There he was. There was my Cahir. I laughed.
“Our table is ready.” He put a glass of champagne in my hand. “Are you?”
The restaurant’s lights were low. Black tapered candles were on every table, marking the time, building the mood.
Dancing across his skin.
“Yes,” I said.
Eleven
Cahir
“You said table and I thought,” Cash waved her hand, “a table among the rabble. Not this.”
I laughed and pushed her chair closer to the table. “The truth is kind of depressing.”
“Excellent.” She took a sip of her champagne. “Share.”
“Zion’s here.”
“Shit.”
I regretted telling her. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. I knew the truth would make her sympathetic not angry. I knew her.
“Yeah,” I said. “Normally I make reservations under my business partners’s names or have my assistant do it. But I forgot or I-”
She laid her hand over mine. It was another small table. One for people that wanted to be closer than close but also wanted a place to put their food. The room was large with windows that gifted us with sweeping views of the City as it moved from its day persona to night.
Art and wine covered the walls. Candles filled the empty spaces. And it was cool. A sommelier told me it was to encourage patrons to drink more, eat more, fall in love with spicier food. It just made me want to move closer, to trace my fingers over the goosebumps that rose on Cash’s skin.
“And she was here.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…not normal,” she said.
“No.” I hadn’t thought about it. Nothing between Zion and I had ever been normal.
“How’d you get the room?”
“I dropped O’Shea’s name with the manager.”
Cash laughed. I thought the candles burned a bit brighter.
“I can’t believe that worked,” she said.
“It’s a give/take kind of thing,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“No menus. Tonight’s one of those nights I’m glad I have a little money.”
“Why?”
“O’Shea’s going to make me pay through the nose for this.”
“Does that mean there’s going to be a lot of food?”
“Yeah, Cash.” I grinned.
She rubbed her hands together. And sat still until my laughter died. “You don’t have to lie you know.”
“I’d never lie to you.” I was rigid in my seat. A little offended. A little angry.
“A little money?” She raised her eyebrow. “I can google your net worth.”
“You probably have.”
“I have.”
I poured her more champagne. “Cash money.”
She laughed.
The food came. Course after course. Cash demanded that we pace ourselves. No more than five bites of anything. Every course was boxed and bagged for us to gorge on later. She did well with her rule. Until the porterhouse came in.
“Fuck it.” She picked up her fork and knife. “Let’s do this.”
She rubbed her stomach when there was nothing let on the plate but bone. “You shouldn’t have let me do it.”
“I wasn’t about to get stabbed.”
She laughed. “I want to ask you something.”
“I want to tell you.” And I did.
“There seems to be this kind of pull between you and Zion. We’ve talked about why you won’t go back, but I guess I want to know-”
“Why I won’t go back?”
She threw a piece of bread at me. “How you can ignore the draw.”
“You know any addicts?”
She shook her head.
“In the tech industry almost everyone’s addicted to some shit. They’re either about to go to rehab or just got out. Rehab lingo gets folded into ours.”
“Okay.”
“You learn that an addict will always be an addict. They’ll just get better at staying away from the substance. They’ll build a life where the substance isn’t at the center.”
“You’ll always love her.”
I shrugged. “I’ll get real tired of being drawn to something that only wants to hurt and bruise and ruin me.”
She nodded, and I wished I could have lied to her.
Cassidy
I chose clothes that didn’t cling and didn’t drink anything but water. The music was muted and lacked bass. I used my smiles to answer client questions. My words would be too sharp. I was elbows, knees, cheekbones, and squinted eyes.
And I knew why.
I should have felt it coming. I should have predicted it. I should have found a solution.
Kevin and I were…every nasty thought I ever had. We were hot nights and a few moments in the morning where we didn’t know if we could look at each other, if the stain of the sins we committed and enjoyed would be visible. We were grasping fingers and screams. Scratched backs and soft caresses. Wet mouth, wet pussy, wet dick. Indecent exposure charges and the gates of heaven.
He banked every fire I tried to set and then set some of his own so I would know what I did was nothing compared to what he was capable of. He was Satan in winter. He was- we were-perfect.
And I left him without having a suitable replacement. I just walked away as if my body would go gently into celibacy and calmly into denial. Nothing felt the same. Nothing. Vibrators agitated. My hands gave me weak orgasms that didn’t seem worth the effort when they passed.
I wanted.
I never did well with wanting what I couldn’t immediately have.
I slammed things. Things that didn’t belong to me. I yanked clothes onto hangers. I restocked the wine fridge and slammed the door.
“Hey!” Delia’s voice ran down the steps. “Fuck up the clothes. Be careful with the rosé.”
If it were any other day, if I weren’t so on edge, I would have laughed. I wanted to laugh. I couldn’t.
I stomped out of the office and up to the third floor as soon as I could without feeling guilty. It was later than I should have stayed. Later than Delia stayed. Later than any of them stayed. My files were organized. My bookmarks were updated with designers to watch and showrooms to contact.
I sighed.
