by C. C. Piper
All the people I cared about were on this poster. My parents. Mauricio and Richard. Other friends. These images displayed some of the happiest times of my life. There were pictures of restaurant openings and my college graduation. There was the time my parents and I drank mai-tais out next to my pool on the fourth of July.
The whole thing was so thoughtful that for a moment, the back of my throat burned. “It’s amazing, Emma,” I managed to croak out. I felt my face heat in embarrassment. “Truly amazing. Thank you.”
“You like it?” she asked in a small voice.
“I love it. This is some of your graphic design work, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You should triple your prices then.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear. “I’m serious.”
She shivered, her eyes closing half-mast. The thin top she wore displayed the fact that her nipples had gone pebbly and hard, which meant an entirely different part of my anatomy went just as hard. But I didn’t think now was the time for that. She must’ve agreed because she crossed her arms over her chest and dipped out from under my arm.
“I should just…” She gestured towards the kitchen.
“I’ll help.”
Silently, I went outside to scour my grill clean while she worked to put my stove, countertop, and fridge back to rights. Once done, Emma edged toward the stairs.
“Will you be going out and about tomorrow?” She hesitated on the bottom step, her delicate hand resting on the banister.
“No. I’ll be working from home.”
“Then, I’ll come talk to you once I return from Henderson.”
I felt a dash of unease that she might not come back at all, but it passed relatively quickly. The instincts my parents had insisted I use were telling me that I could trust her to return, so I would.
“See you when you get back.”
16
Emma
After two weeks away from home, it felt both good and bad to return to it. The villa and all its lavishness held far more creature comforts that the tiny apartment I shared with my brother. It was also ten times tidier.
Evan had left the mail piled up high on the coffee table—most of which were bills, no doubt—and one side of the kitchen sink was partially full. But he must’ve done at least some of the household chores because most of the dishes were done and the trash had been taken out. I hadn’t even been here to nag him, so that was a positive sign.
“Evan? I’m home,” I called out as I headed towards his room.
“Em? You’re here.” For a second, I could’ve sworn he looked relieved to see me, but the look was gone so fast I figured I must’ve have imagined it.
“Yep.”
He was sitting on top of his unmade bed, sporting an extraordinary case of bedhead and playing on his handheld gaming console. “Everything working out with that dude?”
By “dude” I guess he meant my pretend client.
“So far so good.” I contemplated whether or not to tell my brother that I might be out of pocket for a few days. If he knew I would be far away, would that make him think he had carte blanche to backslide again? I didn’t want to go there, so I avoided the subject, thinking about his schedule instead. “You still off today?”
“Well, I was, but Jimmy’s sick. Told him I’d cover his shift later this afternoon.”
I was tempted to tell him how impressed I was by his burgeoning sense of responsibility, but I didn’t want to jinx it, so instead I asked, “Have time for a burger with your sister before you go?”
That got his attention. “Hells yeah! Burger King?”
“Hells yeah,” I echoed back to him, grinning at him and ruffling his messy hair like I had when he was ten.
After I locked up, we hoofed it down the block to one of the few burger chains available in a little town like Henderson. I felt… happy. Encouraged. Hopeful. But I was afraid to trust it long term.
Still, I was going to tell James yes to Los Angeles. The beach sounded like the best thing ever.
Maybe as long as I didn’t look fate in the eye, I might just dare to believe that things were actually looking up.
James and I flew to L.A. aboard his private jet. It was the type of event that made me want to pinch myself to be sure it was real. How could it be possible for me to be here, zooming over the clouds on the way to another city? James wore one of his many suits, this time with a tie that matched his eyes so well I wondered if it’d been custom made.
Yet, as gorgeous and obviously wealthy as James was, he didn’t overtly flaunt it. He wasn’t a flashy or conceited kind of guy. I never caught him admiring himself in the mirror or flattering people on the phone like I might have expected. Though he was rich in every sense of the word, he didn’t act like it. From the day I’d met him till now, he’d been generous and kind.
What you saw was what you got with him. Maybe that was why I liked him so much.
Once we made it past the rigors of the airport and through the morning snarl of traffic, James led me to the front doors of a five-star hotel called Shutters on the Beach. The place was humongous and white, the building stretching half the length of a city block. Palms trees swayed in the summer breeze along the façade of the structure. As we entered the lobby, I knew this hotel must be as extravagant as his villa.
“I’ve stayed here several times in the past few years. It’s got a great view,” he told me as we stood together at the counter. Above us, with sunshine pouring through a skylight, there was a painted mural saying “I heart Shutters.”
“May I help you?” asked a rather fussy looking man with a thin mustache.
“Yes. Carter. I reserved a suite on the top floor with an ocean view,” James replied.
“Ah, yes. I see you’ve been a guest here before. If we can be of any assistance, please let us know. Just head toward that bank of elevators on your right. Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Carter.”
I froze at his words. Mrs. Carter. But James merely offered the clerk a polite smile and handed me one of the key cards. I guess I couldn’t object. Technically, I was Mrs. Carter. At least for a couple more weeks.
