by Marci Bolden
“I’m fine.” I put my hands to her upper arms and squeezed gently. “Are you okay?”
When her lip started to quiver, I pulled her to me, and she fell into my chest as I wrapped her in my arms. I held her for several long minutes before she stepped away and turned her back to me. I could tell she was crying by the way she sniffed and let out a slow breath.
“Sit.” I put my hands on her shoulders and urged her into a chair at the table. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass. She protested when I set it in front of her, but once it was filled, she didn’t hesitate. I immediately refilled the glass.
“I always do this.” She frowned. “I always get sucked in by some asshole who treats Justin and me like shit and makes me feel like it’s somehow my fault. Why do I do that?”
“You see the best in people.”
She laughed. “No, Kyle. I just have really bad taste in men. The more wrong they are for me, the more I want them. It’s some sickness I can’t seem to control.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I refilled her glass again.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You don’t want to hear this.”
“I don’t mind.”
She seemed so sad and broken. I wanted to scoop her into my lap and promise her I’d take care of everything, but I was pretty sure this was not the time.
“One of these days,” she said, “I’ll listen to Justin and stop dating these losers.”
I smiled when she gave a halfhearted laugh. “You really do deserve better than him.”
“Thanks.” She took another long drink from her wine glass. “I guess I should pack his stuff.”
“There’re some boxes in the garage. Want me to go get a few?”
“He’s not worthy of boxes.” She smiled at me. “He gets garbage bags.”
She pushed herself up and went into the kitchen. She reappeared a few moments later with a box of oversized black trash bags in her hand. She stopped behind me and gave me a half hug as she bent and put her cheek to mine.
“Thank you for being here,” she said. “And for listening.”
I quickly reached up and put my hand on hers before she could pull it away. “No problem. Do you want help getting his crap together?”
“No.” She slipped her hand from mine. “I will take the wine though.”
I watched her leave the room, bags and wine in hand, before taking a deep breath as the reality of the situation set in. He was gone. John was finally gone. It was just Kate and me.
“Let the fun begin.” I grinned.
4
After John moved out, Kate and I fell into a comfortable routine of waking up and rushing around each other to get coffee and eat breakfast before we left for work. In the evening, I usually started dinner before Kate got home.
I knew how to cook because my mom thought it was important for me to learn, but I’d never enjoyed it. There was nothing I liked about it. Except the appreciation I got from Kate. Every night she moaned deep in her throat and told me how good dinner smelled. Then I’d sit across the table from her and watch her eat. The biggest payoff? Glances down her shirt and at her ass as she cleaned up.
So, while I still didn’t like cooking, it was worth doing while I lived with Kate.
Just a week after John had left, however, she came in through the kitchen door looking pissed. She gave me a short greeting as she headed straight for the wine rack. She rarely drank during the work week, so I knew something was wrong.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“John stopped by the office as I was leaving.” She sounded as angry as she looked. “He’s so, so, so very sorry.”
“About which part?”
“That’s exactly what I asked him. Wine?”
“Sure. What did he say?”
“It wasn’t his fault. None of it was his fault because you orchestrated the whole thing.”
I smirked. Her sarcasm let me know that she didn’t need any prodding from me to refuse his request to come home. His insistence that I was a master manipulator had obviously been his undoing. I stirred the pasta sauce and watched her fight to uncork a bottle for a moment. I put the spoon down and gently brushed her hands away from the corkscrew to finish opening it for her.
She was standing in the corner, the very corner where she had gotten fucked while I watched that night, so she had no way to step back from me as I invaded her space.
I could smell her light, sweet scent, feel her heat, and when she started talking, I could feel bursts of air across my face that tempted me to kiss her.
“He’s insane,” she said. “I can’t believe I stayed with him for so long. He is fucking delusional.”
I smiled. “Well, at the very least he’s an asshole.”
She laughed softly. “At the very least.”
As I stood, still in her space, removing the cork from the bottle, she opened the cabinet and reached for two glasses. As she did, her breast brushed against my tricep, and I felt the shockwave all the way through my body. I suspected that she felt a sudden awareness too, because she hesitated before grabbing the glasses and leaning back, again sliding the side of her breast along my arm. She cleared her throat in a way that made me think she was uncomfortable, but rather than stepping back, I took my time removing the cork from the screw and filling the glasses.
“So you told him to go to hell, right?”
“Uh, um, yeah.”
The fact that she was nervously stuttering all of a sudden made me smile. “How’d he take it?”
“Oh, you know. I’m an idiot, and I’m going to regret it.”
I gently rubbed her upper arm. “You’re not an idiot, Kate.”
“I know. I know,” she said with renewed conviction. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter.” Stepping around me, she moved to the stove and stirred the sauce I’d been working on when she came in. “I have wasted enough of my life on that man. Three years of his bullshit is more than enough. Besides, I’ve decided that I’m taking a dating sabbatical for a while. There are things I want for myself, and it’s time to go after them.”
