“What was it that you tried to tell me last night?” He brushes aside a wayward golden curl that has landed on my cheek and deepens the intensity of his stare, looking right through every barrier inside me.
“That I needed you,” I answer in a quiet voice and return his gaze from under my lashes. He counters by squeezing me to his firm chest, wrapping me entirely in his calming hold. My head nestles comfortably in the nook under his chin as he breathes me in.
“How are you, Hales?” he asks into my hair.
I take in a deep, liberating, though still troublesome breath and bury my face against his chest.
“Everything is fine now, baby,” he whispers, pulling me closer, taking a firmer hold of me―an embrace that lasts many calming minutes.
Chapter 2: Addressing the Mammoth
“Um, how did you know about Steven?” I ask, breaking our comfortable silence.
“Let’s talk about it over brunch. I’m starving.” I get a feeling that he isn't inclined to discuss my question, and for the time being I let it go. As long as Steven is okay, it can wait.
I tilt my head up and smile at him. “Then let’s get you fed. I know just the place.”
Daniel looks at me, then his eyes stray to the house. “Don’t you want to go in?”
“Not now.” My answer couldn’t sound any more determined.
I need to be alone with him now, without any third-degrees or awkward introductions. As thrilled as I am, the both of us have too much to talk about alone. As I take his hand in mine, leading us both to the car, I feel a strange cloth around his knuckles. I lift our linked hands to see what it is, and to my surprise I find a bandage.
“What happened to your hand?” My high tone doesn’t leave any hope of masking my exaggerated, to put mildly, panic.
“Nothing special. Some side effects of boxing,” he mutters dryly, shrugging.
“Don’t you use gloves?” I rise the obvious.
“Not always,” he answers, smiling lopsidedly at my dubious expression.
I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss the wound. From the corner of my eyes I can see a broadening stretch on his lips.
Settling in the driver’s seat, I watch Daniel as he makes his way to the passenger door; he sports a grey knitted hoodie that molds to his wide chest, snug jeans, black combat boots and a messenger bag across his back. His golden waves are unruly, falling back to reveal every part of his handsome, lightly tanned face. I sigh pleased, leisurely drinking in the sight of him.
As we buckle up in my dad’s car, Daniel asks where we're going, and I tell him about one of my favorite restaurants in the area, “Tavern on the Rush.”
He nods impassively, confirming.
“If we take I-90 it shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes, and with the nice weather today maybe we can sit in the patio café,” I say out loud, though it's more to myself.
“Whatever you suggest works for me. You are the local. Just hurry!” he mutters, sending me a fleeting, wicked grin while folding his Dr. Dre Beats in their travel case. He puts on his aviators and sits back in his casual stance.
“What was the plan? Hop on a plane and take the risk?” I send a teasing glance over to him.
He twists his mouth into a scowl. “I called Natasha last night. She told me exactly how you were, and I decided I had to be there for you.” All traces of playfulness vanish from the planes of his face. Natasha, as in, my roommate-best-friend-eternal-soul-mate who happens to also be one of Daniel’s employees at his cyber security company.
“Oh,” is all I manage to say with the numerous thoughts casting about in my mind. I guess that’s where he also got Steven’s details.
I suddenly realize that I haven’t told my parents the news about Steven yet. It should have been the first thing I should have done as soon as I heard he was fine. I guess the recent emotional whirlwind clouded my right mind.
“So, how did you get the information about Steven?” I ask. I need to have some background before making that call to finally let them out of their misery.
“Remember the Thai deal?”
How can I not. It was the same deal that kept him so consumed and stressed for so long. I affirm nodding.
“Well...” He sighs. “When you deal with foreign ministries of defense you liaison on a national level. So, bottom line, I used some of my connections to get information about your brother.”
Judging from his expression as he concludes―the same one I grew to know so well―I am fully aware that this is the only information he will share with me on the subject.
