Cruise

I hang up the phone and look inside the front window. Turning it over in my hand, I’m not sure what to think about that call.

From the porch, I can see Clara walking through the living room, fresh out of the shower with wet hair. Watching her worry that bottom lip, I feel I might not be the only one with shit to settle. Do I want to open that door to my past? Am I ready? Is it time? Will it put it to rest once and for all?

The screen of my phone lights up, a photo of Clara and me lying on a blanket in the backyard under the stars stares back me.

“Hey,” she says, causing me to look up. Standing in the doorway, she leans against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “I need to talk to you about some stuff going on.”

I slide to the left, giving her room on the swing to sit down. “Yeah? What’s on your mind?” She sits but keeps her eyes on her lap. “Talk to me, Dove.” That’s when I notice light bruising on her cheek. “What happened?”

I can see her reverting to her secrets and the wall rising around her, but then she surprises me and opens up. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Was this here last night?”

“I wore makeup,” she says, “I didn’t want you to come home to my mess. I need to talk to you about my brother. He’s been acting erratically. Not himself.”

“Teenage hormones?”

“It’s not hormones. It’s genes.”

“Genetics?” I press her knees down as they start to find their way to her chest. She doesn’t need to feel vulnerable around me, and I don’t want her closing herself off.

“My father’s to be precise.”

Red flags fly up. “What are you saying? Did he do—”

“He hit me.”

“What the fuck? When?” I stare at her sweet face where he hit her.

“Two nights ago—”

“You should have told me. I would have talked to him.”

“I talked to him and he apologized.”

“When I say talk, I mean punch in the fucking face. An apology is the least he should have done. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but I need to go back to my mom’s house. I’d like you to go with me.”

I’m sidetracked from her brother when she invites me to meet her family. This is a big step neither of us has formally taken. “Why are you going back?”

“I didn’t get to finish talking with my mom and I feel like I need to try to talk to Vaughn again.”

“No.”

“No what?”

I take her hand in mine and our fingers weave together. “You shouldn’t talk to him. You should have him arrested.”

“My family needs me.”

“I need you.”

“And I need you. That’s why I’m asking you to be a part of this.” Leaning back, I push off with my feet. She likes to swing out here. She relaxes and when she’s relaxed, she opens up to me. “Cruise, it’s a lot to ask. I know this. It’s not under pretty circumstances, but I have to make sure my mom and Toby are okay. And Vaughn.”

What the fuck? “He hit you, Clara.”

She’s withholding, looking away from me. “We’ve been through a lot as a family. He’s just acting out. I can’t give up on him at the first signs of difficulty.”

“I admire your will, but what if he does worse to you next time?” No man or boy should ever hit a woman. I hate the Senator, but he never hit my mom.

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that and I’m not willing to take the chance with your safety.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Her defensive tone catches me off guard. “You’re right. I’m not stopping you. I’m asking you not to go.”

“I’m going, so I’m asking you if you will go with me.”

“If you’re going, I’m going.”

A winning grin appears. “Thank you.” I nod, but look at my phone again. She asks, “Who were you talking to?”

“The family lawyer.”

“Wow. What’s going on?”

“Duty calls. I’ve been asked to make an appearance.”

“What does that mean?” The space between us is closed and her head leans on my shoulder. I like being covered in her. It makes me feel protected in a weird way, like I can hide away with her behind that curtain of silk.

“It means the Cristleys have to come together as a family unit.”

Sitting up, her surprise is evident in her expression, concern forming a line between her eyebrows. I’m tempted to rub it away, hating when I worry her, but I don’t because this is my life. “I don’t understand.”

“My father has been rallying for his political party. Every so often, the family comes together to support his agenda. This time it’s an interview where he’ll discuss his life, his career, and the report will highlight his family.”

“Your family is full of assholes.”

She doesn’t flinch or drop to pray. “You’ve broken your habit with flying colors.”

Smiling, she replies, “Yes. Your dirty mouth has a way of rubbing off on me.”

I squeeze her leg. “I like rubbing off on you.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about swearing anymore?”

“Because we’re not. How much time do we have?”

“Three hours.”

“C’mon, let’s go rub off together.”

“So dirty.”

Waggling my eyebrows, I pull her from the swing and lead her inside.

* * *

With the blinds closed and the curtains hiding the last of the light that wants to filter inside, I can see the stars. I tighten my arm around her back, her body curled around me, both of us comforted in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

I don’t know how we got here so fast—love has a way of working its magic when you least expect it. The universe having pity on me, and finally showing me the light . . . or in this case, the stars on the ceiling. My little dove flew right into my life when I needed her most. When I had given up hope, along came Clara.

She whispers, “What’s on your mind?”

“The stars.” She shifts and looks up, her body not tensing much, but enough for me to notice. I say, “My sister Paige used to have stars like this in her bedroom. They covered her ceiling and down half her walls. We would lay on the floor in the middle of the room with my brother, Matty, and search for the constellations.”

“Did she have the constellations mapped out on her ceiling?”

“No.” I laugh. “But that didn’t stop us from looking.”

“Sometimes we have to hold on to faith. Just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“Like you. That’s how I feel about you. Here we were in the same city, moving like magnets around each other.”

“Until we crashed together.” She points at the ceiling. “There are twenty-one stars.” Her lips purse as she blows out and then blinks several times. “They gave me comfort, something to focus on when my mind couldn’t find a happier place . . . when bad things happened to me.”

She doesn’t have to go into detail for me to understand it was during her darkest times that she found comfort in the stars above, even if they came in the form of plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I’m okay, Cruise,” she whispers, the tips of her fingers trying to tickle my chest.

The tensed anger filling my muscles slowly starts to drain away. She’s all right. Taking her hand, I bring it to my mouth, and kiss.

She says, “Now they give me comfort for a different reason. There is one for each year of my life.” There’s no hesitation as she opens up. She’s never used her out—donut. I remain quiet, listening to all she’s willing to share. “One for each year I survived that monster, and thrived thereafter.”

When her body becomes heavy against mine again, I say, “You deserve a sky full of stars, Dove.”

“Maybe one day I’ll have it.” She runs her hand over my chest and down lower, awakening my body. “How tired are you?”

Taking her hand, I put it on my erection. “Wide awake.”

She giggles, but slips out of my arms and moves down under the covers. Her hands wrap around the base of my cock and my balls tighten. When she takes the head in her mouth, I flip the covers off so I can watch my girl get me off.

Hot. Wet. Tight. “This is what I hope heaven feels like.”

Cold air seeps in when she smiles, but she closes her mouth around me and takes me deeper. I want to fuck her mouth, but I also worry I’ll hurt her. I’m aware of my size, and her small mouth, as much as it’s tempting to shove in until her throat closes around me. That’s something we still need to build up to.

In the meantime . . . “Fuck, you feel amazing. You want to swallow because I’m about to come?”

There’s just enough light to not only appreciate the view of watching her take me into her sweet mouth, but also see her eyes lift to meet mine. Lightning strikes, my body forcing my orgasm out. Holding her head, I thrust between her lips as they hold steady and tight around me until I’m free from the coiling and she’s swallowed around me. “Fuck, Dove.”

Lying back, my arms fall to the mattress beside me and I close my eyes. She doesn’t climb back up next to me, but on me. Her head rests on my chest, her perfect breasts against my stomach. I start to stroke her hair and try to regulate my breathing. I want to give her the words I feel inside, but I don’t want to do it after a blow job even if it is the best I ever had.

She tilts her head to look at me. “It was good? I did all right?”

“All right?” How does she not know how incredible that was? “C’mere.” I spread my arms open and she moves to cuddle against me. I kiss her swollen lips, and then say, “It was amazing. You’re amazing.”

A smile in the soft light appears. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“I know you do. I want the same for you.” Shifting my arm up, I angle to move. “Let me show you how amazing you make me feel.”

The taste of her on my tongue could make a dead man rise. I’m just a mere mortal, not immune to this goddess and her powers over me. Within minutes, her desire coats my mouth and my fingers and I lie back on the mattress closing my eyes and savoring her flavor.

Her breath comes harsh, filling the dark room. I open my eyes to see the stars glowing above me, and I smile, thankful for every last damn one, and say my own prayer for many more to come.