CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BLAKE
“If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.”
- Maya Angelou
“One more time. I can do it, I swear.”
“No. No more,” CJ argued, shaking his head.
“Just let me try. I promise, I can do this!” I whined when he continued to shake his head no. “You have to let me try again, CJ! You want me to beg? Fine.” I dropped out of my seat and onto my knees.
“Blake, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Damn man was impossible.
I hobbled towards him on my knees, keeping my hands steepled in prayer-like position. “I swear, I won’t let you down.”
CJ’s eyes narrowed. He was sitting and I was kneeled before him, yet he was still like, three feet taller than me. No matter how many times I accused Rose of putting growth hormones in CJ’s baby bottles, she still refused to admit his size was manufactured. I’d wear her down. I was determined to, because whatever she did to make the perfect specimen that was CJ, I wanted to do the same thing for my children one day.
“Do I look like an idiot? You’ve already failed at this three times. I’m not putting myself through this again.”
My head fell back in defeat. “Ugh! You are so infuriating!”
Snickers were muffled. I was biting back a smile, myself. I lost the battle when I opened my eyes again and saw CJ smiling down at me. The man was already sexier than should be legal, but his smile was lethal. Angels I swear to you, angels fell out of the sky and fell at his feet.
Giving up for the moment, I sat back down in my chair. It had been a week since the impromptu dinner at Rose’s house, and seemingly overnight, CJ had become almost an entirely different person. I would be worried about the sudden and drastic change, but his sisters assured me that the CJ I was getting to know now was the same one they’d grown up with.
More and more, he consumed not just my thoughts, but every part of me. Even now, sitting around a small bonfire with friends, all I wanted was to climb into his lap and cling to him for dear life. I had to force myself not to watch him constantly, to analyze every expression, every word, every subtle move of his body. It scared me, how much I wanted to know him. Needed to know him. What made him tick, what made him hide himself away for so long, what I could do to make him happy. Because he deserved happiness, and God help me, I wanted to be the one who gave it to him.
I’d never felt that way before about anyone. My love for others ran deep. It didn’t take much for me to grow attached and form a connection with another human, but never like this. I couldn’t tell you when exactly it happened, but somewhere down the line, CJ’s happiness and my happiness became one and the same. I could feel him in every breath, every smile, every pinch of my heart - even if he was nowhere in sight. He’d somehow become linked to every part of myself, and it was scaring the daylights out of me.
The problem was, fear never held me back. If anything, fear fueled the fire. I’d never been a runner. It had come back to bite me in the ass more times than I could count, but I never regretted it. What I would regret was the not knowing. The endless stream of ‘what ifs’ that would always haunt me if I ran from pain instead of fighting through it.
Except this time was different; there was no denying that. I had a pattern. A pattern I hadn’t even noticed until now. All the times I’d fought through the fear, my heart was never really on the line. I’d fought for others, but how many times had I actually fought for myself? Truthfully, I couldn’t think of a single one. For days I’d been running through all the times in my past when I could remember standing on the edge of the battlefield, geared up and ready to die for someone else - metaphorically speaking. Taking a beating, verbal or otherwise, had bruised me, but never left any scars.
Because I’d never been personally invested in the outcome.
But now…
If CJ up and decided to go back to the way things were when he shut me down at every turn, it would shatter me. And I wasn’t happy to admit it, but for the first time, I worried picking up the fragments of a broken heart wouldn’t be so easy. Never the type to wallow over a boy, getting back up and putting myself back together had never been a problem. I’d always thought it was because I was strong, that I had enough love for myself not to put so much power into someone else’s hands. Now I wondered if I’d just never cared about anyone enough for them to truly hurt me.
A life without CJ… it was a life I could no longer fathom. Other than my sister, merely the idea of losing someone had never conjured up such an intense amount of fear. But Michelle and I were bonded for life. More than sisters, we were best friends. The only thing that would separate us was death, and until her asshole boyfriend beat the snot out of her, death just hadn’t seemed a possibility. Dying, losing loved ones; those felt like things that happened to other people. Seeing the bruises covering her body, even weeks after being released from the hospital, brought the reality home that life was fragile, short. Something to be cherished and held precious.
It was that reality that had me agreeing to Rose’s scheme to get CJ to open up. Seeing the pain in her eyes, hearing how earnestly she longed to see her son happy and whole again… Did I have any choice other than to help her? I could have found a job. I didn’t need one so badly that I was desperate. I’d agreed to the situation because I saw something in CJ that had me wanting to get closer to him, despite his efforts to push me away. Rose asking for my help only gave me a better excuse. I could pursue whatever the weird draw I felt towards CJ under the guise of doing it for someone else.
We were way past that excuse now. There was no denying that I was starting to have real feelings for CJ, the same man who’d been keeping everyone in his life at arm’s length for the past several years. Meaning I was falling for someone who could relapse at any second and decide to shut the world out again. To shut me out.
Laughter pulled me back to the present. Liam, Malcolm, Sebastian, CJ, Josi, Clara and myself were all circled around the fire we’d set up in Brady’s backyard. Brady was Sebastian’s younger brother and he had a house outside of the city that sat on a few acres of land. He’d lost his wife a few years back and had a young son named Ethan who was with his grandparents for the night. Michelle had disappeared inside the house with Brady, gathering more s’mores supplies since I’d wasted all the ones we’d already brought out.
“Seriously, I can roast a damn marshmallow,” I piped up when I heard my name.
“Babe,” CJ said patronizingly, but I didn’t care. The unexpected endearment overshadowed his condescension. “You already caught your sleeve on fire once, set fire to the grass several times and have marshmallow goop all over your hair and clothes. Let me do the part that involves fire from now on.”
None of what he said was an exaggeration. Still didn’t mean I wanted to be treated like a child.
I unfolded my arms, ignoring the stickiness from said marshmallows. The sugar was like freaking superglue. Parts of my skin and arm hair came off as I peeled them apart. It fracking hurt.
“Whatever, jerkface. I’m going to the bathroom,” I announced before storming off, turning back to stick out my tongue when everyone started laughing again.
“You’ve got a blob of marshmallow stuck to your ass!” Liam called out. He laughed harder when I flipped him off.
When I reached the back door, I slid the heavy glass to the side and stepped into Brady’s dining room. The house itself was smaller in size, but what it lacked in space, it made up for in warmth. Everywhere you looked, you saw life. Though Brady’s wife had died, her presence was still very much present. In photos that hung on walls and sat on the small fireplace mantle, in the handmade curtains on every window, in the almost threadbare crocheted blanket draped over the back of the couch. I suspected he did that for his son, Ethan. CJ had given me a little background when he’d invited me to Brady’s, explaining that Ethan was diagnosed with cancer shortly after his mother passed. I think he told me all of that information so that I would know it was a sensitive subject and not bring it up. Apparently he still had a lot to learn when it came to me and my inability to follow proper social protocols.
I’d driven separately from CJ. He had to work and I wanted to arrive early to help with anything Brady needed. If he was shocked or put out to find me there over an hour before everyone was due to arrive, he didn’t show it. He jumped right into giving me a tour of his home, and because we already know I’m nosey and know no boundaries, I quizzed him on his wife and Ethan the entire time. Went so far as to ask him to point out anything she’d touched that had significant memory for him. At first he seemed hesitant, his voice laced with the slightest hint of pain, like he was trying to hide it but unable to completely. But by the end, he was smiling brightly and talking animatedly. He’d ended the tour with a big, unexpected hug. When I returned his embrace, he whispered into my ear his thanks. Then he excused himself, and I made myself busy with preparing the food we planned to cook out, knowing he was probably feeling emotional and wanting space. By the time he reappeared, I already had the tomatoes and onions sliced, the hamburger patties and hot dogs on a big plate, ready to be taken to the grill and prepared, and the bags of chips poured into bowls.
Making myself useful always took precedence over feeling comfortable, so I never hesitated in making myself at home when I went places. It was rare that I felt like a guest instead of a host, even when I was surrounded by strangers. Being helpful, going out of my way to make others feel at ease, it was just instinct for me. Back home it wasn’t a trait anyone blinked an eye at, because everyone was that way. They were nosey busy-bodies who knew no boundaries. We were southerners, after all. But in New York? Hospitality was akin to having the plague. Brady’s house was the first time since moving to be closer to Michelle that I’d felt even a little bit like I could do this; uproot my life and start over somewhere.
“Hey there, sparky,” Michelle said when she saw me enter the house. I narrowed my eyes at her. If they started calling me that, I was going to start throwing punches.
Brady looked up and studied me, like he was checking to see if I were actually on fire. I rolled my eyes.
“I’m just running to the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”
While I sat on the cold ceramic toilet seat with my dress bunched around my waist and my bladder emptying one tinkle at a time, I lost myself in thought. Which is why I didn’t hear someone barge into the bathroom until the door slammed shut.
“Dammit, Blake! Lock the damn door next time!” Liam yelled. I imagined him standing on the other side with his hands still over his eyes.
“It’s not like I was diddling myself in here, weirdo. You didn’t see anything,” I yelled back as I flushed. He muttered something I couldn’t make out before his heavy footsteps trailed down the hallway.
I turned on the faucet to wash my hands just as the door was thrown open again.
“Jesus! Does anyone knock around here?!”
I expected to see Liam looking back at me, but it was CJ whose eyes I found in the mirror.
“What did Liam see?” He growled through gritted teeth.
I rolled my eyes. “Nothing. I was popping a squat. All the goods were covered.”
CJ let out a long breath. “Good. He can keep his eyeballs then.”
I fought not to laugh when I turned around to find him pouting. Or maybe it was more like brooding, but to me, it looked like a pout. Snaking my still wet hands around his neck, I twirled the hair on his nape and stuck my bottom lip out.
“Does somebody not like sharing?” I asked in a baby voice.
CJ leveled me with a look so full of heat, if I hadn’t been holding on to him, I would have melted onto the floor.
“No, I don’t like sharing. Especially when it comes to you.”
Suddenly, our position seemed a little too intimate. It had felt so natural to press myself up against him. Since the dinner at Rose’s, we’d laughed, talked and spent a lot of time together. Snuggling and some hand holding had even happened here and there, but it hadn’t escalated. I knew it was me that was holding back. CJ was changing too quickly for me to trust it was real. I needed to know I was getting to see the real him before I could put myself out there again. And I needed to know where I stood. Yet I was afraid to ask. For some reason, CJ lowering his walls actually made me a lot more insecure.
Probably because the risk of rejection was almost certain when those walls were up. I knew what I was going to get when I antagonized him. The uncertainty did crazy things to my self-esteem. It allowed me to entertain the possibility of something more. Gave me hope that if he let me in, he wouldn’t just push me right back out when things got hard. The risk of heartbreak was too real. I’d grown attached to him so easily and so quickly. Running from the difficult parts of life wasn’t me, yet there I was, fighting my feelings. Instead of just letting myself enjoy the moment, I was caught up in putting up walls, the very thing I’d always given so many other people crap about. I felt like a hypocrite. To preach that life was too short to push away the good for fear of the bad when I had no idea what I was talking about. I got it, now.
The feel of CJ’s erection pressed against my belly drowned out all thoughts of doubt and uncertainty. He was so hard and big, even through the thick denim of his jeans, and I was so tired of fighting to resist him. It was inevitable, my falling for CJ. Prolonging the fall wouldn’t keep it from happening. The only thing I could do is jump, take that leap of faith. When his head dipped and I found myself in the midst of the sweetest, most affectionate kiss of my life, I knew I was ready. Ready for him and the unknown future and the possibility of walking away with a broken heart that would undoubtedly be worth every second spent in his arms.
