Authors: Miranda Veil
I push away from him regretfully; my fingers moving to gently caress the soft ebon waves of his hair.
He’s so beautiful…
“Ethan…I can’t. Not when you’re like this.”
Curling on the floor amidst the disorderly lump of blankets and spare pillows, legs crossed and head hanging, I spew out a very unconvincing explanation of why I can’t crawl in bed, pin his arms down and ride him until he moans and begs for more.
After I’ve run myself breathless from my 10 minute speech, I look up at him and he’s passed out, with his head dangling off the side of the bed. With a sigh, I position him comfortably and wrap myself in my blankets, curling up with my phone as the hard floor presses against every bony prominence.
Unlocking the phone, my eyes focus on the straight, clinical black letters set against the stark white screen, and run my finger over them absently. Alexander R. Delacroix. With hormones rushing through my body from the impromptu make-out session with an incredibly sexy British man, my heart still aches for him.
He doesn’t have time for me. He may never have the time, and instead of taking Ethan up on his offer, I’m still too wrapped up in Alex to think straight.
I press his name and bring up a text message, idly scrolling through past conversations and smiling as I reminisce. They were sparse, with days or weeks between replies, and yet just knowing he’d responded…
This is ridiculous. I’m head over heels for a school girl worthy crush.
Scowling, I type up a message…just a simple “How are you?” I don’t expect him to reply, and a glance at the clock reveals the ungodly hour of 4 a.m. With the sun only an hour or two from rising, I rest my head on a pillow and reposition my body in an attempt to find the most comfortable position possible on the hard, cold floor.
As my eyelids fall, I see him waiting for me in the darkness, his hands brushing over my skin as his scent smothers me. My heart hammers against my chest, aching, as he lovingly slips a sharpened dagger through my rib cage and gently massages the dull side against my heart.
Chapter 14
I awaken to the groan
s
of my bedroom guest as he stumbles from my bed, nearly crushes my ankle as he steps over me, and crawls his way to the bathroom. As he reaches the tile floors, he collapses face first, groaning in pain.
“Caaasssss…” he calls weakly.
“What…on earth…”
“Can you help me?” he whines “Please? I feel awful. I feel like I’ve been run over.”
Standing, I stretch my back, which unfortunately aches from my night on a freezing hard floor, and wander over to him. I offer my hand, and he crawls up my body like a vine on a tree, then somehow manages to steady himself long enough to run the shower without diving headfirst into the bathtub.
“I think…I’m just going to wash up.”
“Mhm. I’ll meet you downstairs. Try not to drown in the tub, okay? I’m really not up for burying a body today.”
He looks at me with a mix of fear and dread, and with a smirk, I turn on my heel and head downstairs.
Riley and Tom are still cuddled up on the pull out couch, with one of her legs draped over his hips, and his arms wrapped around her. I don’t know how they could sleep comfortably like that.
It must be nice to have semi-stable relationship like that, where you could yell and bitch at each other, then still wind up snuggling in bed together at the end of the night. Maybe I’m just not cut out for that kind of thing. I feel torn, as if some force has separated my desires into left and right halves then split me down the middle. Half of me aches for love; the thought of having a house, a husband, a white picket fence and a baby on my hip. The other half can’t stand it.
Why should I have to tie myself down to one man? How could a single person possibly offer me everything I want out of life? Is there even a person out there who could keep up with my high sex drive? And if they cannot, would I be able to stay happy with someone who couldn’t satisfy me as often, or as completely, as I want?
Slipping into the kitchen, I pull out a pan to fry some eggs, and go about making breakfast as I push those conflicting thoughts from my head. I’m not nearly as good with cooking as Riley is, but how hard could it be to whip up a few eggs, hash browns and bacon for breakfast?
Apparently, it’s harder than I originally thought. Half an hour, and several foul words later, the bacon is black, and the fried eggs are more reminiscent of peeling yellow wallpaper.
Riley was rudely awoken by the smell of burned bacon, and attempted to rush to my rescue, but the damage was already done.
With a scowl, she tosses my poor attempt at breakfast in the trash, and shoves me toward the living room where I help Tom pack away the sofa bed, and shove some Tylenol down his throat to help with the headache. As we go about setting the table for breakfast, Ethan decides to stumble down the steps to the main floor. These men really can’t hold their liquor. It’s almost embarrassing! But being the lady I am, I won’t tease about how hopeless they were in their intoxicated state last night.