“Like what?” I asked as she reached for plates.
“Like,” she said, hesitating as if she hadn’t really considered it, “travel. There are places I’d like to go that I’ve never been.”
I got the strainer and drained the pasta as she bent over and pulled the rolls out of the oven. Yes, I looked at her ass. I did that every time I got a chance. We talked about where we had and hadn’t been and where we’d like to go.
The conversation carried us through dinner and the entire bottle of wine. It was more than either of us usually drank, and I was feeling the effects as we relaxed on the sofa in the den after dinner. I knew I shouldn’t have more—I was going to have one hell of a headache in the morning—but Kate stuck her lip out as I poured the last of the wine into her glass. I got up without asking if she wanted more and opened another bottle.
When I returned, I sat closer to her so I could refill her glass. Only I didn’t move away once I had. The more she drank, the more touchy-feely she became. Her hand fell on mine and lingered as she talked. Her hand rested on my knee whenever she got excited about what she was saying. Her fingers brushed over my thigh, and every now and then she squeezed just above my knee before pulling her hand back.
When she did that, my concentration traveled to where she was touching me, and I was no longer able to hear what she was saying. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hear her; it was that my entire body ceased to exist except that spot where her warmth seeped through my slacks and went straight to my dick.
We didn’t finish the second bottle but came dangerously close to it. At some point, her eyelids started to droop and she licked her lips.
“Oh my God.” Her voice slurred as she grinned lazily. “How much did I drink?”
I held up the bottle, and we both examined it. She looked at me from under heavy eyelids and then checked
her watch, blinking several times before she seemed to be able to focus.
“It’s almost eleven. We’d better get to bed,” she said.
I chuckled. “I’m not sure I can make it.” Standing, I swayed a bit and then reached out when she stood next to me and nearly fell back down.
We both laughed when she grabbed me, as if I could somehow stop her from toppling over should she fall. She held my hand as we edged our way from between the sofa and coffee table.
Kate mumbled something about cleaning up in the morning, but I was too focused on her hand to actually hear. Once we were at the foot of the stairs, she released me and put one hand on the wall and the other on the railing to make her way up the stairs.
I did the same, watching her ass move with every step she took. She was wearing slacks and a blouse rather than her usual evening attire of short shorts and a tank top, but the view was still amazing. Before I even realized my hands were moving, I slid them up her thighs and gripped her hips.
She laughed and said something about not pulling her down the stairs, but I didn’t hear her. Her ass was right in front of my face, and all I wanted to do was bury my face in it. I wanted to turn her right there on the stairs, tear our clothes away, and fuck her until we both screamed. Because of the wine, my control was slipping.
Her voice drifted back to me as we reached the top of the stairs, but I didn’t hear what she said. I thought she asked me a question, though, so I grunted in response, not knowing what to say.
It must have been sufficient because rather than repeat herself, she waited at the top of the stairs until I was standing right behind her. My cock was getting hard, completely overtaking my common sense, and again my hands moved without my consent. Before I knew what I was doing, I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her against me.
“Come on, baby,” she said.
I chose to ignore the maternal tone she’d used and hung on to her words. We took a few clumsy steps, and her head fell back on my shoulder.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled.
I moaned in response, lost in the scent of her drifting up to me and the feel of her in my arms as she guided me into my room. She reached down to pull the blankets back on my bed, stumbling as she did. I leaned into her, using my weight to knock her off balance and onto my bed. Since my arms were still around her, I went with her. She landed half on her stomach with me pressed against her back.
We both laughed drunkenly as we lay on the bed. I was fairly certain she felt my hard cock against her, because she stopped laughing after a moment and cleared her throat, much like she’d done earlier.
“Damn,” I said. I didn’t want to give her a chance to sober up enough to decide that the way we were lying was completely inappropriate. “I drank too much.”
“Me too.”
“I could pass out just like this.”
Several long seconds passed before she gently pushed up against me. Her ass stuck back probably more than necessary, rubbing against my hard-on. I felt her shift a bit. It was just for a second, just a moment, but I was confident she’d used her ass to cop a feel of my dick. I moved in response, briefly pressing the length against her, making sure she felt what she’d done to me but not blatantly grinding into her.
She looked over her shoulder, but we were too close for me to see her face. “I can’t get up.” There was strain in her voice, maybe even a hint of uneasiness.
I was disappointed that she was eager to leave, but even the wine and lust couldn’t keep me lying on her if she wanted to get up.
“Right.” I knew I was crossing the line, but I dragged my hand over her breast as I rolled away. I didn’t exactly feel her up, but she inhaled sharply as I slowly brushed over her hard nipple. She struggled for a moment, trying to sit, but I was still pressing against her—not lying on her as I’d been before but certainly not helping her get up.
She stopped moving, and I opened my eyes. The quizzical look on her face made me think she was trying to determine if the entire situation had been on purpose. She seemed to dismiss it though and grinned.
“Tomorrow is going to come way too soon.” She managed to sit.
She was still for a moment, as if regaining her composure before she attempted to stand. She laughed when she fell back down beside me. After another failed effort, I reached over and put my hand on her back.
“One. Two. Three,” I counted and then gave her a little shove. I didn’t miss the opportunity to let my hand glide over her ass as she finally made it to her feet. I was a bit disappointed when she steadied herself enough to stay standing. I was hoping she would fall back onto the bed again. I wanted to tell her to just sleep it off beside me.
Holding her body against mine all night would have been amazing. But she staggered slowly out of my room without looking back.
“Night,” I muttered as she made it to the door.
I heard her go into the bathroom and exhaled as I lay there listening to the muted sounds of her getting ready for bed. As I did, I debated whether I should take advantage of our alcohol-clouded minds. What would she do if I walked into the bathroom while she was in there? What if I kissed her? Would she kiss me back? Would she let me drop her pants and lift her onto the counter so I could pound into her?
Reaching down, I unzipped my slacks and reached inside so I could stroke myself while the feel of her body against mine was still fresh in my mind.
I heard her bed frame creak a few minutes later as she collapsed onto her mattress. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my thumb over the tip of my dick, feeling the sensations rock through me as I imagined Kate, like I’d done a hundred times since I met her.
5
I suspected that John had put the seed of my attraction in Kate’s mind. He knew I wanted her, and I knew he’d shared that with her several times. She just didn’t believe him. But the night we’d had too much wine and my hands accidentally touched her several times must have made her wonder if John had been right.
The next night, she worked late and then ate dinner in her home office. She said she had a big sale pending and needed to get through some paperwork.
The night after that, she had dinner with a friend.
I was stretched on the sofa in the den when she got home. The television was on, but I wasn’t really watching it. I hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than my fear that she was avoiding me. I’d pushed it too far, and I needed to fix it.
I planned on apologizing to her when she got home. It was the alcohol and the conversation. I was a lonely single man, she was a beautiful woman, and I’d crossed the line; all those excuses and a million more had gone through my mind.
When I heard the front door open, my stomach tightened with nerves. I heard her heels clicking across the tile entry, and a few seconds later she entered the den. I took a deep breath, ready to beg her forgiveness, but when I looked at her, I hesitated.
The edginess she’d seemed to have felt the last two days wasn’t there; the stressed look on her face was gone. She was her normal relaxed self as she strolled across the room and sat heavily on the sofa.
I swallowed my apology, at least for now. “Hey. How’s…what’s her name?”
Kate chuckled as she reached for the bowl of chips I had in my lap. “Julie. She’s fine.”
“Good dinner?”
“Yeah, it was. We went to this new Italian place downtown. We should go sometime.”
“Sounds good.”
There was a long, almost awkward silence, and I started to man up for my apology when she asked, “What the hell are you watching?”
I watched for a second as two guys took turns punching each other in the gut as hard as they could.
“I don’t know.” I grabbed the remote.
We spent the evening channel-surfing and chatting as if the last two days hadn’t been the slightest bit uncomfortable. By the end of the night, I’d convinced myself that it hadn’t been the half-drunken slight groping of the other night that had turned h
er off. She must have really just been busy, like she’d said.
Friday rolled around, and I passed on after-work drinks with my coworkers and sent Kate a text that I was going to pick up a pizza. I got home with our dinner and walked straight into the kitchen, where I found her bent over with her head in the fridge.
I almost dropped the damn pizza when I noticed the shorts she had on. She had amazingly long legs. She always wore short shorts to show them off, but as she leaned over, this pair rode high enough that I could see the curve of her ass cheeks peeking out.
It was my turn to clear my throat in the way she did when she was uncomfortable. I forced my gaze away before she caught me looking.
“Hey.” She smiled over her shoulder at me. “Want a beer?”
“Uh. Yeah. That would be awesome. Thanks.”
“Great. I’ll take care of dinner. You go change.”
She reached into the fridge again. I sighed, letting my gaze linger a moment before going upstairs, mentally telling my cock to relax.
She was opening the pizza box when I walked into the den. As soon as I sat down, she started chatting about a movie she wanted to stream. I served us up a few slices while she scrolled through the selections, but I barely heard what she was saying. I was too busy wondering if she knew how fucking sexy she looked.
It wasn’t at all unusual for her to wear sleep shorts and a tank top around me—actually, it seemed to be her usual attire for evenings and weekend mornings—but I’d never seen these before.
The shorts, which had ridden up when she was leaning into the fridge, rode even higher as she sat cross-legged on the sofa. I couldn’t see up them, but if she turned just the slightest, I was certain I’d have a clear view of her panties. And her tank top, while no tighter than the ones I was used to, was a bit lower cut in the front and showed more cleavage than normal.
Her hair was in a ponytail, and while she was technically old enough to be the mother of any of the girls I’d dated, she looked so much better than any of them. She didn’t try to force her sexiness. She just was. She didn’t have to try to make me want her. I just did.