His lips were soft and gentle. He made no move to deepen the kiss, seeming content to nibble on my lips and take his sweet time teasing the hell out of me.
I was not so patient.
He’d initiated the kiss, and that was enough of a first move for me, so I didn’t hesitate to kick the heat up a notch. I rolled my hips, grinding his erection against me, but he was too tall and I couldn’t get him where I wanted him. So I hopped up on the bathroom counter, pulling my mouth from his just long enough to get settled, then wrapped my legs around him and yanked him back to me. He growled against my mouth and all control I’d had for the last few seconds was ripped away.
Using his grip on my hair he tugged back, tilting my head up and setting out to destroy me with his tongue - and he so succeeded. I was ruined forever. No man could possibly follow a kiss like this one without coming off like a complete amateur. If I wasn’t aching for him in places located much further south than my mouth, I could have kissed him like that for hours.
“CJ,” I whimpered when he started trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. When he kept going, I almost cried out with glee. Yanking the top of my dress down, he latched onto my nipple the second the cold air hit my exposed skin. Goosebumps spread down my arms and legs, an involuntary shiver snaking up my spine.
Grabbing the hem of my dress, he yanked up, pulling it out from my under my butt and over my head. I sat there in nothing but lacy pink boyshorts while CJ took his time looking his fill. I worked out hard and I knew my body was nothing to be ashamed of, but the way CJ looked at me… I’d never felt so sexy in all my life. I could tell he was trying to get control of himself. His chest heaving up and down, his fists clenching and unclenching. It registered that we still hadn’t locked the bathroom door, but I couldn’t have cared less in that moment.
I wanted to tear off his clothes and study him like he was me, but he dove for me before I had the chance to make a move. One hard tug was all it took for him to rid me of my panties, and before I could register what he was planning, his mouth was on me. There. One swipe of his tongue and I lost all control of my senses.
Without pulling his mouth off of me, he pulled me toward the edge of the counter, tossing my legs over his shoulders. I may have screamed out an, “Oh, hell yes!” when one of his long fingers disappeared inside of me. That his hand quickly darted up to cover my mouth was proof enough that I was being loud, but I couldn’t help it. My own hands latched onto the back of his head, shamelessly pressing his face into me while I ground my hips. He was probably suffocating, but until he tapped out or signaled that he needed air, I didn’t bother myself with worrying.
I finally toppled over the edge into the sweet bliss of an award-winning orgasm when he added a second finger. My head fell back, my eyes squeezed closed and I cried into his palm, though it was probably still loud enough to be heard if anyone were nearby.
It wasn’t until all the aftershocks had stopped and I was nothing but a limp noodle that CJ unlatched his mouth. I expected a little awkwardness, because, ya know, random bathroom oral in someone else’s house. Instead, CJ opened the cabinet beneath me and pulled out a clean washrag, then with tender care, he cleaned between my legs. We were both silent as I dressed and he washed his face.
I wanted to repay the favor, but I knew people would be looking for us. We’d have to resume later. I went to say as much, but he was already pulling open the bathroom door. He looked back at me briefly, nodded and walked out. I took a minute to compose myself, trying to make sense of his abrupt departure. I mean… I didn’t even get a chance to give him a high five for that kick ass orgasm.
Dealing with the possibilities as to why CJ’s leaving felt so much like rejection wasn’t something I was in the mood for, so I focused on taming my hair and doing the best I could to make myself not look like I’d just had a man’s head between my thighs. Once I felt steady on my legs again, I made my way back outside and immediately scanned the chairs for CJ. Except he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I started to turn back to the house, thinking I probably walked right past him somehow, but Malcolm called out and stopped me.
To his credit, he didn’t comment on my disheveled appearance, but I wasn’t crazy about the pitiful look he was giving me.
“If you’re looking for CJ, he just left. Said he had an emergency come up and had to take off.”
Bullshit.
Fucking coward was running, and like hell was I going to let him.