by Swati MH
My eyes widen in surprise. “I’d say you’re telling the truth, but I need to ask why you stopped.”
A haze spreads over her face. “My mom always wanted me to become a world-class something.” She laughs though her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “She put me in ballet, hoping I’d work at the American Ballet Theater one day. When I just didn’t progress fast enough, she put me in piano lessons, hoping I’d become a concert pianist.” Her eyes become slightly glassy as she continues, “Most of my childhood, all I felt from her was disappointment. Even though I was a decent pianist, I wasn’t at the level she expected me to be. Eventually, I started to hate even being near the keys. So, after she died . . . I had no one to prove anything to. I didn’t need to practice two hours a day. I didn’t need to become a world-class anything. So, I just stopped playing it.”
My heart tightens, listening to the defeat in her voice. “You’re world-class in every way that matters.”
She smiles. “Your turn.”
“My favorite fruit is watermelon.”
She leans back, squinting. “Truth?” she asks, unsure.
I shake my head. “I hate watermelon. Like, I truly believe it should be eradicated from the world.”
She laughs so fully that I can see all her perfect teeth. I’m glad to have lightened the mood a bit. “You’re really passionate about your loathing for watermelon there, Dr. Bedi.”
“I am. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put on watermelon-flavored lip gloss.”
“Noted. I’ll dispose of my entire collection of watermelon lip gloss immediately.”
“Thank you. Your turn.”
“Hmm.” She taps her lip with her index finger, making me focus on them again. “Aside from gummy worms, my favorite snacks are potato chips.”
Sounds reasonable. She’s a junk food aficionado. “Truth.”
“Nope, that’s false. Aside from gummy worms, my favorite snacks are fortune cookies.”
I laugh. “That is really random. Why fortune cookies?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I like the taste of the cookies, but I love reading predictions and horoscopes, too. I try to be intentional about my decisions in life but for everything I can’t control, I like the idea of surrendering my fate to the stars. Letting them help me mentally prepare for the future.”
“Were you intentional about this decision?” I ask, running a hand over the valley between her hips and breasts. “About us.”
“Yes and no.” Her fingers move to my lips, swiping them gently. “Nothing with you has been intentional, yet everything has.”
She leans in and replaces her fingers with her lips to kiss the corner of my mouth and I turn to catch hers. Our kiss becomes heated and a buzz of electricity runs through the air.
Nothing with you has been intentional, yet everything has.
Isn’t that the truth.
Her hand slides to the button of my jeans before her eyes drag to meet mine. Apparently, she sees what she’s searching for--lust, want, need, greed, and maybe even something I’d never meant to show her--because she continues to unbutton and unzip my pants. Sliding her hand into my boxers and grabbing hold of my massive erection, she strokes, gently at first. My eyes roll back in my head when a groan slips out of me. She continues to stroke, tightening her grip masterfully.
So much for taking things slow. At least I can say I tried.
“Cass,” I pant but can’t get any more words out.
“Can I go again?” she asks, knowing I’m losing brain function fast. I can only get out a nod, and she blushes. “Before you, I’d never been taken from behind.”
I’m sure she can see the look of mild shock on my face, mixed with heavy breathing from her ministrations. I don’t even need to say it to know it’s the truth. “Did you like it?”
Her tongue glides across her bottom lip and I track the movement like a hypnotist’s pendulum. “Yes.”
“I didn’t hope every fucking day for the past two weeks that you’d come see me.” My voice comes out hoarse. Her hand feels so good, I can barely feel anything but her touch.
Her lips meet mine, soft, feather-like kisses in contrast with the strong strokes from her hand below. “False,” she whispers as she smiles against my skin.
Groaning, I pull her hand off and push her back onto the bed before tugging at her shorts and panties.
Fuck this restraint.
Fuck having to leave.
Fuck knowing I’ll hate it when I do.
My fingers ache to find the heat between her legs--soft and wet. It takes nothing at all to slide a finger inside her, then two. She moans, grinding against my hand, silently begging for more. My fingers continue to slide in and out of her as my mouth devours hers. She’s panting and moaning to the rhythm of my hand, her nails digging into my shoulders. It’s when I push my thumb against the coiled ball of nerves right where she needs it that she screams out in pleasure, her eyes closed, her face rolling to the side. I swear I could watch her come apart like this over and over.
She’s still coming off her high as I reach for the nightstand next to my bed. My hand stills on its way to the drawer when I hear her voice. “For the longest time after Avni’s wedding, I’d lie awake in my bed and imagine dancing with you again. Sometimes I’d swear I could smell you if I focused hard enough.”
My head snaps to her, a ludicrous grin spreading over my face, and I watch her roll her eyes when sees me. It makes me smile even wider. “Truth.”
“I honestly don’t know what compels me to tell you these things,” she says, mock regret lining her face.
Scooting my back to the headrest, I pull her so she’s straddling me, lining her up for me to show her another position she’s going to love. “I knew I’d lit you up that day, my little firecracker. It was just a matter of time before you admitted it.”
She leans in and bites my lower lip. “Enough getting to know my mind, Dr. Bedi. Now, hurry up and get to know my body.”