We settle in at the table as Riley comes out with perfectly cooked bacon, fried eggs, and hash browns for our late morning breakfast. As I reached for the orange juice, Ethan catches my eye, blushes, and looks back down at his plate. I’m not sure if he remembers everything from the night before, but I’m sure a few memories have begun to resurface if he’s managed to produce that particular shade of crimson on his cheeks.
Mentally patting myself on the back, I smile inwardly, proud of myself for not taking advantage of him in his inebriated state. That’s not to say I didn’t want to. Oh, did I want to! His voice alone still sends shivers down my spine and causes those oh-so-sensitive areas of my body to ache in desire. In fact, I’m fairly certain I could get off just listening to his deep, silken voice.
It’s hard to take my eyes off of him as I slip quick, inconspicuous glances at him between bites of food. His dark hair is still damp from his hasty shower, and small droplets of water leave a shimmering trail down his neck from a hasty towel dry.
He looks up and catches me staring, and I blush as he reaches across the table to run his fingers over my hand.
Would being with him really be so bad? Maybe deep down, he’s a freak just like me. I wonder…
The thought brings a sly smile to my lips. Taking his hand in mine, I squeeze gently, shifting just a bit in my seat as he clears his throat and begins talking to Tom about his upcoming trip to New York City.
Oh that voice… it’s like listening to pure sex.
I bite my bottom lip, focusing much too intently on the perfectly fried egg on my plate in an attempt not to think of such dirty thoughts, as his deep voice teases my ears.
I wonder how he would sound when he moans…
Riley glances over, noticing our joined hands, and immediately lets out an overly loud gasp followed by a mocking “Aww!!!” She rushes over and wraps her arms around my shoulders, hugging me close
“So…” she smirks “did you two have a nice night?”
Coughing, I withdraw my hand from his. Nothing happened, we both know that, but the extra attention and mocking from Riley would make anyone uncomfortable. She squeezes my arm and begins picking up the plates.
“Cass! Don’t be rude. Come help me put everything away!” she mutters through gritted teeth.
With a roll of my eyes, I follow her into the kitchen, gathering as many dishes as I can carry in the process. I know where this is going. She’s going to question me, then encourage me to pursue a relationship with this cute little British biscuit.
As I walk quietly to the kitchen to wash the dishes, she comes and hugs me from behind, resting her chin on my shoulder.
“What happened last night? I don’t remember much of anything, but I’d simply
love
all the details on you and Ethan sharing a room.”
“Nothing happened, Riley.”
“You can tell me! I promise I won’t gossip to Tom about the size of his brother…”
“Riley! Comparing sizes? That’s disgusting! Besides, nothing happened. I wasn’t going to take advantage of him. Who knows whether he would’ve actually wanted to engage in such activities! He was completely wasted. He probably would’ve gotten motion sickness, anyhow, and threw up all over the bed. It was bad enough I had to lug everyone to bed, I didn’t want to be on cleanup duty as well.” I laugh.
“Hmph!” she groans, and lets me go. “That’s no fun at all. You should know how he feels about you, by now. He hasn’t exactly been subtle. Well, maybe a little subtle. He hasn’t exactly thrown you against a wall and kissed you yet. At least, not that I know of…” she grabs me and forces me to face her “has he!?”
“We may have kissed a little last night. He surprised me with it. It didn’t go any further than that.”
“Oh! So, do you think it
might
go further?” she beams.
“Riley, I really can’t deal with that right now. I’m busy, you know, with work and everything. Two jobs is a lot to keep up with.”
“And busy with that other guy that you still haven’t told me about.”
“It’s really not all that important…”
“But I’m your friend! And I think I deserve an explanation for your recent random disappearance.”
I sneak a peek through the door of the kitchen to where Tom and Ethan are seated. Their faces are stoic; it must be an intense conversation. I turn back to Riley, who is staring at me with daggers in her eyes.
“Riley, I highly doubt it’ll happen again. It was just a fluke. I didn’t go over there expecting anything to…”
“So you
did
have sex. Don’t you think you’re leading Ethan on, then?”
“I’m not! I like him, I just don’t think I’d be good for him. I don’t want to make up that whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit, but in this case, I think it may hold true. I don’t know, Riley. It’s…really hard to explain. This guy has really gotten to me.” I shake my head in frustration, turning back to the dishes. “Why are you grilling me over this?”