I call my parents next and share the news with them. When they ask where I got the information I find myself trapped in a corner. I never told them about Daniel, so I can’t just say he told me. And even if he doesn’t want to, he'll be able to clearly hear my conversation. Soon he’ll find out that I’ve never told my parents about him, and I’m not sure what he’ll make of that.
When I tell them that I got the information from a good friend, Daniel’s eyes instantly dart to me, and he drops the polite pretense that he's not eavesdropping. I try to seem casual and shrug, but he doesn’t look like he's about to let it go.
“They don’t know about me?” he asks as soon as I end the call, staring at me sideways in clear disappointment. I squirm in my chair, all of a sudden very attentive to the open road ahead, as if I'm slaloming through heavy traffic.
“I didn’t want them to worry about me being upset, you know, with them having enough to worry about.”
He's too still, studying me through narrowed eyes. He doesn’t seem even remotely convinced by or satisfied with my explanation.
“And before that? Didn’t you tell them about me when things were fine between us?” His stare is unsettling; I can feel it figuratively boring into me.
Suddenly I feel bad about never telling them about him, especially considering that he made sure I met his mother and told her all about me right from the start. I try to make sense of my decision to remain silent and the answer becomes immediately clear: I wasn’t certain we would last long, or at all. I had so many doubts about his intentions; every sensible part of me felt that he would end up hurting me. And given the course of our intense, short relationship, I hadn't been that far off.
“No, I didn’t,” I say quietly.
He turns to look out the window and from a glimpse of the side of his face I can see the muscles in his jaw sawing under his bristly skin. Okay, if we've gotten to this point we might as well continue, now is a good of time as ever to face this topic. We should have discussed it a while ago.
“Are we going to address the real mammoth in the car?”
He pivots his stare back to me and studies me with tapered eyes. He lifts his hands to his nose in a praying pose, the wheels of his mind visibly working.
“You know, Daniel, the best way to solve a problem is to realize it exists first.” I bite my lips, shifting my eyes back and forth between the road and his face. I knew we'd have to deal with this issue sooner or later; we can't just sweep it under the rug and hope for the best. History has a tendency to repeat itself, and every time it has a greater impact. Hell if I go through this again with my eyes shut.
He rests his hand on my thigh and clears his throat. “Yes, I plead guilty for screwing things up, but I did serve my sentence. Hales, the thought of losing you was the most severe punishment I could get.” He glances my way and the sincere, determined look in his eyes overwhelms me with its intensity. “I should have trusted you from the beginning. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I should have asked you first for your side of the story,” he says, and my heart swells. He's admitting to something I never thought he would. Same thing that made me doubt any chance of full forgiveness.
“But the thought of you, of all people, betraying me...”
I cringe.
“I guess I felt vulnerable, and I don’t do vulnerable, I don’t know how to deal with vulnerable.” He exhales audibly, frustrated. “I did think
for a while there that you betrayed my trust—and you know just how highly I value trust. I saw nothing but red when I saw that article, Hales. And I shouldn’t have. I should have talked to you first.” He squeezes my thigh. “I apologize for the way I’ve treated you, baby. Never again. You deserve better and that’s what you’ll get.” He licks his lower lip and continues, “I’ll do anything not to lose you again.” The last part comes out softer, emotional.
A surge of otherworldy adoration fills my heart at the sincerity of his words. “Love” can’t begin to describe what I feel for you, D. After a quick glance at the rearview mirror I make a sharp turn onto the graveled shoulder and stop. Daniel looks back at the road quizzically. I bite my lips and yank on my seatbelt, hurriedly, climbing clumsily onto his thighs.
“Woah.” He says in surprise. As he realizes what I'm doing, a sweet, crooked, boyish smile appears on his lips. I huff away a curl from my face, and he chuckles softly. His eyes light up, and lock with mine. “Hey there,” he says with a side smile.
I smirk. “To what do I have the honor?” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him feverishly.
“I just had to,” I explain, grinning, as we pull back. He smirks and leaves a small, chaste kiss on my lips, I mirror him and we both chuckle somewhat goofily. He wraps me tight, and presses me to him. Through the hug complain comes from his stomach, a complain in the form of an aggravated grumble. I snicker and he shrugs. I pat his toned chest. “Okay, okay, I get it, food…”
“Will you be climbing your way back as elegantly and femininely as you got here?” He grins wickedly at me. “Or you might be using this great invention...” He taps the door. I give him a mischievous look, which he laughs off, and return the same way I came. He snickers, watching me amusedly, slapping my butt as it so “gracefully” moves past his chest. I buckle up and beam at him. As I hit the turning signal, Daniel says solemnly, “I meant every word I said.” It leaves me pensive and silent. On one hand, there’s so much I want to say back about how hurt I was, about how he can never act that way again if he wants us to work out—but on the other he's just apologized for the exact same things I wanted to confront him with.
Should I keep chewing on this or should I just let it go?
Daniel examines my face and his takes on a naughty look. “Miss Grace. Have you lost your words now? Do you need a moment?” I giggle and roll my eyes at him. “Well,” I say, “as long as we both agree that we should trust each other and communicate, this breakup wasn’t for nothing.” I choose the non-nagging option and put my hand on the palm resting on my thigh. He takes it in his, lifts it to his mouth and plants a warm, lengthy kiss.
“Communication and trust, Daniel.”
“Communication and trust,” he repeats to the center of my palm.
“But,” I nearly stutter, slightly queasy, “I should also apologize.” His brows knit as he watches me. “I should have been more careful talking about your private life in public.” I chew on my cheek. “You can’t even imagine how bad I felt—and still feel—about all of that ending up public.” I swallow hard over the lump that has momentarily formed in my throat.
His answer to my apology is another kiss to the center of my hand and a warm, “I love you, Hales.”
It takes all of my strength for tears not to roll down my face. “And me you, Daniel.” To outer space and back.
“Now that we got today’s pleasantries out of the way, where’s this restaurant you promised me?”
I laugh and pull into the parking lot.
As we make our way to the entrance, I inquire about the new software release that had preoccupied him for far too long. “How is the situation at work? Is there any improvement?”
“There's some progress, I’d say. Frankly, I’m optimistic that we’ll eventually pull it off, though I have to still chaperone it more than I'd like.” His voice is weary as he says the last part.
And yet here you are.
“I missed you,” he says, using his sometimes creepy innate talent to read my mind.
“I missed us,” I reply.
The voluptuous young hostess smiles professionally as she approaches, then for real as she sees Daniel up close. Luckily there's a vacant table at the garden cafe, so she immediately seats us at the far end of the balcony.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your brunch,” she says, handing us our menus. She eats Daniel up with her ogling and concludes with a red seductive wide grin. I frown at her and glance at Mr. Oblivious, who’s deeply engaged in his menu.
Without looking up, he reaches for my chair and pulls it closer til it touches his with the faint rasping sound of metal against metal. I smile at him and turn to get my sunglasses from my bag, cleaning them with the hem of my white cotton shirt before putting them on.
“What do you want?” Daniel asks, tipping his chin at the menu. He adds, “You're still too far away. I need you closer.” He drinks me up with glittering eyes and that up-to-no-good curve of his lips—the same expression that has hijacked me so many times, it’s hard to keep count.
“I’m right beside you.” My answer is ornamented with a flirty tone.
“Still too far,” Daniel says. He opens his legs to allow some space between them, then turns to grab my bare legs that stretch out of my cutout jeans and drapes them between his.
“This is a respectable place, you know.”
“As if I give a fuck.” He grins and tugs my hand, pulling me close enough to connect his mouth to mine in a ravenous kiss.
“Much better,” he murmurs, nibbling under my ear.
“I’ll have coffee,” I say.
He arches an eyebrow, studying me carefully, his face a degree more on edge. “Have you eaten lately?”
Define “eat”. If any sort of caffeine beverage is food, then yes; if not, then I'll go with no. Thanks to you…
“Eaten?” I play innocent.
He tilts his head to the side and twists his mouth in a “you're kidding, right?” look.
“Well?”
“Not much.” I look at him from under my lashes and send him a coy smile.
“You’ll start now, even if I have to force feed you.”
Stow away your feeding tube, psycho.
He looks at me for a minute and then laces his hands into the hair at my temples. His mouth curves up at the side to a small, pointed smile.
Inclining his handsome face toward mine, he whispers into my lips, “God, I missed you.” The tip of his tongue traces my bottom lip and slowly but determinedly makes its way deeper.
As we meet, our tongues start a slow, sensual dance. My blood warms up so quickly it feels like the tip of his tongue controls my body temperature. I lean toward him, and the hands that are twined through my hair draw me deeper into our kiss.
A polite cough breaks the spell. Reluctantly, we break contact. We look at each other meaningfully, and before finally addressing the waiter I whisper back, “I missed you, too.” Daniel’s lips pull up and his eyes send me that special glee.
“What can I get you?” The waiter's voice prompts us to look up.
“We’ll have a dozen oysters on the half-shell—six iced, six Rockefeller—the tuna avocado tartare, a lobster skewer and the Kobe club.” Huh? Are we menstruating or something?
“Anything to drink?” The pimpled guy turns his stare from me to Daniel and back.
“Kir Royal, a Bloody Mary and a double shot, extra hot cappuccino, and go easy on the froth.” I beam at him as he orders my coffee: exactly the way I like it. He turns to wink at me. I grin.
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“And who, exactly, is going to eat all of that?” I have to ask; he ordered enough food for a small army.
“You.” For a moment I think he really means it, and I’m about to rant about waste and world hunger, but when his lips quirk up; I shake my head and smile.
“I’m starving, baby.” He pats his nonexistent gut.
&nbs
p; As we wait for the food to arrive I tell Daniel about my weekend at my parents' and he fills me in on his last couple of weeks: long days at work and intense nocturnal workouts at his home gym.
“Hey, D.” I beam at him. He turns to give me his undivided attention.
“You know, you couldn’t be more wrong about Josh.” Creases form in his forehead as he regards me with a quizzical stare. That Ken-doll look-alike, preppy boss of mine with the Colgate smile.
“My boss, Josh. Not only is he not into me, he's gay, and he has a very distinguish taste for exotic-looking hotties.” My lips curve up. “Exotic looking hotties, as in, my beloved Ian.” My Ian that, apart from being a green eyed and flawlessly olive-skinned model, is also one of the few people who owns a chunk of my heart.
“Well, you do cloud my judgement, Hales. I blame you.” He chuckles. “And I’m glad for you to be surrounded by gay men.”
I roll my eyes at him and he snorts out a short laugh.
“Here you go.” The waiter sets our piles of food on the table and nods politely.
Daniel hands me a bubbly drink with a cherry at the bottom and lifts his Bloody Mary. “To lots of makeup sex.” He grins at me, and I clink his glass with a matching smile.
He takes one of the iced oysters and looks at me with a suggestive, crooked stretch of his lip. “Head back. Open your mouth,” he commands in his husky, authoritative voice. I eye him in sheer contentment.
From shattered to this, in the blink of a night sleep.
As I oblige, he slides the oyster out of the shell, through my parted lips. I let the salty, lemony, chilled delight slide down my throat, savoring every bit of it. Before I manage to straighten my posture, his hand holds me firmly at the nape of my neck, bringing me closer to him while his nose nuzzles at my temple. His lip brushes mine slowly, very slowly. A surge of warmth nestles in my stomach.
I indulge Daniel with the same feeding treatment I so enjoyed just a moment ago.
As I turn to take a sip of my drink, he suddenly drifts away. I study him, alerted by how his forehead wrinkles and his lips form into a tense, thin line.
Inner Core: (Stark, #2) Page 2