Chapter Fifteen

Teala

Because neither of us has any clue what we’re doing, there’s a lot of gray area and awkward questions. Against my better judgment I’m at Charlotte’s house and my girlfriends are all staring at me like I’m a marmoset at the zoo. Eyes squinted, like maybe I’m a figment of their imagination. Let’s be honest, they’re also in complete shock.

“One more time. No sex? You haven’t had sex with him?” Jasmine asks. She’s the one who called the emergency meeting. Jasmine shakes her head while Charlotte laughs. “It’s unbelievable. We thought for sure you’ve been screwing that man the entire time.”

“I didn’t think she was,” Carina interjects, her voice soft and soothing.

I fake mock outrage. “Thank you, Care. Someone who doesn’t think me a liar!” I am, but not about what they’re suggesting. No need correcting that minor oversight. “I’ve followed your advice implicitly. It’s the fifth date tonight and we have plans,” I explain. Normally I’d wax poetic about dicks and sex just to jar my friends and shake things up, but talking about having sex with Macs is different. The thought makes me shiver. “It’s hot in here, Charlotte,” I add. I fan myself with my hand. I’m turning a bright shade of chartreuse.

Carina lays a hand on my back. “It’s going to be okay. I know what you’re feeling right now.”

I look at her like she’s mad. She’s living with a SEAL whom she hasn’t fucked yet. I saw her boyfriend, Smith, from afar once and afar is how I want to keep him. He’s scary and beautiful, but by Carina’s accounts, he’s also the nicest man on the damn planet. I didn’t get one of those. I probably wouldn’t want one of those either. “Things have a way of working out whether you think they’re good ideas or not.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Don’t do that, Care. That thing when you’re trying to make it seem like you’re wise and all knowing, when you just know how to throw words together to make the biggest impact.”

Carina smiles and looks down at her lap. “I can’t help it.” She laughs then and I’m relieved I didn’t hurt her feelings with my jest. “It’s a good sentiment, though. Regardless of my…talents.”

Charlotte clears her throat. She bumped the thermostat down and grabbed a veggie tray from the kitchen. “It’s leftover from my leggings party last week. I wouldn’t eat the ranch, but the veggies should be good,” she explains. Charlotte works from home as a web designer, so a leggings party sounds like something she’d embrace fully and truly.

Carina crunches a carrot like a little rabbit.

Jasmine thanks her with a snide remark about cleaning out her fridge once in a blue moon, then she turns to me again to pepper me with questions. Vegas is brought up and they’ve hailed me the winner—Charlotte, begrudgingly. “There’s really no way to prove she isn’t lying. I saw the way that man looked at you, Teala,” Charlotte squalls.

Jasmine chimes in, and they get lost in a conversation about Macs’ looks. I’m not even mad because they don’t over exaggerate any one detail more than another.

My watch pings a message and I glance down. Photo from Macs is displayed on my wrist. The three words make my heart pound. I try to be casual as I bring my arm to my lap and tap the message to bring up the photo. It’s a photo of his neatly made bed. My insides turn to molten lava and Charlotte could crank the AC down to arctic level and I’d still feel hot. I click it off quickly.

The urge to tell him that photos are equipped to say more than words arises, but I squash it. It would ruin the moment and what a moment it is. My friends are dissecting my love life as they compare it to their own. Carina is lost in a text message, smiling like a lunatic, but she chimes in when they start a conversation about kissing.

“Carina knows how to kiss. She writes it like she lives it. I bet she’s super good in the sack,” Jasmine says, forcing Carina’s cheeks to turn scarlet. Jasmine isn’t just Carina’s best friend, she’s also the literary agent for her alter ego, Greenleigh. They have a relationship so intertwined that no one questions it anymore. I’d imagine the edges blur when you write about something you also live.

I pull my hair into a ponytail. The only reason I left it down is because I thought it would be more alluring, but I can’t deal with the extra heat right now. The anticipation is making me nauseous. “Enough. No more talk about my sex life or the lack thereof.”

“Here, here!” Carina injects, flipping her cell phone face down in her lap. “Can we just eat Charlotte’s leftovers and talk about shoes or something?”

“This is where you guys should give me advice about sex in relationships,” I say. “How is it different? What’s expected after? Cuddling?” Cringing, I shake my head. “Never mind, don’t tell me,” I affirm. “I’ll do what I feel is best and hope it’s not weird.”

“It’s going to be weird. Sex is messy,” Charlotte says.

She tells us a story about the first time she had sex with her last boyfriend. I’m left gaping, wishing I never had to look her in the face again. Carina is covering her mouth, eyes wide. Jasmine is laughing, and Charlotte ends the story with a smug, closed lip grin.

Standing from the couch, I tell them I’m going to be sick and rush into the bathroom, slamming the door. I hear their raucous laughter through the thick wood and smile. I pull my phone out of the pocket of my workout jacket and look at the photo Macs sent one more time. I should send him a photo—something scandalous and lewd—something that would make Charlotte’s story sound like child’s play.

There’s a soft knock on the door. “Are you okay?” Carina’s voice floats through.

I open the door and make sure my smile is in place. “I’m fine. I was joking. Charlotte is so gross sometimes. My stories are way worse anyways. It takes more than a dripping wet panty hamster to make me vomit.”

Carina laughs and then agrees.

Her smile fades. “I’m having sex with Smith soon, too. I get it. I’m already in love with him.” Her declaration sets my teeth on edge. It makes me question my feelings for Macs and ask myself what the hell is love? Carina exited a relationship prior to Smith—not that long ago either. How can she possibly know she loves him?

If there ever was a person to explain it, she’s standing in front of me. I reach behind her and shut the bathroom door with a soft click. “What is love? Explain it.”

Carina laughs. “You’re having an existential crisis, aren’t you?” Her eyebrows rise and her shoulders shake. “Do you not want to have sex with him?” It’s a stupid question, but given the circumstances it’s warranted.

“Of course I do,” I reply, letting my hands rise up and slap against my legs. “Sex is my thing. I never know those men, though. It’s just…sex,” I explain. “This is,” I say, pausing.

“This is more?” Carina supplies for me.

Coughing, I try to hide my emotion. “When you say it like that it makes it sound like I’m goo-goo eyed in love with him and I’m not sure that’s the case. It’s the chemistry between us.”

She nods. “I saw it.” She sees everything. Then she turns around and writes about it. I wish I had that skill. I’d be less messed up, I bet.

Charlotte has fifteen bottles of perfume sitting on a mirrored tray by her vanity. I pick one up absentmindedly and spritz the air.

“I’m worried he’s going to bail after sex,” I admit. Waving my hand in the air, I try to disperse the flowery scent. “That’s what always happens and I don’t think this is any different. I’m not sure if it’s going to be different and I’m preparing myself mentally for a few different outcomes.”

“That’s just because it’s all you know, Tay. It’s different and you know it. It scares you. Have you talked to him about this?”

I laugh out loud—a sardonic cackle. “Macs doesn’t do emotions. If I had this conversation with him, he’d head for the hills so fast, my head would be left spinning.”

“You should probably try. I bet he’d be receptive. He’s only dating you, correct? No other women?”

I wince. “I think it’s just me.” How can I be sure? I feel like he’s always on his cell phone. I explain how wrapped up in the app dating culture he was before me and now she’s the one wincing.

“Then he may be feeling the same way if he’s given that lifestyle up. Big changes are hard and scary. Even for men who aren’t afraid of anything.”

I pick up another bottle of perfume and sniff the top.

“Don’t spray that one. It already smells like a French whore on a Saturday night in here,” Carina snaps.

It doesn’t. Not really. Charlotte is into things like perfume and makeup. I have a couple bottles to my name, but nothing like what she has. Exquisite bottles in deep hues and clear bottles that look like diamonds. Maybe I’ll buy another bottle the next time I’m at the mall.

I set the bottle back down. “You never answered me.”

She sighs. “What is love?”

I widen my eyes. Duh.

“It’s different for everyone,” she says, turning her eyes away from me. “It never feels the same twice.”

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. There has to be some singular quality that resides in love for each and every person. “I don’t believe that.” Though I’ve never experienced it.

Carina silences me with a look. “I thought I was in love, but when I met Smith, I realized the error of my ways. Sometimes love placates. Sometimes it washes over you like small waves coming and going. Sometimes it’s so deep you drown in it.”

I nod. I understand that. “Drowning. Death. Sounds about right.”

She laughs. “You’ll know. I think you already know.”

“I don’t know him well enough to say that for sure.”

“You miss him?” Carina asks. “You get excited to see him? You rearrange your life to fit him in it?” Even now, I’m jonesing to text him back. I miss him when we’re not together.

In favor of answering her questions, I tell her I’ll talk to him. She likes that answer better anyways. I can tell she doesn’t like being peppered with questions about love when she’s contemplating her own feelings in a new relationship. Does Smith love her? I wonder.

“How do you know if he loves you?” I ask quickly.

The bathroom door is open now. “He gave up an entire life for me.” Sadness replaces her former smile and my stomach turns. What must it feel like to live with that guilt?

“He got the better end of the deal,” I reassure her.

Her smile in response doesn’t meet her eyes. After she leaves, I snap a photo of a perfume bottle and send it to Smith. Love and perfume, I think. He’ll never get that one.

I walk back out to my friend’s gray living room and announce my departure.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jasmine whoops.

Charlotte hugs me briefly and pushes me back toward the door.

“I have to get ready for my own date. It’s number two, though, so I won’t get to have as much fun as you,” Jasmine adds.

Stupid, stupid rules. I can’t fault them that much because I’m in a completely different place now that I followed along with their guidelines. I’d admit defeat before I admit they might hold some merit.

“You guys do realize I’ve banged a guy before, right?” I ask.

Carina smiles.

“Not one like him,” Charlotte cackles. “That man is intimidatingly beautiful.”

I shrug. “Not everyone can be as lucky as us,” I say, nodding at Carina.

She blushes. I close the door behind me and exit into the warm SoCal breeze. It will get colder by the minute at this point.

I text Macs a photo of my steering wheel, the German emblem barely visible in the low light. It doesn’t take long to get to his house using the freeway. Less than ten minutes later, I’m pulling into his driveway with shaking hands and a roiling stomach. Did I eat acid tinged lettuce for lunch? Silently I give myself a pep talk as I pull my hair elastic out.

I flip down my mirror and fix my face using the few items I keep in my handbag. Mascara needs another coat. Blush for color I surely won’t need in t-minus five minutes, ChapStick instead of gloss. Gloss gets messy on dicks and lips. I’m comforted by the fact I’m going through the motions. This is what I would do before any normal date. Nothing is odd about my appearance or preparation. It’s comforting.

It’s everything inside me that is strange. He won’t see that part, though. “Breathe, Teala,” I whisper.

Locking my car using the fob, I sling my leather bag over my shoulder and head for his front door. Many of the tools and construction equipment that was here the first time I came over, is now gone. I’m able to see how truly beautiful his house is. Macs is leaning against the doorframe when I round the corner. I startle.

“Hi.”

“Hi back,” Macs replies.

He’s shirtless, with a pair of lounge pants riding low on his chiseled, narrow hips. Even with a quick glance I see the outline of his cock hanging against his leg. I don’t let my gaze stray anywhere too long, and when I meet his eyes, he’s still studying me through narrow, hungry eyes.

“That was fast. Did you speed?”

I take a few more steps until I’m standing in the light shining in front of his door. “I never break the law.”

One brow rises in surprise. “I’d like to agree to disagree on that one. I’m pretty sure that body is illegal in every continent.” He runs his gaze up and down my height one more time, but it’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes this time. There’s nothing subtle and he doesn’t care if I know what he’s doing. With his lip still tucked into his mouth he motions for me to come in.

I’m still shaking my head at his bad pick-up line as I brush against him and into his house. It’s clean. Immaculately so. There’s no sawdust scent or unfinished pieces of random projects in sight. He must sense me judging the space because he clears his throat from behind me. I’m startled back into reality.

“You cleaned?”

“You noticed,” he says.

A white candle is burning softly in the corner of the room on a polished wooden table. There’s a shaggy rug beneath his coffee table now and the kitchen is finished.

“Figured if we were making it special, we shouldn’t fuck in a construction site.” There’s laughter in his voice, but I hear the seriousness too.

This means a lot to him. More than he thinks tonight is worth. I’m not even sure the proper level of enthusiasm that should be shown. He stands next to me, and I take his large, hard hand in mine.

“It looks beautiful. You’re right. If it were a construction zone, I’d demand you get out the GoPro and film us for a pay to play porn site. Construction babe gets drilled. Think of the possibilities. The tools,” I say, raising one brow.

When I meet his gaze, I can tell I made the right call by using humor. His shoulders relax and he kisses the top of my head. He calls me some sexual pet name, but I don’t respond in favor of surveying the rest of the space.

“I got most of it finished with Tahoe, but the cleaning was all me,” he explains, puffing out his chest. “Make yourself comfortable. Wine?”

I nod and smile what I think is a reassuring gesture and take a seat on the couch. Suddenly the bow-chicka-wow-wow phase has arrived and I’m uncomfortable. Because this is how all my normal dates start out. There’s nothing different. The wine. The effort. Everything. He just wants into my pants.

“Do you know me?” I blurt out frantically. “Truly know me?”

He picks his gaze up from a shining wine glass to meet my eyes. He’s unsurprised by my line of questioning, like maybe he anticipated my crazy and he’s ready to defuse it.

“Know you in what regard? I’m trying to remedy the only way in which I’m not familiar with you right now.” Macs holds up the wine glass.

“Because I know you’re a SEAL and now I know your real name and that you don’t do relationships. Sure there are other things I know about you, but I don’t know what makes you you.”

Now he looks a little stunned. He swallows a sip of wine and brings me my glass. I drink it down in four large gulps and brush a drip off my chin with the sleeve of my sweater.

“What makes me me?” I ask.

He’s looking at me with wide eyes.

“I know. I’m a little nuts. Get over it.”

“That was a nice bottle of wine. What did you think of it?”

I look down at the empty glass and feel mortified.

“Want another glass?” he asks, dimples popping.

“Please.”

He sets his glass down and returns with another glass and hands it to me. His hand shakes a little as he extends the cup and that ratchets my anxiety to another level. Why is he nervous?

I take a small sip and actually taste the Chardonnay this time. It’s perfect. The finish is fucking perfect. “Oh my God, this is so good. What is it?” I swirl it around in my glass a few times and take another sip. I moan.

He tells me the name and finally I relax back against the sofa.

“Better?” he asks, sipping his own.

He tells me the blend and year and how he has a few other bottles. He says he loves white wine, but feels like he can’t drink it unless he’s with a woman. I tell him white wine isn’t just for chicks, and he tells me it’s akin to a Piña Colada. Another girly drink he loves to imbibe. I’m laughing in no time. And he’s effectively flipped the mood in the room to something more bearable.

He clears his throat and meets my gaze. “You grew up in a family where your mom was everything and then some. Your dad was important until he broke your trust. It’s why you don’t trust yourself enough to trust. You’re trying to keep plants alive, which tells me you’d like to have a pet eventually.” He pauses to gauge my reaction.

I smile, urging him to continue.

“You’re a nice person. It’s why I’m having a hard time with this.” The smile vanishes from his face.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t usually care enough to do any of this. You know that. And, well, I can’t explain it, but whatever is between us is,” he replies, looking at the ceiling and bringing a thick hand through his gorgeous hair.

“This is more,” I say.

Carina is so wise.

His gaze flicks back to mine. It dips to my chest and back up. “Yes. I don’t know what that means. I don’t want to go on my apps. I don’t want to date other women because all I can think about is you. It started off as a challenge and I want you to know that. My intention was to fuck you and forget you, Teala. I never wanted things to get this far. I still don’t even know how we got here,” he says, waving a muscled arm around the room. “You are sitting there like some fucking illusion and I’m sitting here wondering how you got there and I know damn well how you got there.” His voice is loud, angrier than I think it should be.

I understand everything he’s saying.

“I put you there because you deserve to be there.”

“I feel the same way.” Reaching out, I take his hand in mine.

He closes his fist around my fingers, and I flinch.

His eyes are a little frantic as he looks at my hand. “You’re not a fucking illusion. And you mean more than I want you to.”

This is Macs doing emotions. I didn’t even have to ask him. Carina was right about everything. He’s just as fucking scared as I am.

“I’m scared too. I’ve never done this either.” Suddenly the only desire I have is to take my clothes off and give myself to him. The elephant in the room might disappear when we’re both in our element.

He can’t get to me quick enough. Macs takes my head in his hands and presses his lips against mine. His grip is firm on my head and he tilts my head back. Peeling the sweater off my shoulders, he kisses every inch of exposed skin on each arm as he goes. “I want you so bad. I can’t believe I finally get to call you mine,” he growls before placing a wet kiss on my collarbone.

When my sweater hits the floor, I stand and push him back into a seated position and straddle him. His eyes are wide in surprise and excitement.

“I’ve been yours,” I correct him.

His cock flexes against my core once and then again.

“I’ve been yours,” I say again just to see if I can get the same reaction twice.

The smile he responds with is the most earth-shattering, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I kiss him passionately. It’s madness and depravity. His lips slant against mine like they were made to mold against my mouth. His teeth pull my lip anytime I moan out in pleasure.

“Are we taking this into the bedroom?” I ask. My breaths are frantic and I couldn’t control them if I tried. This is beyond cardio. This is my heart hammering out a furious pace in warning.

With both hands under my bottom, he picks me up and carries me down the hallway and into his dimly lit bedroom. Our kiss stays fierce and tangled as he walks and I don’t even wonder if he’ll drop me. He’s multitasking like a boss and I’m sure if I asked he’d be able to carry out a few other tasks at the same time. Grinning against his mouth, I tell him how hot he’s making me.

He pulls away when we’re at the foot of his bed. One glance and I’m certain his space looks exactly the same as it did before. There’s not a thing out of place. The big pieces of luggage are gone. There is another candle burning on a low dresser that draws my eye.

“I wanted it to smell nice,” he explains. He inhales against my neck. “I didn’t realize you’d smell so delicious on your own.”

I need to ask Charlotte the name of that perfume. Mental note made.

“I would’ve fucked you even if it smelled like sawdust. That was kind of hot, too,” I say, then bite his lip and tease it with my tongue.

Macs’ eyes flutter closed. His eyelashes are thick and fan against the top of his cheeks. This man is so fucking exquisite I know I’ll never tire of looking at him. His hands squeeze my ass a little harder as he lowers my body down his stomach and then presses me against his erection.

He’s hard. He’s ready. Our kiss ends abruptly when he sets me on the edge of his bed and backs up a step or two. He’s watching me, and I know exactly what he wants. This is familiar territory. I strip out of my shirt and bra and stand to peel my pants and thong off. I turn around and bend over the bed to give him a perfect view of what he finally gets to take for his own. I look over my shoulder and he’s staying put. Maybe he wants me to dance. I sway a little bit, creating a song in my head.

“My entire bed smelled like you. Even after I washed everything twice,” he says, voice gruff.

“Did you like that?”

“No,” he replies.

I turn to face him then. “Oh?”

“I woke with a hard-on in the middle of the night thinking you were in bed with me. I had to jerk it out to get back to sleep. Everything about you makes me hungry for more. To answer honestly, yes, I did like it. More than I should.”

At his remark, I make a show of crawling on his bed and with my knees spread I sit down on the top of his comforter. When I rise up, it leaves a wet smudge.

He’s watching me, with a side grin now.

“Oops. Looks like I got a little me on your bed.” I put my hand over my mouth and widen my eyes.

Macs moves then. Straight for me.