Chapter 11
Laura didn’t know why she’d come to Charlie’s house after rehearsal. The actual dancing had been going better, but everything still hurt. The hurting put her in a shit mood, and the thought of not seeing him made everything feel worse. And, if they were going to have a relationship, even a fling, he’d see her at less than her best from time to time.
And less than her best she was. She sat on his couch with ice packs strapped to her knees with ace bandages over grey sweatpants that she’d pilfered from one of her brothers a decade ago. She wasn’t sure which one—probably Max because Joaquin had never done sports. They had multiple holes, and she wasn’t sure if the holes were from moths or from how much she’d loved them over the years. She may not be very close to either of her brothers now, but having Max’s old sweats comforted her.
After the group class in the morning, she hadn’t had time to see the trainer before rehearsing Carmen all afternoon. She’d gritted her teeth and gotten through, but even getting worked on for a half hour after the marathon rehearsal had ended wasn’t enough to keep her from hobbling to her car. She hadn’t even changed or showered. So, on top of looking like an old woman from the waist down, she stunk.
And her hair was a mess, too. She patted down the flyaways, and then stopped herself. She couldn’t care this much about how Charlie thought she looked. He was her fake husband, totally temporary. But she liked how he looked at her and was afraid that if he saw her like this, he wouldn’t want her anymore.
She didn’t even know why she was there. When he’d given her a key, she’d been sure that she’d never use it. But the pull of seeing him, just being in his space was growing stronger for her with each passing day.
It was so weird that they were in the most serious kind of relationship possible, but they hadn’t seen each other at their worst. They still had all the lust and good feelings, and none of the real issues. Everything still felt exceptional. Nothing was normal.
Soon, he would see that she was broken and fragile. And she didn’t allow anyone to see her like that. Not even Lola, which made living with her grandmother stressful. But, as much as her grandmother had professed that she was never going back to Cuba, Laura didn’t trust that Lola would stay at this point.
After trying and failing to read one of the fantasy novels that lined Charlie’s bookshelves, she turned on the television. Just sitting around, watching something, wasn’t a luxury she had allowed herself. Her parents had never had a television, and she’d never felt like entering the fray of what to watch among the other dancers at school, so she’d never gotten attached to any shows.
If her failing body forced her to retire, she’d have plenty of time to sit on a couch and watch television. At twenty-eight she would have decades to learn the art of the binge watch. She flipped channels until she saw a familiar shock of red hair and her cousin’s raspy, laughing voice.
Carla was cajoling Jonah on camera about wanting to see some architectural feature in Rome. He was bitching because he wanted gelato. They were so funny together on-screen, and their chemistry was electric as Carla explained the history of some half-destroyed temple. Jonah merely grumbled along like a big toddler until they found a gelato stand. After that, the only grumbling came when some guys on the street hollered something vulgar at Carla.
Laura had never understood why people watched travel shows before. Not until halfway through the second episode of what looked like a marathon. Why not just go someplace? But this was actually entertaining. And, if people couldn’t afford to travel, it gave them a bigger picture on the world.
And for the hour and half she sat in Charlie’s dark living room, watching his work, she forgot how much her knees ached. It wasn’t until a key turned in the lock, and footsteps sounded on the foyer floor that she remembered to feel self-conscious again. She moved to grab the remote and turn off the program. It was weird that she was watching Charlie’s program while sitting in his house, waiting for him. Wasn’t it?
She was a few seconds too late. He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed the side of her neck. As though this tableau was a totally normal sort of thing. If they had a real marriage, this would be normal.
“This is one of my favorite episodes.” He hadn’t moved away when he caught a whiff of her, so that was saying something. If he’d only been interested in sex with her, her odor certainly would have turned him off.
“It is?”
He brushed his hand over her shoulder and the bare skin of her chest. A bolt of electricity went up and down her spine as she melted into his casual touch. “Yeah, Jonah convinced us to shoot in Croatia. He’d been there on vacation a few times and wanted to show people that it wasn’t what they’d seen in the early ‘90s on the evening news anymore. There’s still evidence of the war, but it’s beautiful, and the wine is plenty.”
His wistful tone made her wonder if he was leaving something out. Had there been a woman in Croatia? Was sleeping around while he was travelling sort of his thing? She hadn’t been able to find any pictures of girlfriends online, not after his disastrous first marriage, so maybe he just kept things off shore?
Her body stiffened, and he seemed to sense it. It was then that he noticed the melted cold packs on her legs.
“Are you okay?”
She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that she was worried that he’d slept with every woman in Croatia. And Rome. And how many other shows had they done in the past year? Her knees had stopped throbbing, but a jealous little bird was inside her head, flapping its wings off.
“I’m fine.”
He straightened up and moved towards the kitchen. “Are you sure? I think I have some pain relievers in the kitchen.”
His mentioning pills doused her jealousy in a split second. “No. I don’t take pills.”
“Not even a Tylenol? Or an ibuprofen?”
“They don’t really help in the long run, and they’re not good for the heart.”
“So you’re just in pain all the time?”
Yes. That was her way of life. Choosing blind devotion to dance had been a terrible way to keep from becoming her mother. But she knew that she had never wanted to rely on two things—pills or a man—for her to feel okay.
Sure, she knew that over-the-counter pain relievers were a completely different beast than the pills her mother’s “doctor” prescribed her. At first, they’d been for a fall she’d taken. Now, they were just to keep her steady. She also had pills for her nerves that Laura knew, but didn’t want to know, could never be mixed with wine.
It had been such a relief to leave her parents’ house to live at the academy. At eight, she shouldn’t have been responsible for making sure her mom didn’t overdose. Still, every time she visited, she surreptitiously flushed pills down the toilet. Her mother had never said anything to her, and Laura had the feeling that her father had taken to hiding and doling out the pills once Laura had left. Laura was only getting rid of the stash he hadn’t found.
She touched her cheek, remembering the time she’d tried to tell her father that her mother had a drug problem.
He’d slapped her so hard that her jaw still had a click to it. After that, she hadn’t tried to tell anyone else. The price was too high.
“Hey, where did you go?”
She hadn’t realized she’d drifted into thoughts in the past until Charlie sat down next to her with a bottle of water.
“I’m right here.” She smiled at him, grateful that he’d caught her before she’d fallen into melancholy. “Thank you.”
“Have you eaten?”
She looked at the phone sitting next to her, surprised by how late it was. “No.”
Turning his body toward her, he grabbed her shoulder. It was another pedestrian touch, not meant to be arousing, but everything with him turned her on. It was just lust, she tried to remind herself. It would fade, and they would go their separate ways. They would get a divorce, and be friendly exes when they had to see each other around Carla and Jonah. It would all work out fine.
Her hormones were not convinced. Unconsciously, she leaned into this man who had ruled her senses the other night.
“How about you grab a shower, and I’ll fix us something to eat?”
“You cook?”
He smirked. “I don’t burn boiled water.”
When he stood up, he held out his hand to help her. Although she was feeling kind of used up these days, she could have gotten off the couch herself. Before sleeping with Charlie, she would have slapped his hand away. She prided herself on not expecting anyone to help her with anything.
But when she took his hand, it was as though something clicked into place inside her chest. His sincere smile warmed her in a way that full-on sex hadn’t managed to in ages. At least not before this man. Sure, she wanted Charlie, but she was also starting to like him.
He didn’t comment when she moved with stiff legs toward the bathroom, which she appreciated.
“Anything you don’t eat?”
“Nothing that’s not veggies and fish or chicken.”
“Such an exciting palate, you have.”
It couldn’t hurt to let him in a little bit, and telling him why her diet was so restrictive was so minor that she felt like she could let it go. “Training diet.”
He didn’t respond until she was halfway down the hallway to the bathroom in his room. “If you wanted to cheat, I could help you work it off later.”
* * * *
Charlie pulled the salmon out of the oven, leaving the parchment packages tied. When she turned the water off, he was throwing together a salad. If he hadn’t heard her stomach gurgling on the couch, he would have joined her in the shower and made good on his promise to help her work up an appetite.
He didn’t know why her reticence to tell him anything or accept anything from him turned her on. But it just made him want to know more about her. Maybe it was because he had to earn every damn thing with her that making her dinner felt like a holy mission.
Although he wanted to fuck her, ever since pulling into his driveway and seeing her car there unexpectedly, he wanted to make sure she was satisfied in every way. She’d looked so beautiful on his couch with nothing but the glow of the television lighting her features. He liked that she was in his home, watching his show. She was going to put on his T-shirt and eat his food.
And then he was going to kiss every inch of her body, and fuck her until she forgot that anything hurt.
She came into the kitchen wearing one of his dress shirts and a pair of sleep shorts she’d left there last week. He would not ask her where she’d gotten the men’s sweatpants she’d been wearing before. That was something a jealous lover did. He had a strong impulse to rip them off her and fuck her on the counter, and that was another thing a jealous lover did.
He was not that man, and she would run away from him if he acted like that man.
“Smells delicious.”
“You didn’t give me a whole lot to work with, but I did what I could.” Lies. He’d started keeping food she could eat at his house, hoping it would act like cheese in a mousetrap.
He slid a plate and another bottle of water in front of her before grabbing his own and sitting next to her. He’d moved the barstools closer, deliberately, and he was heartened when she didn’t scoot away from him.
Barely, he resisted the urge to run his fingers through her wet hair. He couldn’t wait to get close enough to smell his soap and shampoo all over her. And he didn’t even stop his mind from assuming that she’d come to him with the intention of having sex again.
If she was just here for food and—he didn’t know—comfort, he would give that to her. But his brain couldn’t stop making up scenarios for how he’d touch her if she let him again. His wife was growing to be quite the sexual obsession. In most marriages, that might be a good thing, but he wasn’t so sure that it was in their case. She could decide to pull the plug at any time given the circumstances of their union. He had the feeling that if he pushed her too hard to give him more, she would run fast and far.
She cleaned her plate in record time, and licked the corner of her mouth, where some dressing had landed.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Silence stretched out between them. It was heavy and promising. Her obsidian-colored gaze bore into his for a moment before she gave him a once-over. He was in his uniform of dress-pants and a shirt like the one she was wearing, nothing spectacularly interesting, but he felt like he was being appraised. And, surprisingly for him, he liked it.
She licked her lips again, this time for no reason at all. He didn’t move—wouldn’t dare. If his wife wanted to seduce him with nothing but a look, he would let her.
Her gaze snagged on his lengthening cock, and he couldn’t help but smirk when her eyes got wide and glassy. Almost tentatively, she cupped a hand over him. He groaned, and she looked back up over his face.
“Every time I see you.”
She let out a light laugh. “Even when I’m stinky and in sweatpants?”
He nodded. “Even then.” He huffed when she squeezed his cock even tighter. “Even more than when you’re all dressed up.”
“Why?” She must not be able to see how thoroughly enchanted he was with her. Maybe he had to demonstrate that through worshipping her body. Maybe she only understood emotion when it was backed up by movement. Maybe the whole ice queen thing wasn’t an act?
“Because I can see you.”
“And you like what you see?” She went to pull her hand away, but he grasped her wrist. He hated that she sounded so uncertain about him. Hated that he’d given her reason to.
“Every damned thing I see I like.” He let her wrist go, stood in front of her and took her face between his palms. Her mouth formed a shocked “o” before he pressed his lips to hers.
She dug her fingers into his sides, spread her legs, and pulled him closer. Their bodies were flush, and he loved the feel of her against him, but he needed her on a flat surface.
He grabbed her thighs, which she latched around his hips and lifted her up. The counter was the closest horizontal spot, but it was covered in glasses and plates. He broke away from her mouth to make sure he wouldn’t drop her—not sexy at all—on the way to the couch.
“I loved seeing you here when I got home.” She didn’t respond, just kissed him again. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything that sappy; he didn’t want to scare her away. But he wanted her to know that he felt something for her that was beyond the fact that she made him hard whenever he caught a glimpse of her. Even though she was like his own personal, walking porn video, he wanted to hear her laugh almost as much as he wanted to bury himself inside her.
Once he’d gotten them both to the couch safely, he pressed her down with his pelvis, and she rewarded him with a moan of approval. He sat back on his haunches, and began unbuttoning her shirt.
He couldn’t say anything because he was too busy looking at her and being happy that she belonged to him. For now, she was his girl.
“Say something.” Her husky voice took him by surprise.
“You need me to talk to get off?” He reached the bottom button and opened his shirt. Her creamy skin called out for his tongue, but it wouldn’t do if she needed him to talk so she could come.
She shook her head. “But I like it.”
“I aim to please.” So many filthy scenarios that he could lay out for her filled his mind. He had a hard time choosing just one. He took her nipples between the thumb and index fingers of his hands and she arched back. Her eyes blinked closed, and she gasped. “I love how responsive you are wherever I touch you.”
He scooted back and moved one hand to her cotton panty-covered pussy. She pressed into his hand like she was offering herself up to him. “And when I touch you here, I like how you forget who we are and that this is all supposed to be fake.” Too sappy because she stopped the lewd press of her crotch. “It makes me so hard to think of you getting all wet because I touched you.”
He slipped his fingers between the band of her panties and her skin, and found her all ready for his cock. But it wasn’t time yet. Soon, just not yet.
“When did you get this wet for me?” She didn’t respond, so he moved his fingers back up to her nipples and pinched. “When?”
Her eyes blinked back open, her gaze full of fire and lust. She fucking slayed him. “When you touched my neck when you came in.”
“That’s when you got all soaking wet?” He slipped his hand back in her panties and pressed a finger inside her.
“Yes.” Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
“Why didn’t you ask to sit on my face right then, gorgeous?” She tightened around him more the dirtier his words got. He’d give her what she needed then. “I would have obliged, and licked you until you cried for me to stop.”
“I needed to shower.”
“I don’t fucking care. If this pussy needs licking, I’ll do it.” He pressed his thumb to her clit and she squeezed her legs together. “Did you rub yourself in the shower?”
Her eyes shot open as though she’d been caught. “Y—yes.”
He pulled his hand out of her and slapped her thighs open. “I don’t like to hear that.” He stood up to pull her panties off her legs. “Take the shirt off.”
She wiggled it off and lay naked in front of him. “You too.”
“Are you going to show me how your rubbed your clit if I do?” She nodded. When her hand wasn’t in between her legs, working for an orgasm by the time he got his shirt open, he put his hands on his hips and stopped. “Then, do it. Show me how you like your pussy rubbed. I’ll remember so that the next time you need to get off and I’m around, I’ll do it for you.”
She got to work between her legs and it barely speeded him up undressing. He had to keep his promise, to watch her do this to herself. It was so fucking hot, especially when she closed her eyes and the muscles in her forearm strained. She liked a hard touch.
When he felt like she was about to come—short breaths, quicker strokes—he sped up, pulling a condom out of his pants pocket. He’d known he wasn’t going to make it to his bedroom with her tonight, so he’d grabbed one while she was in the shower. If he’d have known she needed to get off then—
Once he was naked and suited up, he said, “Open your eyes, Laura.” This time she didn’t hesitate. “Do you want to get off on your hand or my cock?”
“Both.”
“Greedy girl.” He crawled over her body, wincing when his dick nudged up against her belly. He took her mouth again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. With one hand, he guided his cock to her entrance and pushed in. “Put your hand back down there, greedy girl.”
When he felt her fingers making tight circles around her clit again, he sat up so he could watch her touching herself while he was deep inside her. He pulled her legs up in the air, so her ankles crossed behind his neck.
Between the clutch of her pussy, the brush of her fingers on every stroke, and the sight of her tightened up and close to breaking, he felt like he could barely hold on. He didn’t even let himself zero in on the way her tits bounced every time he got all the way inside her. She was going to kill him for sure. Or maybe he was dead, and this was what heaven was like. He didn’t deserve it, but he wouldn’t stop himself from taking it.
He licked her calf and buried any earnest words in her skin when she tightened up around him and cried out. Shit. He needed to orgasm her at least one more time, but he couldn’t hold out. She was too perfect.
He didn’t just come; he exorcised demons in the moments that followed. He’d hadn’t felt like he was at home anyplace in years. But inside Laura he felt a peace spread through him that came from the vicinity of his chest.
Instead of saying it, saying that he was starting to need her, he licked the skin stretched over her calf muscle and winked in the promise of debauching her further.