“Don’t sass me, woman!” she exclaims then drops her eyes to the floor. “I just want to help…” she mumbles “You look so unhappy, sometimes. Lonely. I want to see you happy with someone.”
“I don’t need any one person to be happy, Riles. Besides, I have you!” I smile, and give her a big hug. I can feel the tension drain out of her as she returns my embrace. How long has she worried about me like this?
“You’re lucky I love you.” She smiles, reaching behind me and pinching my ass as she walks out.
Once the dining room is cleaned up, the two men leave. It had been a long night for both of them, and I can only assume they’re going to nurse what’s left of their pride from having a woman drag them indoors and put them to bed. Ethan is due to hop on a plane in three days to New York City for a convention on some new medication, and I somehow got roped into driving him to the airport.
Since he was only here a few weeks on a contract with a local hospital, he had been driving a rental car and originally enlisted the services of Tom to get him to the airport. However, Tom had something of his own come up and had to back out, and a taxi from here to New Orleans would be a disgusting amount of money. So here I am, signing myself over to be Ethan’s personal chauffer.
Deep down, I know I jumped onboard because driving into New Orleans would give me an excuse to see meet up with Alex to discuss the article I’ve written about him. Assuming, of course, that I can actually get ahold of him. I’ve put it off for a month with Angela, knowing I had no real substance for it since all of my meetings with Delacroix have been somewhat… off subject. I just wanted to see him for research purposes. That’s all. Really…
Chapter 15
The days leading up t
o
Ethan’s departure dragged by, as if I were struggling through a moat of molasses. I did, however, have some time to grade papers so I wouldn’t have to make up yet another excuse to my students as to why I still had no grades posted for them. It was a daunting task to tackle, but it successfully distracted my thoughts from Alex long enough for me to feel some degree of normalcy. I’m sure my lovely students will appreciate all my hard work, though that may be a bit of a stretch. Once the papers are done, I change gears and look over my article for the magazine this week.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m ‘employed’ by L
Addict
; I write articles on whatever my heart desires, and if they like it, they’ll buy it from me. It’s usually not much in the form of compensation, but I get this sense of pride from seeing my name on the page. Riley, in her desire to help boost my self-esteem a bit and out of her own pride for me, has bought a copy of every magazine that I’ve had an article in.
The article I’ve written for this week is essentially my rant on the taboo nature of sex. No one talks about it, unless you live in New Orleans, but New Orleans is practically its own state with its own set of rules. The education on it in schools is lackluster and not just here, but throughout the country, and meanwhile everyone runs around scratching their heads and wondering why STD’s and teen pregnancies are running rampant in our country. Sex is a natural act! It should be explained with no more awkwardness than teaching a child how to brush their teeth properly. They need to know what to expect, how to stay safe, and the magnitude of making that kind of decision. By keeping it taboo and forbidden, we’re only enticing them to act out of rebellion!
I glance at my phone as I look over the article. No flashing lights, no chimes of a message. I do a quick run through of the article, read it aloud to make sure it has the flow I want, then pack it away in my bag. I rake a pen across a post-it and shove it on the wall above my desk, reminding me to drop it off in the morning. I really can’t afford to forget it again, and recently, it feels as if I would forget my pants in the morning if I were distracted enough. My mind seems to be full of distractions these days.
More like one, persistent distraction.
Peering at the phone once more, I fiddle with the home button and unlock it. Maybe I just missed it or cleared the screen without realizing…but there’s nothing. No new messages from him. I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and concentrating on the gentle sound of the breeze rustling through the trees outside my window, to distract from the pang of disappointment that’s settled in my chest. It’s been one day. He’s gone longer without contacting me. There’s no need to start stressing myself out about it, right? I’m too old to be acting like this. It’s disgusting.
That familiar ache of longing grows as the memories pull at me. The feel of his hands on my skin, how the sun glinted off his glasses, and the way it set his hair aflame. This beautiful, unobtainable creature has ripped me to pieces and left me wanting more. Wanting…needing; the two have come to mean the same. My desire has become a need, and my body calls out to him as if he were oxygen to my starved lungs.
I run my fingers over my phone as I recall every exquisite detail. Did it happen? It seemed so surreal. How has this single man found ways to make me squirm and ache in ways I didn’t think possible.