Saturday, April 24, 2010
I HAD TO ADMIT, that song had some sort of power over us. Like an old friend, one you’d fought and forgiven, it was always there when we needed it.
After he kissed me, and he got us back on the road, I studied him.
Watching him drive was such a turn on. He looked both completely focused and totally relaxed. The muscles in his forearm, tight, as he held the wheel. His hair had grown out more. Even I could admit it needed a trim as it blew around in the spring air. He looked sexy, wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses as he drove. I could have gazed at him all day.
“Take the wheel for a second,” he requested.
Cautiously, I gripped it from my side.
He glanced at me and asked, “Ready?” Then he leaned up from his seat, which was way too reclined for me to ever drive comfortably, and I found myself steering. He watched me and the road, back and forth, the windshield and then back to me.
Casey lifted his left leg and helped guide the wheel, as it was clear, and instead of watching traffic, I was watching him.
“You got this?” he asked and chuckled.
I shifted my focus from him and watched where we were going, as I smiled to myself.
Had anyone ever loved someone as much as I love him?
My eyes scanned the street and cars around us, then to him quickly going down his buttons, starting at the top of the lavender dress shirt he wore. Lavender isn’t a color most men can pull off, but it only stood to contrast his beautiful eyes. It somehow made him all the more masculine for having the bravado to put it on. His long fingers pushed the plastic buttons through their respective holes. And when he was finished with the light work of releasing them, he shook out of the shirt, wadded it up and threw it in the back seat. Leaving him in only a tight, white V-neck T-shirt.
Could he really be mine?
I saw the sign on the massive warehouse as we grew closer.
Bay Brewing was a much larger operation than I’d realized. We drove around to a lot nestled in an alley. The fenced area was closed and locked, so when we approached, Casey had to punch in a code for it to let us in.
The large gates swung in and he drove onto the private parking lot. There were a few delivery trucks, but other than those it was empty. He whipped the car into the spot nearest the door.
“It’s a lot bigger than I imagined,” I confessed.
“Imagined?” he asked, and then snickered. “You’ve seen it before. And I’m a little—no, a lot—offended that you can’t remember. That said, I’m really happy about how big you think it is.” He stretched an arm over my headrest, as he leaned back in the driver’s seat to taunt me.
He looked like a classic bad boy. Jeans. New Converse. Fresh white T-shirt. He pulled the glasses up over the front of his hair and left them there.
I wasn’t sure what kind of cologne he had on. Hell, it was possible the scent was just his deodorant. But whatever it was, to my body, it was like waving a steak in front of a tiger. I breathed him in, in every way I could. Absorbed him into my mind. My senses. My everything.
The sight of him, sun shining through his hair, the way his chest pulled against the front of his shirt. How his legs were parted. My mouth watered thinking about what was just beyond that denim.
He watched me as I let myself get drunk on him.
“You know what I meant,” I accused, but I didn’t really correct him. He was, after all, right. I played dumb. “So where are we?”
“This is where the magic happens, honeybee. Remember that.” He was still as cocky as the night we’d met, and I loved it.
He showed me around the brewery and told me about how they’d expanded. They were looking at buildings in other cities for logistical reasons, having grown out of the one current facility.
We stopped by what looked like a break room. He opened the refrigerator and brought out two beers. Like he’d done it every day, he found a magnetic bottle opener on the side of the old Maytag and popped the tops off, handing me one.
He lifted his and I followed his lead, like we were toasting.
“To trouble and Led Zeppelin,” he said.
“To trouble and bait,” I repeated. He kissed me for that.
Then, he proclaimed, “Now, taste the nectar of the gods.” Casey was so dramatic.
He showed me around the rest of massive building. When we went upstairs, where the offices were, I saw Aly’s name on a door as we walked past.
It reminded me.
“You didn’t call me this morning. Was everything okay?”
He shook his head, and swallowed his drink, before apologizing. “I’m sorry, I woke up late.”
That didn’t help me feel any better. Last I’d known, he was putting Aly to bed. My face must have shown how I didn’t like the thoughts in my head. I knew they weren’t true, and that I had nothing to worry about, but I still thought about it.
