I exhale. “So you liked it too.”
He looks at my mouth.
The look melts me, heats me, it’s so raw. I breathe, “You’re an asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you until you admit it.” I tilt my chin, but inside I really just crave to hear it. Our eyes hold deadlocked.
“Put your hand on the front of my pants.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
I do. He’s really hard. I rub him. “Did you not come?” A smile curves my lips. I’m teasing him.
He looks at me, the heat intensifying.
“Oh my God, you’ve got pre-cum coming out already…”
And when I gasp he moves swiftly to take my mouth and kiss me stupid. Long and slow.
“I can wrap up at seven. Why don’t you meet me in the lobby when I’m done?”
He halts my hand, on his hard dick, and doesn’t remove it. I can feel him, hard and pulsing as I try to swallow. “I have a date with Natchez. One of my dogs. But can I use a computer while you finish off…”
“Use my laptop.”
I pry my hand away from his hot body and grab his laptop, then I start to take it outside.
“You can stay here if you’d like.”
I halt midtrack. Eye the leather sectional in the seating area of his office and the glass coffee table before it. “This will do.” I smile, and he smiles briefly before he heads behind his desk to get business done.
On his laptop, I discover a folder titled Bryn. I click on it. Pictures of me appear. Some when I was younger, others of me now.
I look down at my lap. He’s moody today, but a part of me knows I’ve been giving him a tough time about us. About me and him. I can’t imagine how frustrating I have been, and how hard it is for him to see me every day too, and maybe want things that I keep fighting him on.
As Aaric finishes up, I close his laptop and bring it back to his desk.
“You have a folder called Bryn in your computer.” I feel flushed, and I’m as unable to stop the flush as I am to keep from smiling. “I have one too but in my mind. Called Aaric.”
He looks up at me, eyebrows high.
“I’ve got two what ifs in my life that have always hurt me to think about. You’re one of them, Aaric,” I admit.
He stands up and pushes his chair in, coming around to lean on his desk, attentive. “What’s the other one?”
I hesitate.
“The night my parents died, they called me, I got home around midnight. Got ready for bed. At 12:55 a.m., I thought about calling back, but I convinced myself it would be better if I called the next day.”
“12:59 is the time the fire started,” he says.
I nod, my throat suddenly tight.
His eyes shadow, and for a while he says nothing.
“When Leilani went into labor, I was away on business. She ended up in some shitty hospital. My daughter didn’t make it.” He eyes me for a long moment. “I thought I didn’t want her. I convinced myself it happened because I didn’t want her.”
“Of course it didn’t happen because of that. She wasn’t in your plans. We couldn’t have known.”
“We should’ve.”
“But we didn’t.”
He reaches out to touch my shoulder, peering at my face. “Hey. The fire wasn’t your fault.”
“Neither is the death of your baby.”
He looks at my whole face, then at my mouth. “Some what ifs, some you never get to do over, Bryn,” he says.
I blink, dipping my head in consent. “Sometimes you get another try,” I breathe.
As I hold back my tears, he sets his thumb on my bottom lip, and kisses me. It’s just a soft kiss as he says, “I’ll take you home.”
And I ask if he can take me to Natchez instead, just because I want to prolong this. Just because, even when consciously I want to put distance between us, subconsciously I seem to want something else.
Bryn
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. This is more. This is more than I ever thought possible. Him—how much I want him. How much I care. I toss and turn all night, thinking of nothing but Christos and how much I want to do the brave thing, and for once in my life let myself fall without worrying. Let myself fall for him—the guy I’ve been falling for since I was seventeen.
I’ve always been reliable and levelheaded. Cautious, you could say. But that bitch is gone. That was the young me. The adult me says yes, go for it, you have been into this guy since the moment you saw him, greasy and hot at the shop. I want to try and see where this goes, but I’m scared it will end up provoking my heart, even while up on the highest shelf where I’d put it. But who am I kidding? It’s no longer on my shelf, it’s been in his. For a long time.
On Saturday morning, I look up my horoscope for the weekend.
Dear Cappie,
The stars are aligning for you! If you’ve had your hopes on a certain someone, this week might be the time you two can take the relationship to the next level. Just be patient, as they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day…
I’m not sure how I feel about this. It says nothing about what happens if you jump recklessly into a forbidden romance.
No, I am totally not the Cappie that horoscope is talking about. But once Becka told me your sun sign is not the only clue as to the weather around you. She had used a handy little internet tool to find out my ascendant, based on the hour you were born. So I read Pisces next.
Dear Pisces,
Boy you must be thrilled the square alignment has eased some this month, and with Mars back in good form after its retrograde in your house of travel, you should be ready for business and pleasure, both! Keep your eye on your goals and don’t forget to have a little fun this August while Venus travels your fifth house of love and creativity.
“I do enjoy reading these suckers, though I never pay attention to any negative things they have to say. I only run with the good ones. This time though, it’s way off.” I sigh.
“Read mine. Wait, you read it first before telling me what it says. Shit, don’t tell me if it’s bad.”
“What’s your sign?”
“Taurus. Ruled by Venus, I apparently like very beautiful and expensive things.” Sara smirks while taking a peek. “What does it say?”
“Don’t peek and don’t talk, I can’t concentrate reading with noise around!” I start reading hers.
Dear Taurus,
After the recent mercury retrograde in your sister sign Virgo during the month of July, you’re back in full form and able to work off the kinks in your communications. Now is the time to iron out the details of that professional plan you’ve been holding in the back burner, and if a relationship has felt the rough and tumble of the stars, remember the universe always helps us with course corrections to fix what’s broken, or learn to let go.
“What does it say?”
“Dear Taurus,” I begin. “If you still love him, go for it. Don’t wait for my astrologer permission, don’t wait for me to give you a safety net, just do it!”
“What?” She starts reading and says, “Bryn, you are a lousy astrologer. You’d die poor.”
I can’t seem to fully stop a giggle as I set it aside. “No, really. You’re hooked on him, Sara. I do think you need to find him. Why wait? You can be waiting forever. Why do we give our power away?” I frown. “I mean, we’re bombarded by all these marketers telling us what to think, how to feel about ourselves, we wait to see what others think about our clothes to determine if we really like them. We wait for an astrologer to tell us the coast is clear to do something we’ve been wanting to do. It’s wrong.”
I chew my nail. My mind wanders back to Christos and I wonder why I had the balls to give Sara this advice when I don’t have any balls of my own, apparently.
I also remember touching Christos’s balls and how much I wanted to go down on him. A pang of unwelcome little feelings strike and I’m not really sure if I’ll be able to push them away, but I try to, especially considering I was talking to Sara about her love life. Not mine.
“Let’s do something we really want to do. Let’s finally do something for ourselves, take our own advice.”