“Can’t be that bad.”
I sighed again when I heard Cahir’s voice. “It is.”
“How can I help?”
“You can’t.”
He sat beside me on the couch and threw an arm over my shoulders. He always smelled so good. Manly. Sea salt, pine, ash, and something I couldn’t place. Not that smelling him helped. Not that the way my body turned to his helped. Not that the heat that passed through my body again helped.
“Try me, Cash.”
“I said you can’t help.”
“Whoa.” He sounded so amused I wanted to hit him until he was willing to take me seriously. “Now you definitely have to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing. Really. Nothing.”
“You never leave the office this clean. And your laptop is about to die. You hate when that happens.”
I did hate that.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Cash.”
“I’m just feeling irritable today.”
“Any reason?”
Oh, I hated his stupid little smirk. “Involuntary celibacy.”
“What?”
There it was. The strangled breath. The wide eyes. The open mouth. There.
“You heard me.” I could enjoy myself, enjoy his surprise. “Involuntary celibacy makes me irritable.”
He looked away from me and rubbed the back of his neck. Then his eyes were on mine and part of me shrank back. Another part considered that it might have been best to keep my thoughts to myself.
“I can help you with that.” His voice was deeper than I’d ever heard it.
I blinked. “What?”
Twelve
Cassidy
He tur
ned on the couch, knee on the cushions. A barrier? Everything was too hot, too close, too much altogether. The dress that was supposed to be loose and flowy was prison on my skin. I didn’t know if I wanted to escape.
“I could help you with that,” he said. Again.
Did I look as stupid as I felt, as caught in a trap I didn’t know he had the skill to set? Had I ever noticed the intensity he threw like javelins with just his eyes? Had I ever seen his body so still yet so ready? Ready. For what? Was I?
“Be clear, Cahir,” I said.
Did I mean that? Did I want clarity? Did I want my clothes? Did I want more of the pounding of my heart and blood and they way they both seemed to race? Did I want to see him, all of him, down to the smallest details and imagine what those details would look like, smell like, taste like, when they mixed with mine?
Did I want to jump?
“Sex. It’s been a while for me too. If I’m going to do it again,” his finger trailed a path over my cheek. “I’d like it to be with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m falling in love with you. Because I think we could burn each other from the inside out. Because I think I can make you forget Kevin existed.”
Kevin? I had to think, to breathe, to look away to remember my life before Cahir. Before that moment. Before he touched me for the first time in a way that wasn’t just about comfort.
“We probably aren’t compatible.” I had to say something. Grasp at something. Ignore the way my body disagreed with me and wanted me to defile that couch, him.
“Cash.” That finger trailed over my shoulder. I wished it were bare. “You don’t have to tell lies.”
“I have to do something.”
“Touch yourself.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He pulled all of the air in the room to him.
“I can’t-”
“You can. You’ll have more fun if you do.” He grinned.
I thought I knew all of his grins. That one was new. Wicked. And I was weak.
My fingers skimmed over the places he already touched. My cheeks. My shoulders. The straps of my dress fell and trapped my arms. I looked at him. It was more than I was ready for-this loosening of my armor. I needed him.
“Touch and tell?” The grin was still on his face. One eye brow lifted.
“Cahir.”
“Touch yourself and tell me how you’d like it to be.”
Was this us? Was this what was below the surface of the smiles and the jokes and holding hands at the farmer’s market? Was that heat always there, waiting for me, when we watched movies or wandered through a museum?
“Tell me what you like, Cash.”
I cleared my throat. Again. And pushed the straps, the top of my dress, down to pool around my belly button. I was a B cup on my best day. A modest handful. Cahir’s eyes ran over me, and I felt like more than enough.
“I like when it’s soft at first. Easy. I like learning and teasing.” My hands skimmed the roundness of the bottoms of my breasts. Up. Over. Down. Down to circle my nipples. Slow circles that moved inward and seemed to hypnotize him.
“I like when it feels like passion may kill us but it won’t kill time. We have so much time to die.” My fingers brushed over my nipples. No. I wouldn’t close my eyes. I would see him. I would see myself. “I like kisses that go on forever. They change but don’t end. Simple to rough to quick so we can breathe. I like to feel your tongue. I like to find the places where you hide all of the tastes. I like skin. Under my lips. Under my fingers. I like when-”
He stood and slipped out of his jacket. It was tossed over the back of the couch. So was his tie. “Keep going.”
“I like the way you sound.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and sat down. He put one of my hands on his chest and dragged it down to his waist. And he leaned close and moaned low and soft and fast. Fast enough that the sound could have belonged to my imagination instead of him.
“Like that?”
I nodded.
“Words, Cash.”
Who was he? Why hadn’t I tried to meet him sooner?
I ran my nose up the shell of his ear. He moaned again. He was warm. His body and smell. I wanted to be closer. Closer. I moved. My leg curled behind his back. My dress just a sash around my waist.
“Let me help.”
My pretty French panties became a belt of torn rags around my waist. My body a pillar of feeling waiting and hoping for him to do more. To take us too far. To ruin my clothes, my hair, my make up, my life. Ruin. Ruin. Collapse. Take.
“Please, Cahir.”
He didn’t moan. His forehead rested on my shoulder to watch my fingers find the place that needed my attention most. To see those fingers flutter and tease. Collect and spread the wetness he brought to the surface. I watched and tried to see what he saw, but I could barely see at all. There was only what I felt. Him. His breath whispered over my breasts. His shirt teased my thighs. His legs pushed me wider when he moved.
The lowering of his zipper was like an explosion. “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me if it’s too far.”
“I want to see.” I licked my lips. Dry lips. Dry mouth. Empty mind.
Empty and my God, he was beautiful. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Long. Thick. Dripping. Leaking. Oh.
“And I want to hear, Cash.”
“Cahir.”
“I’m going to make you say that word a lot.”
I smiled. He wouldn’t have to make me do anything. The way he touched himself. Strong, sure. Rough then loose. Demanding then unfocused.
“Tell me,” I said.
Maybe I begged. Maybe he heard the desperation. Maybe he knew me and that was why we were in that situation in the first place. He saw what I wouldn’t say.
“I want to see you on your knees. Your eyes open wide but not as wide as your mouth. I want to see your hands drag up my legs. I want to see your nails dig into me when I give you a bit more than you thought I had.”
I would die. From the words alone. A glorious death. Oh.
“You’ll look at me and I’ll know you like the taste, the moment. I’ll tell you what a good girl you are and tell you what I want next.”
My fingers slipped through my wetness, slipped inside me. “What do you want next?”
“Good girl.” His lips dragged over my jaw.
Oh, God. Oh.
“I’ll want you to lay on your back. I’ll want you to pull your knees up. Up to your ears so I can see all of you. And I’m going to want you to stay like that when I put my mouth on you. Perfectly still. If you aren’t, I’ll hit you here.” He ran a nail over the inside of my thighs.
The thought of him hitting me shouldn’t have made my breath tangle in my throat, but it did. I knew I would pass out. “You want to hurt me?”
Nose to nose. Eye to eye. Mouths opened, but they didn’t touch. Not once.
“I want to give orders. I want them to be obeyed. I want to reward your obedience.”
There. Shit, fuck, goddamn, there. It was a dark, roaring place that I toppled into. One that shook me and wrenched a shriek out of me when it refused to release me.
I was curled up in a corner of the couch when my brain, my body, decided they were mine again. My dress was right. My panties gone.
And he stood in the twilight shadows and made his clothes right again. I knew him. Knew him well. It shouldn’t have touched me that he saw to me first.
He smiled and pulled me up to him. Arms tight around me. If I thought it was a dream, a hallucination, the bulge that pressed into my stomach told me otherwise and made my body tight again.
He laughed into my ear. Was that who he’d been all along? A man who could laugh like that? A man that could take the strength out of my legs.
He kissed the top of my head. “Soon.”
Thirteen
Cassidy
I breezed into my grandmother’s shop and scooped things into the basket I normally reserved for the farmer’s m
arket. Oils, incense, crystals, candles. I put money on the counter and smiled at her.
“I tell you not to leave this mess here.” The disgust in her voice wasn’t real. The smile on her face was.
“Money is never mess, Gran.”
“And your money is never any good here.” She always wore white. Billowing white. It moved around her when she leaned over the counter to see what was in my basket. Her eyes went wide. “Oh, really?”
And perhaps I did look like the cat that ate all of the canaries but that was no one’s business but mine.
“Really.”
“Well.” She swept from behind the counter and looped her arm through mine. “It’s been slow today. I can watch you prepare your home for a nice bit of nasty sex.”
I laughed. “Junie’s coming over too.”
“Good. I haven’t seen that girl in so long.”
Junie leaned against my door, attention on her nails until she saw my grandmother. I was shoved away. “Auntie May.”
Gran was Auntie May to everyone. The woman with the sight and the truth. The one with the healing you needed. She was the reason I could run through Strawberry Fields without a care in the world. She was sacred to them. To me she was just Gran.
“Did she tell you?” Junie followed me into my apartment and moved to my kitchen.
“Don’t drink all of my wine, June,” I said.
“I brought my own. Think I’m a fucking amateur?”
Gran and I smiled at each other. I swept and mopped. Threw open all of my windows and watered my plants. I turned on music that made my hips move in slow circles meant to endure. I lit the incense and held each of the candles. Emptied myself and filled them.
“I watch her and I’m always so proud,” Gran said.
“I’ve never done all this to fuck someone. Am I missing out?” Junie’s gum was raspberry. A good smell.
I held out my hand for a piece. She rolled her eyes.
“Share, Junie,” Gran said.
Junie stopped mid-eye roll and slapped a piece of gum in my hands.
“It depends,” I said when the taste of raspberry and sugar and summer sweet filled my mouth. “Did you know it was coming?”
Better as Friends Page 6