Once we’d put some distance between us and the front desk, I turned to James. “You didn’t tell me we’d be in the same suite.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a two-bedroom.”
Mollified slightly, I allowed him to escort me inside. The room was as lovely as his villa with plush oriental rugs lining the floors beneath the beds, miniature palm trees in each corner, comfy looking overstuffed furniture, and stunning views of the blue sea from the veranda outside.
I stepped into the warm ocean-rich air and took a deep breath. I could hear the rhythm of the waves crashing over and over with the view of water glittering like an azure jewel before me. It felt like an important moment, especially when James sidled up next to me, his arm grazing mine.
“Mesmerizing, isn’t it?” he spoke quietly, gaze also on the rolling breakers along the shore. “I’ve always loved the beach. When I look at it, all my stress and worries just sort of seep away, you know?”
He spoke with such sincerity that I found myself leaning even closer to him. This was my favorite side of James Carter, the aspect of him that was transparent and unapologetically honest about how he felt. Since I’d been living with him, I’d seen him like this more than once. It made being around him both easier and more difficult.
For the first time, I realized going back to my apartment was going to make me at least a little sad. I was going to miss being there with James. Of having such regular access to him at dinner and just in general. It wasn’t the extravagant surroundings I’d miss so much as I’d miss him.
Wow. Hadn’t seen that coming.
We stayed out on our private veranda for several more minutes, enjoying the moment. Then, he glanced at his watch and sighed.
“My meeting begins in fifteen minutes,” he said, sounding
regretful.
I felt a tug from somewhere in the depths of my chest. I didn’t want him to go which was absolutely ridiculous. His meeting was the whole reason we’d come here. James had flown in to conduct business, not to act as my tour guide. I felt selfish and ungrateful for begrudging the time he spent away from me.
What the hell was I thinking?
Metaphorically, I hauled up my big girl panties. “I’ve got lots of work to do too.”
He touched my bare elbow, making goosebumps erupt all over my skin. And since the weather was so balmy, this made no sense to me whatsoever. He leaned in, breath fanning over the shell of my ear. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure,” I said, my voice all breathy. What was wrong with me?
Then, he was gone.
That evening he came in with bright eager eyes. I smiled at him. “You’re meeting must be going well.”
For a second, befuddlement crossed his features, then he smiled back at me. He shucked off his suit jacket, throwing it across the king-sized mattress. “It’s going fine, but I want to get out of here.”
I couldn’t help but stare as he removed his dress shirt and toed out of his fancy shoes. I didn’t know why his actions should feel so… titillating, but they did. “What are you doing?”
“I thought we could head down to the restaurant downstairs, but I’m ready to put on something more casual.” He stopped undressing and gave me a startling wink as his mouth twitched into a smirk. His hand was on his belt, obviously about to unlatch it. “You going to watch me change?”
There was humor in his voice, and it dawned on me where I was. The veranda came off of his bedroom which was the master suite. I’d been standing out there again because I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes away from that amazing blue vista encompassing the horizon. I’d already put my belongings in the second bedroom with the queen-sized bed, so I didn’t know why I was being so slow on the uptake.
“Uh, no. I’ll go put on some sandals.” I made my escape, feeling the back of my neck heat.
Luckily, James didn’t tease me any further and we had dinner outside on the deck by the massive rectangular hotel pool. We people-watched as we ate salmon and spring salads tossed with walnuts and some sort of spicy dressing, taking in a couple of families with small children as they played in the shallow end.
He ordered a couple of beers and encouraged me to try one of their fruity cocktails with an umbrella. It was as sweet and tangy as punch, but with a definite kick that made the environment blur along the edges.
“Wanna take a stroll along the beach now?” he said, offering me his hand.
I took it. “Thought you’d never ask.”
It’d grown late enough that the sun had descended, painting the puffs of clouds overhead in a striking mix of fuchsia and lavender. I pulled out my phone to take pictures, just as I had earlier when I stood on the veranda alone. I didn’t want to forget anything about this place.
The breakers ebbed and flowed as if the planet was breathing endlessly in and out. James removed his shoes and so did I. When he reached for my hand again, I happily supplied it.
I delighted in the feeling of the sand under my bare feet and my palm against his. I didn’t know if it was the change of scenery or the more vacation-like feel of the location, but it felt natural to stay in physical contact with James.
Back at the villa, I’d been so wary about it, particularly since every time we kissed things between us tended to fly into passionate territory so rapidly, yet here I didn’t hesitate. I felt as if the portion of my psyche that tended to worry had been switched off and being with him no longer seemed like a bad idea.
I didn’t know if it was the alcohol I’d imbibed—even though I doubt I could blame the single cocktail I’d had—or the environment itself, but it was like I’d been given this free pass to give in to what I usually denied myself.
And I was going to take it.
He led me along a path littered with lit tiki huts and a series of bamboo torches. It felt so magical here. I wanted to capture it somehow, savor this time.