20
Cassie
An intense energy will surround your romantic life as Venus and Saturn join forces in your midheaven, causing you to expose your vulnerabilities. Remember, your vulnerabilities are not your weakness, they’re the strongest bridge to the connections you seek.
I flip my phone over after sending off a text and bring my attention back to Lynn.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not smiling.” My hand goes to my ear and I bring it back to my lap quickly when I realize she’s followed the movement.
“You’ve been real cagey lately. Want to tell me what’s been up with you?”
I sigh, scanning the nurses’ lounge to make sure we’re alone. I’ve been meaning to tell Lynn for a few days now. “I’m sort of seeing someone . . . kind of.”
“Oh, is this the sort-of, kind-of, friend you went surfing with a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes. I’ve been hanging out with him on and off. It’s not serious or anything. He’s in town for a few more weeks, so we’re just keeping things casual.”
Lynn turns toward me, her eyes wide. “You’re hooking-up with someone casually? You? I could barely convince you to swipe right on someone on a dating app just a few weeks ago!”
“And here I was, hoping I would have surprised you,” I say sarcastically.
“Well, spill! Who is he?”
After getting Lynn to promise to keep it to herself, I continue, “Remember that surgeon from Orthopedics who helped me with one of my patients a few weeks ago?”
“Oh shit! The hottie that Becca was supposed to go out with before he canceled on her? She’s still pissed about that, by the way.” Lynn already knows the answer to her question. “Wow, Cass! You better tell me everything right the fuck now.”
Over the next ten minutes, taking a break only when another nurse comes in momentarily, I tell Lynn about everything going on with Vik--how I met him a year ago, how we’ve had this undeniable attraction that led to i
ncredible sex, multiple orgasms in many positions, and how he’s leaving in under four weeks.
“So, how many times have you gone over to his place?”
“Three times if you count the very first time I went after my date with Major. I was there both nights this weekend.”
“Have you broken things off with Major yet?”
I sigh, recalling my conversation with him. “Yeah, I called him yesterday and told him I didn’t think we were a good fit. I could tell he had questions as to why, but I just said that I had a lot going on and right now wasn’t the best time to get into a relationship.”
“Wow.” Lynn seems to be processing everything I’ve told her. “I have so many questions. For example, does your friend Avni know that you’re boinking her cousin?”
I cringe at the thought. “No. I’ll tell her in person when she’s here next weekend. It’s just that he’s her cousin and I’m her best friend. She wants the best for both of us, so she’ll probably be worried about this situation we’ve created for ourselves, knowing we’ll be ending it in a few weeks.”
“I don’t blame her. To be honest, I’m a little concerned about that, too. How are you going to end it all in a few weeks when you’ve never really done this before? This is not really how you operate.”
“I understand the concern. I’m trying to keep my heart out of it, you know? Like we have a lot of fun together, but I remind myself not to get attached.”
“Uh-huh. And how is that working out for ya?” Lynn lifts an eyebrow, giving me a you’re-full-of-shit look.
“Totally fine!” I lie in my most chipper voice. “It’s part of our pact. We know this has to end soon, so we’re just enjoying each other for now. Then, he’ll go his separate way and I’ll go mine.”
“Right,” she drags the word out before getting up to throw her wrapper away. “Let’s reconvene on this conversation in a few weeks when Vik is back in New York.”
I wiggle uncomfortably in my chair. I still have another five minutes before my break ends. Lynn waves to me before she leaves and a hollowness forms below my ribs.
I shouldn’t have eaten the two-day-old macaroni salad that I made for Dad. That’s probably what’s causing this uncomfortability in my stomach.
Trying to move past it, I flip my phone back over to see if Vik has replied to my text. We’ve kept our truth-or-lie game going for the past two days. I just sent him a text saying I was fluent in Italian. I’d even typed it in Italian to sound more believable.
His reply is sitting in my messages. Truth?
No, false. I write back. But I did take a semester of it in college. Your turn.
Three dots jump on the screen and I wonder if he’s walking to see his next patient. My dad was from a royal bloodline of maharajas who ruled India. Technically, you had royalty inside you last night.
Heat swarms into my panties at the thought of him being inside me. God, he knew how to drive me to oblivion. He was so attentive, so precise in his movements. He gave so generously, as if he had all the time in the world. Every caress, every lick, every push was unhurried, like taking a stroll through a park. How many times had we done it last night--three, four? Each time was different, yet familiar. Every time he entombed himself inside me, I felt it all the way through my body, from my head to my toes.
He was an experience, not an event.
You are so full of shit. I type back, feeling the wet fabric of my underwear against my skin.
Maybe. But you’d be nothing less than my queen.
After four days of being apart because of conflicting work schedules, along with Vik’s deadline for publishing his research paper, we were ravenous for each other. I don’t remember even saying hello when I entered his apartment.
As soon as he saw me, he put me over his shoulder and carried me to the kitchen counter. Within seconds, he was pushing inside of me like a crazed madman.
