were so strong, it had me wondering what the hell he was doing to me.

  Still, I was only fooling myself if I continued to deny the attraction.

  Rule-breaker. Risk taker.

  Aaron’s words echoed in my warring mind.

  That mantra totally went against anything my mother had raised me to believe. According to the Bible, the preferred way was the straight and narrow one, but at thirty-one years old, the bends were intriguing…

  Ground rules might not be a bad idea.

  “I’m… open to hearing them,” I admitted carefully.

  “I’ll take that,” he replied. “Ground rule number one: no fucking, unless it's with each other.”

  My cooch clenched at the mere suggestion. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m actually not.”

  My neck jerked forward. “You’re actually agreeing not to have sex with anyone else? For five years?”

  “Mm hm.”

  I paused. “You do realize that that’s bound to be more of a problem for you than it will ever be for me, right?”

  “It won’t be a problem,” he countered. “If the end-result is having you to myself, I’ll wait a lifetime.”

  This man’s purple prose was impressive.

  “Ground rule number two,” he continued, “every year that passes, you grant me a new privilege.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Three months have already passed. I haven’t called your office,
let alone step foot in it. I may be your client, according to your ethical code, but I sure as hell don’t feel like your client anymore. Imagine how much less I’ll feel like your client at the one-year mark. Or the two-year one…”

  I refused to admit out loud that he had a point.

  “I wanna taste your lips again, Amaris,” he breathed out. His energy was penetrating the phone, because the more he talked, the hornier I became. “I wanna fucking touch you,” he continued. “I wanna be whatever you need me to be. Do you have any idea how it felt to hold you in my arms?”

  Cue vagina-clench and involuntary moan. I pressed my lips closed. The Moment of Truth was over, which meant I was under no obligation to answer any of his questions.

  “What privileges are you suggesting?” I squeaked, trying to ignore my physiological response to the things he was saying.

  “Year one: a proper date, just you and me. I’ll choose the place. No one will be around.”

  “It sounds dangerous.”

  “I’ll stick to the rules,” he promised, “but I’ll also follow your lead.”

  That guarantee didn’t make it any better.

  I didn’t respond.

  “Year two,” he resumed, “a date, a hug – ”

  “That’s it?” I hoped I didn’t sound disappointed. So far, it didn’t sound too bad.

  “Not finished… And another kiss.”

  Both my breath and my vagina caught. I rubbed the back of my pricking neck. Now it was getting intense, but he was talking two years out, and I imagined that by that time, the client-therapist bond would have faded significantly, even if on paper, it still existed.

  I’m actually justifying this crap? What the hell?

  “Okay… what's after that?”

  “Year three: a date, a hug… another kiss.” The word ‘kiss’ fell off his tongue in a breath, “and sexting.”

  I burst into unrestrained nervous laughter. “That’s ridiculous, Maverick.”

  “You’ve never sexted before?”

  Suddenly, my cell phone buzzed with a text message: