Chapter Fourteen—Linc
When I didn’t hear from Sky all day, I decided that we needed to have another, more thorough conversation about what was going to happen. I was relieved that she still wanted to marry me—but I was damn frustrated at the same time. It should not be this difficult to get a woman to cross the line, I thought, remembering the way she kept leading me on and then pushing me away at the last minute. The night before, she’d done it again, and I’d gone along with it—after all, I’m not an animal—but if we were going to be married, even as a sham, we both needed to be on the same page.
I decided I needed to do something more showy, something that would draw Sky in. The night before, she’d still been worked up over the incident in her office, and I had handled the situation with my usual bullish approach. Obviously, Sky needed a little more delicate handling than the girls I picked up at bars—I kept forgetting that. Finding out she was only twenty-two had shaken me. She’s probably only been with one or two guys in her entire life. You can’t expect her to just be ready to drop her panties right away just because you feel her up.
So I dug into the bag of tricks I’d had when I was a younger, less cynical guy and drove down to a florist’s shop in town. I hadn’t been to a flower shop in ages—I didn’t even know if women still liked getting flowers, or if Sky for some reason might hate getting flowers. But as I was wandering around the humid little shop, I remembered there were a couple of vases in her apartment. I’d noticed them when I’d gone in to do repairs. They’d been empty, but their presence seemed to indicate that she liked flowers. Maybe she hadn’t had the extra cash to buy fresh ones, or maybe she didn’t like buying them for herself.
“Can I help you, sir?” I turned around at the sound of an older woman’s voice and managed to summon up what I hoped was a reassuring smile. She’d obviously taken one look at me—big guy, muscles, tall enough to almost have to duck to get around all the hanging baskets in the shop—and thought I was in the wrong place, but was too dangerous to kick out directly.
“I hope you can,” I said. “I’ve gotten myself in kind of a pickle with a woman I care about.” The woman looked at me doubtfully for a few more seconds; she was maybe fifty-five, I thought, letting her hair go gray the natural way instead of trying to cover it up. She was starting to lose the firm, tight look to her face, but I could tell that she had probably been gorgeous—maybe even close to as pretty as Sky—when she’d been younger.
“What kind of pickle?” I wanted to roll my eyes; the woman obviously thought there was a good chance that I’d beaten my wife or girlfriend in some violent rage and was now trying to make amends by buying some flowers for her. I didn’t hurt her, I hurt someone trying to hurt her. I didn’t even bother trying to explain the details to this woman.
“I forgot our anniversary,” I lied. “I try to be a good boyfriend, but you know how it is. You put an alarm in your phone to remind you of something, and then you get so wrapped up in everything else.”
I made myself stop there; if I kept going, I was definitely going to push the story too far. Always know when you’ve made your tale tall enough, one of my Navy buddies, a guy named Jules Schmidt, had always said. Of course in his case, his tall tales were mostly for the sake of getting out of trouble with his own wife—but I figured it applied in most situations.
The woman gave me another long look and I almost considered just finding another flower shop, but then she relaxed. “Do you know what kind of flowers she particularly likes? We’ve got some great things here in the back...”
“I’m honestly pretty clueless when it comes to these things,” I told her. I wasn’t in a million years about to tell this woman that I had no idea what kind of flowers Sky liked because I’d only known her a little over a week.
By the time I let myself into Sky’s apartment with the flowers, the rest of my plan was more or less figured out. I thought about the possibility of just letting things stand as they were; after all, she’d agreed to marry me, hadn’t she? She was still going to go through with it, even though she had every right to back out. Why was I trying so hard to get her to be something more than she was to me? Why would I risk pushing her away entirely by trying for more than she said she wanted?
The heat simmering along my groin gave me the answer, even if I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted the girl. I wanted her more than I’d even wanted Lisa when I’d first met my ex-wife, and Lisa had led me on a merry fucking chase to get her into bed. The difference was that I’d known it was a game with Lisa—I didn’t think Sky had even an ounce of game in her.
I debated leaving the note on the door, but in the end I decided to leave it with the flowers; I didn’t want her to be prepared in any way for what she would see when she came into her apartment at the end of the day—and I didn’t doubt that she would go straight to her apartment, not to mine. I took one last, quick look around. I’d filled both of the vases with the best flowers—at least according to the florist—and I’d even sprung for a box of chocolate-covered strawberries to go with it. “God, I’m such a fucking tool,” I muttered to myself, ducking out of the apartment and locking the door behind me before I could give into my second thoughts.
When I heard the knock at my door, I had dinner ready: bacon-wrapped asparagus, pork tenderloin, and roasted carrots. I’d wracked my brain at the grocery store to try to figure out what kind of meal would set the tone I wanted, and remembered at the last minute—when I was at the cash register—that Sky had mentioned how much she loved roasted carrots. I was not about to let any little scrap of knowledge about the woman I wanted to win over go to waste. Know your enemy, gentlemen—but more important, know your woman! I hadn’t taken that advice from Screwball Lenny in BUD/S when it had come to Lisa, but I hadn’t ignored it since.
Sky had obviously taken a few minutes to change out of her work clothes: Her hair was down, and she was in a comfortable-looking dress, the makeup off of her face. She looked almost as fresh, almost as delicious and edible as she had the morning she’d used my shower the first time. “I got your note,” she said, smiling slightly.
“I thought we should hash out the last few details, if you’re still on board,” I told her.
“Of course I’m still on board,” Sky said, shaking her head at me. “If I wasn’t, I would have told you. I even—I even have a bridesmaid. I guess she’d be a bridesmaid, anyway.” Sky frowned.
“If you have a witness, that would be great,” I said. “And if she wants to wear a nice dress, and whatever else—whatever would make you happy.” Sky looked at me with an expression like shock.
“Whatever would make me happy?” she blinked slowly and shook her head, and for a second all I could think about was kissing the confusion off of her face, claiming her mouth as mine and pressing her body against me until she had absolutely no doubts at all about my intentions. The heat that kept steadily pooling between my hips intensified.
“I know it’s a rushed wedding and all, but I want you to be happy with it too,” I replied. “I mean—we don’t really have the time to make a big to-do about it, or schedule a church ceremony or anything like that, but I don’t want you to go into this feeling like you made a bad decision.”
Sky just stared at me again, and I wondered if I hadn’t pushed her too hard after all. I hadn’t even really gotten to the good part of things yet.
“The flowers were... just beautiful,” Sky said finally. “And yeah, I guess we should talk about things... about what it’s going to be like, and what... how we’re going to pull this off.”
“I figured you’d probably be hungry,” I said, leading her into the kitchen. “We can talk—and I mean talk—over dinner.” Sky smiled slightly, and seemed to finally be losing that shell-shocked look on her face.
“You made roasted carrots,” she said, the smile deepening.
“I remembered,” I told her.
“I am hungry, actually. I was just so—so stunned, I guess—when I went into my apartment and saw the flowers and the note.”
“I wanted you to understand that I wasn’t just apologizing because I was afraid you’d back out,” I said.
“You know,” Sky observed, even as I started to fill a plate for her, “if you had been half this considerate and understanding and sweet when I first showed up, we could probably already be married and you wouldn’t be sweating it so much.” I nearly dropped the tongs in my hand and turned to stare at her.
“What do you mean?” Sky giggled, and God, the sound was just irresistible. I remembered pushing her up against the counter the night before, nearly taking her right then and there, and it was the next thing to impossible not to try it again immediately. I took a breath and forced my brain to focus.
“I mean, if you’d been like this when we first met, and then told me about the situation with Lisa and Jazmin, I might have offered to be your fake wife sooner,” Sky said. Oh good. That—that makes sense, I thought. For just a second, I’d thought she was saying she would have wanted to get married for real.
“But if I’d been like this when we first met, none of this would be special,” I pointed out, finishing up with her plate and handing it to her. Once I had my own dinner in hand, we both sat down at my table.
“So what did you want to talk about?” I pressed my lips together and tried to think—really think—about the best way to approach what I had in mind.
“I think we should live together,” I said. Nothing like the direct approach. “I mean—it would look suspicious if we’re married but living in different apartments, wouldn’t it?” Sky looked at me sharply, and for a fraction of a second I was reminded of the older woman at the florist.
“If you’re trying to convince me...”
“You can stay in the guest room,” I told her quickly. “No one has to know where in my apartment you’re sleeping—that’s between us—but wouldn’t you agree that if it ever does come up, it would open up a lot of questions about what the hell we’re doing if you’re living down the hall from me even after we’re married?”
Sky stared into my eyes for a long moment and then nodded. “That makes sense,” she admitted. “I hate to say it, but it does.”
“Would it be so bad to live with me?” I grinned at her, trying to keep my nerves—and the need that threatened to make my blood boil—at bay. “You’ll have your own room, and you can come and go as you please. Besides, considering how often you’ve been over here since you moved in, it won’t be that different.”
Sky shrugged, but I could see the color creeping into her cheeks. “I guess it just feels different because I’ve never lived with a guy before,” she said quickly. “And—because—you know... you’ll technically be my husband, and because of last night.”
“Listen to me, Sky,” I said, and she looked up from her plate. Her lips looked as kissable as ever, and her eyes had that wide, innocent thing going on in them yet again. That look that made me want to throw her down on the bed and touch her and taste her until she was moaning uncontrollably, until she was as eager for me as I was for her.
God, you know she’d make the hottest noises, and she’d probably taste like honey... she’s the type who’ll get soaking wet in an instant, once she lets her guard down.
I took a deep breath. “I am never going to do anything you don’t want. I won’t crowd you.”
“So you’re okay with me—with me never having sex with you, if I don’t want to?” I nodded.
“I am okay with you never kissing me again if you don’t want to, after the wedding,” I said. “If it’s what you want, then I won’t even touch you.” Even if it kills me not to get another feel of that tight ass, or those gorgeous tits, I thought—but very, very carefully didn’t say.
“Then I guess we can make this work,” Sky said, brightening a little bit.
I had to wonder what was going on in her head; I had to wonder what the problem might be. It was as obvious as the damn sun at noon that she wanted me—at least, it had been every time we’d gotten close to doing anything—but she kept pushing me back at the last instant. And now this. I reminded myself that she wasn’t all that experienced, that she’d probably only been with a couple of guys, but somehow it didn’t seem to stack up even with that in mind.
Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks, all at once: it wasn’t that Sky wasn’t all that experienced. She was completely inexperienced. She hadn’t only been with a couple of guys; she’d never been with anyone. Fuck. No wonder.
I wanted to say something, but it would only have made her more self-conscious, that much I knew. But it explained everything: the way she would come on so strong and then, as soon as we got into really interesting territory, she would just shut down, the way she blushed, and of course the fact that she kept insisting that there be nothing between us other than paperwork. She’d gotten to twenty-two without losing her virginity. Obviously it was special to her. She was saving herself—maybe not for marriage, but probably for something a little special.
I told Sky that I could handle the dishes while she went to get her things, to move them into my place. I wasn’t just being a nice guy. After spending all of dinner trying not to slobber on her, I needed her out of the apartment for long enough to get rid of the throbbing hunk of rebar that had somehow gotten trapped in my pants.
As soon as she was gone, I went into my bedroom and closed the door. If she came back sooner than I expected, I could just tell her I’d been in the bathroom. I closed my eyes and unzipped my fly, and my erection sprang right out like a bad magic trick, straight through the flap in my boxers. I sat down on the edge of my bed with a groan and wrapped my hand around myself, letting every little brief thought I’d had about what I’d like to do with—and to—Sky fill my head.
It was just too easy to imagine her giving herself up to me, to picture her sprawled on my bed, looking up at me with those innocent eyes as I slithered down her body. I pictured her long, pale legs draped over my shoulders, pictured those perfect tits trembling, rising and falling fast as her breaths came shorter the closer I got to her pussy. I imagined her grabbing at the sheets, almost ripping them while she writhed under me. I was right on the edge of climax in a matter of minutes, and when I thought about what it would be like to finally—finally—slide into her, to feel her take every inch of me, and her hot, wet pussy wrapping around me with that little spasm of muscle that would tell me even more than her moans how good it felt to her, I came.
I shuddered from how hard it hit me, and I didn’t even have the presence of mind to try and find something to contain the load I was shooting off. I could only hope I had enough time to clean up after myself—and, of course, that Sky wouldn’t be coming into my room anytime soon. I worked myself until I was completely soft, gasping for breath, shaking from the need gnawing at my bones. It was good enough to get through the next several hours with Sky—but I knew I’d need a good, long shower before I managed to get any sleep at all, knowing she was in the apartment with me. God, this was such a fucking mistake. But I’d gone through with it, and I knew there wasn’t anything else I could do—not at this point.
I stuffed myself back into my pants, cleaned up everything that I could find, and went back into the kitchen. Sky still hadn’t come back, and I figured that as long as I was just about done with the dishes before she did return with her stuff, then she never had to know what I’d needed to do to get through the night. I thought grimly to myself that if Sky’s feelings on the issue of our lives as man and wife remained the same, I was going to need to find a good excuse for needing to duck into my room at random intervals.