James found a more secluded part of the beach down by a pier, and we sat there together with our feet in the damp sand. I rested my head on his chest and allowed his arm to loop around me. I didn’t create distance between us, didn’t want to. I felt good right now. Safe. And it was James who’d made me feel that way.
The moon was high in the night sky, glimmering and bright. It brought to mind a memory, one of the ball dropping in New York City on New Year’s Eve. That thought linked to another.
“Do you like Thanksgiving?” I asked him.
“You bet. I love cooking for my family and friends.”
“You make the turkey?”
“I do. Mom used to do it when I was growing up, but now I get to treat her. They paid for my culinary school degree, so it’s the least I can do.”
“So, you’re repaying them,” I concluded.
He turned his face toward mine. “Well, I don’t think I’d phrase it that way. There’s no need to tally points and keep score when you love someone. It’s not about tit for tat. It’s about the joy of seeing something I did put a smile on their faces.”
What a foreign concept. Evan and I had always engaged in some quasi form of competition for my parents’ attention. Me, by my outlandish behavior, and him, for trying to be a boy scout. But underneath all that, we did love each other. Just not like James’ family seemed to.
“I detest that saying,” I said, going off on a bit of a tangent.
“What saying?”
“Tit for tat.”
James surprised me by tipping his head back and laughing out loud. He traced along the pattern of the hibiscus on my shoulder. “Well, it can’t be the tat you find offensive since you seem to like those. So, by the process of elimination…”
I shivered as if chilled, this time in anticipation. I wanted him to continue this exploration. As if he could read my mind, the tip of his finger then slipped lower along the side of my left breast, grazing the plumpest part of the curve. Our faces were within an inch of one another’s and even that seemed too far. I gazed up into his eyes, begging without saying a word. Touch me.
His fingers obeyed, skimming across to the nipple instead. I gasped, body breaking out in tremors as my panties became so damp as to be uncomfortable.
“I’m confused now,” he whispered against my lips. “Because you don’t seem to find tit offensive either.”
“I don’t care for that word, but maybe if you keep doing that, I’ll learn to get over it.”
He sealed his mouth to mine as his finger continued to tease me over my top. My nipples became sharp peaks and my breasts heavy as his tongue sought entrance. I opened for him, giving him what he wanted, and suddenly, the amount of contact we were sharing just wasn’t enough.
I shifted to my knees and straddled him, rubbing my aching body against his. His hands went into my hair and his mouth dropped to my neck, suckling the skin below my earlobe.
I could feel him everywhere. When I felt his hardness against the juncture of my thighs—the place I needed him most—I let out a groan.
“Need to get back to the room,” he hissed out, teeth nibbling along my collarbone. I unbuttoned his white linen shirt, my eager palms feeling the definition of his chest before sinking lower to the soft hair of his happy trail. Only when my thumb rubbed against his erection did he move to stand, growling out, “Now.”
I couldn’t disagree.
Picking up our discarded shoes, we hurried back, our gaits clumsy in our desire for each other. Every few paces we halted to kiss again, so our return trip took longer than it should have because we were only able to make progress in fits and starts.
We attacked one another again upon reaching the elevator, yanking our hands away from the more X-rated areas of our bodies when an elderly couple boarded on the second floor.
We heard a ding of a bell as the elevator lifted off again, then the creaky
voice of the lady standing beside us. “I thought this thing was going down,” she complained, and I nearly giggled like a schoolgirl at the words going down.
Damn.
Fortunately, and possibly due to his better breeding, James kept a straight face. “No, ma’am. It’s on its way up.”
“Humph,” she groused. This time, I did snort. Though I managed to turn it into a cough there at the end.
At long last, we reached the top floor, leaving our dour older couple behind us. The second we were out of eyeshot, James pressed me to the nearest wall and claimed my mouth with his. I thought I would combust like a nuclear explosion.
Not willing to get caught a second time, I raced toward the suite, dragging him with me. It wasn’t exactly a challenge. He must’ve been as revved up as I was because somehow he still reached the door ahead of me.
Then, we were inside. We didn’t make it far, though. As soon as the door fell shut, James caught me under my knees and carried me to one of the velvety sofas.
After setting me down he tore his shirt off his shoulders. He divested me of my top, exposing the lacey silk of my bra. The garment was black with red roses along the brim of each cup.
He moaned as he saw it. “Do you always wear bras this sexy?”
I did. Naughty lingerie was the one thing I invested in when I needed a pick-me-up. “Yes.”
“Christ.”
He knelt down and attached his mouth to me then, suckling my puckering nipple right through the fabric. I answered with my own moan, my matching panties so saturated my thighs were wet. He unfastened my denim shorts next, pulling them down and past my bare toes. James drew one hand in a line over my panty-covered folds, freezing as he felt the moisture. He stopped and looked at me, eyes so dilated I could barely make out their usual blue.
“You’re wet for me.” His words were a statement rather than a question. Because I was. I so was.
“Yes.” It’s not like I could deny this.
“Fuck.”