“I wasn’t with her. She was drunk and making a fool out of herself—and, therefore, the company. I didn’t stay with her last night.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“You do?” He appeared shocked and relieved at the same time. He stopped walking as we approached the door that read “Casey Moore, V P of Sales.” I was impressed.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“Because I know you. You wouldn’t do that to me.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t.”
My stomach cramped thinking about how I’d made him feel in the past. How in the hell did he not give up on me?
“I’m sorry I’ve done that to you. I’m sorry you’ve had to fall asleep knowing I was next to someone else.” That guilt might always live inside me. The excuse of, “He knew what he was getting into” never really took away the sting of it. I’d done that to him. I hated it. “That will never, ever be the case again. I hope, someday, you’ll be able to trust me like I trust you.”
His brow furrowed. He’d never liked it when I talked like that, but sometimes things needed to be said. Something I’d learned in therapy. It didn’t undo what I’d done, but it relieved something inside me to own up to it. Shitty as it was.
“And I know Aly loves you. She told me she does. But I hope she knows I’ll fight for you—if it comes to it.”
“It won’t,” he stated definitively, jaw tight and eyes set on mine. “She knows I only want you. I’ll only ever want you.”
We were bound to have those moments, but they were getting easier. Tossing out old habits of building walls between us and hiding what we felt, were becoming things of the past. Our new way of communication—even if it wasn’t easy—was proving much more rewarding.
Deciding that was all that needed to be said on the topic, I stated, “Well, show me this office then, Mr. President.”
“Vice President,” he corrected with a chuckle. “I like it better when you call me Lord Casey.” Lord Casey was a product of my living arrangements after he bought the building. Landlord didn’t suit him, so we improvised.
His office wasn’t massive, but it was more than big enough for one person. Especially, since he was rarely there.
He had pictures and awards framed, which sat on a built-in, dark wooden bookcase. Empty bottles lined the top shelf. I raised a questioning eyebrow to Casey behind me, asking silently what they meant.
“Those are all of the brews we’ve offered here since the day I started,” he explained. He was sitting on the edge of his almost bare desk. Legs and arms crossed, as he watched me investigate, he held his beer bottle to his side with just one finger wrapped around its neck.
I smiled at the sentiment. I wondered if he saved them the entire time, or if it was an afterthought. Knowing him, he’d kept the first bottle he’d ever drunk. It’s funny how, and when, things become sentimental. Sentimental like our two ships that sat on the other end of his desk. He had them facing each other and it warmed my heart.
“Are they in order?” I asked, looking up at them.
“Yeah, I think so. Some have gone out and then come back, but for the most part they’re in order from when I started.”
“Which is your favorite?”
He chortled. “The one I’m drinking.”
Smart ass.
“I’m serious.”
“I’m serious, too.” He finished the last of his beer and set the bottle in the trash can next to his desk. I peered back up at the bottles to see if it was up there for examining.
He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my head and said into my hair, “It’s my favorite for two reasons. One, it’s the first I’ve had with you here. And two, hopefully, it’s the one I finished drinking the first time I had sex with you in my office.”
My breath caught. He’d always had a way of catching me off guard. My head rolled on its own accord and my eyes slowly closed.
“What if someone shows up?”
His hands worked my shoulders. With a firm grip, he sought out each muscle and gave it personal attention before moving to the next. He moved my hair over one shoulder so it wasn’t in his way.
“No one will,” he cajoled, his low tenor voice tightening my insides. “Sometimes, I’m here on Sunday evenings. I’ve never seen anyone. Besides, I don’t care if they do. I have a lock on my door.”
Well, didn’t he have an answer for everything?
His hands moved to my upper arms and squeezed, pulling me nearer to his chest. Then I felt his mouth on my skin. His tongue danced over the nape of my neck. One of his hands found my hair and wrapped it around his hand, pulling my head to the side as he passionately kissed my neck.
I moaned. Loudly.
It was an embarrassing sound. He was no stranger to my embarrassments.
Casey pressed into my back. He was hard and I wanted all of him. My hands found his thighs, pulling his even closer. Would there ever be a time when he didn’t control my body at this range?
He was the master and I his puppet. Willingly.