Lowering me to my feet, he carefully undresses me, letting my clothes fall onto the plush rug in front of his bed. The city lights are the only things illuminating the room, but I still see the way he looks at me. It’s the way I’ve always wanted a man to look at me; something in his eyes tells me he would give up everything to stay with me, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
He makes love to me—slow and tender—and it’s not until after, when I’m wrapped in his arms that I wonder if he tasted him on me.
And, it’s only then that I think about him again. My life is a merry-go-round; I’m not sure which direction I’ll be looking when it finally stops.
As I drift off, the spinning slows, and all I see is that painting.
A WEEKEND TUCKED AWAY in Pierce’s apartment was just what I needed, and as we pull up in front of my apartment on Sunday night, I’m not ready for it to be over.
I learned that he cooks just as well as he makes love. He likes staying in and cuddling on the couch with a movie. He literally checks off every box I had and some I didn’t know I had.
Friday may not have been a good day for us, but I look at it as another sign this is all going to work out. We can fight then make up, and then the next day it’s like it never even happened.
“So, I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
I lean in to kiss him. “Of course.”
“Don’t ever think about taking another job,” he whispers against my lips.
“Don’t ever think about taking another girlfriend,” I chide back.
He presses his lips to mine. “Never.”
Our relationship skipped the pace of a freight train and went straight for jet speed. It should scare me, but we sat side by side for months before the key was even put in the ignition.
“See you tomorrow, Stanley.”
“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
I pucker my lips as if I’m deep in thought. “Hmm, probably not. I like having a man whose last name could be his first.”
“Stanley makes me sound less than—”
“Sexy?”
He laughs. “I think that’s what I was trying to say.” As I climb out of his car, he does the same, grabbing my bag from the trunk. “Do you want me to walk you in?”
“It would probably be better if you didn’t.”
“I still don’t like him being here,” he says, running his long fingers through his hair.
Wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, I stare up into his eyes. “The other night, before you came to the apartment, we talked. He said you’re a good guy … that you deserve me.”
“What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“He let me go.”
His gaze wanders left to right, studying the few people who walk along the sidewalk. “Don’t be so sure. You’re not an easy woman to let go.”
“But you trust me?”
He looks back down at me. “Yes.”
“Then, you have nothing to worry about.”
After one last kiss, he watches me walk away and disappear inside the apartment building.
I’ve been honest with both men; my heart lies open on my sleeve now. It’s clear where I need to be even if it’s not always easy.
When I open the apartment door, Blake sits on the couch with a beer in his hand. It’s a familiar sight. “What did you do all weekend?” I ask, setting my bag on one of the dining room chairs.
“You’re looking at it,” he replies, his attention fixed on a basketball game.
“Have you eaten?”
He gestures toward the kitchen. “There’s leftover pizza and Chinese in the fridge. I went all out this weekend.”
I want to ask so badly how he’s doing, but I hold back. It goes over the line I’m trying not to cross.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks, bringing his beer bottle to his lips.
I shrug. “I think I’m just going to read a book Reece gave me. It’s been a long week, and I just need to unwind.”
After a few seconds of silence, I walk away, bringing my overnight bag in the bedroom and changing into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. I wash my face and put my glasses on, ready for a night of books, tea, and quiet. It really doesn’t get any better than that.
I’m six pages in when there’s a soft knock on my door; he doesn’t wait for me to answer before walking in. “What are you doing?” he asks. He walks toward me in gray athletic shorts and a white tank; it’s distracting, especially when you know what’s under them.
I glance at the cover of the book then look back up. “It looks like I’m reading.”
“Can we talk?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
“About?”
He laughs nervously. “I just need to talk … to take my mind off the path it’s currently on.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t go anywhere too deep tonight, still feeling emotionally drained from the last week. Then an idea hits, and I smile. “Do you remember when we played Truth?”
He nods, a smile pulling at his lips. Those damn lips.
“Why don’t we play that?”
“I’ll grab the tequila.”
Before I can argue that tomorrow is a workday, he’s gone. I kind of forgot about the tequila part. He returns with a bottle of Jose, a shot glass and a bowl of lime slices. I’m screwed.
“Who gets to go first?” he asks, sitting on the other side of the bed.
“Me,” I answer. I have so many questions.
He nods, pouring the first shot of tequila.
“Where have you been the last few months?”
“I went to Europe like I said I was going to, but that only lasted a couple weeks. I was such a mess, so I ended up checking into a facility in California. I was there until just a few weeks ago.”
My gaze falls to the liquor bottle.
“My treatment had nothing to do with addiction,” he answers, running his finger across my white comforter. “I checked in for depression. It was ruining me.” He pauses, looking over at me with dark intensity in his eyes. “I realized I was losing everything good in my life—the things that still existed because I couldn’t let go of the things that didn’t.”
There he goes making me feel guilty about moving on again. I couldn’t wait forever, not when someone so perfect had waited long enough. “I’m happy for you … that you decided to get help, but I hope you did it for yourself, too.”
He smiles sadly. “After everything I’ve done, some days I’m all I have.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper.
He ignores it. “My turn. How did you come up with the design for the hotel? It’s fucking brilliant.”
Shit. This one won’t give me the opportunity to drink. I need a drink. “I worked on it day and night. It was all I felt like I had left for a while.”
“When did you and Pierce start fucking?”
“Don’t call it that, Blake, and you already used your question, so let’s move on.”
“I’ll drink, then you answer.” He squeezes the lime between his teeth then takes the shot.
This is going to go down worse than the tequila. “The night I saw you in New York.”
His face falls, but I try to ignore it. Sex isn’t something I take lightly. It’s not something I do for the sake of loneliness. There’s a reason I crossed that line with Pierce, and after I did, he meant even more to me. Blake was just a few hours too late.
“My turn,” I say, trying to get my head back in the game. “Did you know I was going to be on this project before you signed on?”
“It’s the only reason I took it. Wade’s an asshole.” Now, that’s a truth.
“Did you think … I mean, were you hoping there would still be a chance for us when you took it?” My voice shakes. The answer is written all over his face, but I want to hear it. I want to hear that he came back for me so I know everything I went through the last few months wasn’t for nothing.