I catch his face between my palms, peering into his hooded eyes. I don’t know what I’m trying to find in the cloud of emotions as he continues to pummel me, making my insides sob and beg for release. “Oh, God! Please, Vik. More. More,” I sputter, my voice broken by the noise of our bodies slamming against each other.
“Fuck!” he growls into my ear. “You’re going to be the end of me, beautiful.”
My fingernails dig into his shoulders as my head rolls back and hits the cabinet. Vik pulls me closer, pushing me to the hilt, putting a hand behind my head to cushion it from the cabinet. It’s when he circles his hips in a certain way that the tendrils of hysteria let loose. “Oh God, I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”
He pushes up my shirt and his mouth descends on my nipple--biting, sucking--as every molecule in my body hurls itself toward the sensation of release. I shatter from the inside out, breaking into a million pieces filled with thrill and passion, crying out so forcefully that I swear it’ll make his neighbors blush.
Within seconds, as if he was just barely holding on, his breathing grows labored and he plows into me, in and out. I squeeze the back on his neck and with one last push, he empties deep inside of me, the lust-filled fog slowly lifting from his eyes.
We stay just like that, neither of us wanting to break the connection. The smell of him--slightly woodsy and floral-- mixed with his heated skin envelops me like a blanket while his forehead rests against my shoulder and we catch our breaths. “That.”
A word.
A doctrine.
A dedication.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, because no other word would do it justice.
My shirt is still pushed up and his large hand is practically around my torso. His thumb sweeps across the tattoo of the feather and the initials under my breast. “What does it mean?”
My hand covers his wrist. A warning. He lifts his head to search my face.
This wasn’t part of our agreement.
I shake my head almost imperceptibly, but there’s something resolute in his eyes.
“Tell me,” he whispers as his lips land on mine. “Please.”
I’m quiet, contemplating the consequences of telling him something I’ve held so close to my heart that letting someone near it could cause it to collapse. “I can’t.”
“Do you trust me?”
With my mind and body? Yes.
With my heart . . .?
His thumb across the ink feels like a heavy anchor, like something I both want to free myself from and attach myself to. I just don’t know which one I want more.
“Avery Glen.” I barely register the sound of my own voice, as if it’s coming through an underground tunnel.
“Is that . . . was that your mom’s name?”
A frog lodges itself in my throat and I shake my head. “You asked me why I wasn’t at my college graduation when you came for Avni’s. I . . . I had to drop the semester midway because . . . I got pregnant.”
His fingers tighten slightly around my torso and I turn my head away, not wanting to meet his gaze. I don’t want to see the judgment, the shock. I’ve already seen the same look a thousand times in the mirror since it happened.
His fingers catch under my chin, bringing me back to face him. Through a curtain of unspilled tears, I meet his eyes and it’s not what I’d expected to see. There’s no judgment. Not even shock.
He leaves a tender kiss on my forehead, giving me so much more than what I even thought I needed. “Can you tell me what happened?”
21
Cassie
Six Years Ago
“Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Ben’s voice booms over the small stick--two pink lines visible at the end--that I’m holding between us. The outcome of our carelessness.
A tremble runs through my hand as I search my memory for how or when this could have happened--not that it really matters at this point. I’d prayed for the past week that maybe I’d just missed my period because of the stress of last semester projects and nursing school applications. I’d even prayed while I peed on the stick, hoping t
hat maybe the universe was just conspiring to give me a warning. That this would forever scare me into being even more careful than I have been.
I was so careful . . .. I’ve always been so careful.
When I don’t find my voice, Ben stomps away, hands forcefully digging into his scalp. A familiar flush creeps up his neck, giving away his frustration and rage. “What the fuck, Cassie! How the fuck did you--”
“How did I?” I interrupt, bewildered. “How did I, what? Force you to have sex with me? I’m pretty sure I asked if you had a condom and you said you’d run out, but that it would be fine since I was already on the pill.” Who is this person I’ve been dating for two years? Where is the man who told me no mountain was high enough as long as we climbed it together? Where is the man who won me over with his smooth lines and easy charm?
“Yeah, well, I thought you were on the pill!” The accusation in his voice cuts me deeper than the sheer rage in his eyes, as if I’d plotted against him to create such an inconvenient situation.
“I was, you asshole! I have been the entire time we’ve been together!” I walk toward my bed with a lump in my throat and my heart pounding against my ribs, and I sit down gingerly. The blood seems to be moving in the opposite direction in my veins and collapsing to the ground doesn’t seem out of the question at the moment.
“Then what the fuck happened? The pill is ninety-nine percent effective!” Ben forcefully waves both arms. Man-splaining and blurting out statistics has been a normal part of his contribution to our relationship. I’ve always told myself that it’s his way of feeling like a provider in some way.
My palms come to my face as I lean my elbows on my knees. My airways constrict as if they’ve forgotten how to function. How could this be happening right now? With only this semester left before graduation, I’m so close to the finish line. So close to finally starting nursing school. How will I go if I’m pregnant or if I have to take care of a baby? I couldn’t ask Dad to take on this burden because I was stupid enough to make such a mistake. With his health and our bills, how could I even support this baby?