by Pamela Ann
Languid and mollified, I was lost to the magic of his touch. The sensual rhythm of it, basking in his faint signature masculine scent—I was drunk off it all. Bit by bit, touch by touch, my arousal intensified, strengthened by each passing second until reaching that pivotal point of no return. My hips slowly shifted and gyrated, causing a small ripple of waves as I moaned, unrestrained. And just before I was about to completely lose it, I felt the warmth of his hand cup the crevice between my thighs.
“Shh … Let me take care of it, babe,” he roughly grated out against my ear, breathing heavily on it as he began to glide his middle finger from the top of my nub all the way down, as if testing the slickness of it. Then he brought it back up and targeted that sensitized button, rubbing it with relentless accuracy, honed expertise, and bold determination.
“Drew!” I cried out, sobbing at the powerful intensity his ministrations were creating within me.
“I love it when you say my name like that,” he hissed into my ear before he furiously bit the side of my neck while his finger continued building chaos within.
A sharp gasp came out of my lips when I felt his lips suck the area he had bitten into, as if pacifying the ache. It accomplished that and then some. The double effect took me on a tumultuous storm as my climax began to climb to its peak before shattering me into pieces while screaming out his name in vain.
Freefalling back to the bottom took quite a toll on me, leaving me a breath away from a deep coma.
Chapter 45
It was the faint echo of a man’s laugh that brought me slowly into awareness. My mind took in the sound of my surroundings, the body following suit. And not before long, my eyes gradually debuted themselves, greeted by the sharp brightness of the room.
I was in a middle of a small groan, feeling the mind-numbing pain travelling from the tip of my foot to my hip, more so my foot. It felt as though someone were squeezing it so hard they were almost about to crush my bones. Shitcakes. It wasn’t the greatest of feelings to wake up to.
Frightened to move an inch of my lower body, I shifted my face to the side to check the time and was taken aback at what I found, instead. There was my medication next to a bottle of water and my crutches casually leaning against the table.
A deep frown creased my face. I blinked a few times before my eyes took in all the items, and then a quick, vivid flashback of last night’s events made me lose my breath. What the flying fuck had I done?
“Did I really try to hump the bathtub?” Holy cunty! “Was I that high or what?” Obviously, I had been beyond high, though I had to take into account that, despite being out of my mind, I had taken pleasure from everything that happened. I could catalogue each passing second that he had touched me, biting my neck before he nibbled on the back of my earlobe with his feral lips and tongue while giving me one of the best orgasms I’d had in my life. Well, I had to take into account that there hadn’t been many, so there wasn’t much to compare it with. Nevertheless, I had acted like a shameless cunty, and so I must face the backlash in my walk of shame, which would happen quite soon. I cringed silently and colorfully cursed myself until I ran out of vocabulary.
Blowing out a breath, I ran a hand through my hair before my eyes dropped, and I noted that I was wearing a shirt that wasn’t mine, a black shirt that was rather too large for my frame. It had to be Drew’s. Helpless, I lifted it to my nose, breathing in his familiar scent. That musk that was all him reminded me of his feral eyes, those lips, a tongue that could make me lose my name, his teeth that deliciously dug into my skin and absolutely whetted my arousal to new heights.
I want him. Still.
The silent admission didn’t shock me, but what would I do about it? And if I did decide to do something, what was I willing to sacrifice? Because I wouldn’t come out of it unscathed, not with him. Never with him. This was Drew Cavendish, my Drew Cavendish. I had known him since childhood. I knew what he preferred and despised, how he privately dealt with his pain. I knew how his mother’s death troubled him far more than he cared to admit, that on Sundays, he particularly felt more alone than any other day. He was as guarded as he was generous. He was the guy who had secretly watched chick flicks with me. He had gifted me sweet nothings all throughout my life; my old room was littered with little tokens from him.
Yes, it wasn’t a hardship falling for him. The man used to be the center of my universe. The rest of the world was black and white, while he solely existed in vivid colors. He took care of me in ways no one ever had. Even last night, in a wicked way, he had relieved me from my own misery without wanting anything in exchange. True, I might have been quite a pitiful sight while I had become a demented horny woman, but even still, he hadn’t laughed at me. Instead, he’d offered his expertise to release the unsated wantonness side of me. Only he could achieve such a feat. Only he could bring me to such unadulterated ecstasy.
Left with such a weighty dilemma, I pondered while I took ahold of the small medication bottle, opened, and released one big pill before washing it down with the water he had also provided. Before I could prolong my wondering, though, his amused laughter echoed through the hall. It was profound since my door was left ajar, as if he had been consistently checking in on me throughout the night.
Whom was he talking to who made him laugh like that? It was no business of mine, but I couldn’t help wondering. Whomever it was, it was someone he truly liked. He wasn’t one to be easily amused by women, because when he was with them, he aimed for a different entertainment, and laughter wasn’t usually part of that.
Both he and my brother had indubitably changed since they had moved here. Was I the only one bothered by it? They seemed to accept it as though it weren’t a big deal.
How could anyone throw away years of friendship? I couldn’t imagine doing the same thing to Courtney. My conscience wouldn’t let me sleep a wink if I was indirectly hurting her.
But like Drew had stated before, people changed. And if they both had, how did one deal with a familiar stranger? The question applied to them both just as it did with me in regards to Drew alone. He was a familiar stranger. Familiar because we had a past and years upon years of memories together, but a stranger since I didn’t know his heart, how the workings of his mind ticked—well, not anymore. He used to open up to me before that night had taken place.
My heart sank at the thought of the past. After all those tears, the unending hard work of trying to move on exorcising his memory from my mind, from my heart—they were all for naught. After all, here I was, back to square one, figuring out how to survive this with less damage to my heart.
Yes, I was bracing for the inevitable. How and when that would take place, I had no fucking clue. All I knew was I was trying to act smart about it by trying to protect myself, even if it was on a miniscule scale. Whatever happened, I vowed never to be like I had been before: the zombie-like Chloe who lived and breathed with one purpose in mind—Drew Cavendish.
First loves, from what I had gathered, were the ones that scarred you for the rest of your existence. Whoever said that had seriously gone through some mental and deep psychotic shit, a subject beyond relatable to me.
I moved to sit on the edge of my bed before grabbing the crutches. My right hand added some serious pressure while I maneuvered to stand on one foot, leveling myself until I was fully aware and balanced with the crutches securely tucked under my arms. Blowing out a reassuring breath, I took a small yet steady step forward, needing to use the bathroom. Getting there felt as though I were slower than a turtle, but I managed to accomplish the feat with no accident, which made me proud of myself.
There was no doubt that my life for the next four to six weeks—if that—would be done at a snail’s pace. God help me while trying to work this thing around campus. I had never felt so much for the disabled. Such brave souls to do what they did each day, and they did it with a smile. I shouldn’t complain, really. Life could be worse. With that positive perspective in mind, I carried on toward the door.
I wasn’t going to lie; I was terrified of what our conversation would be like after last night, but I would rather it happened right this instant than let it fester like a rotten wound. It would worsen if not treated. It was an extreme comparison, but he had been my wound … and he had never fully healed. I had merely applied a Band-Aid to it and wished it away, fooling myself into believing I was well and truly over him. Each passing day here in New York had proved to me otherwise.
It was another problem to be tackled later on. For the time being, I had to make sure things were peachy between us.
When I found him in the living room, I stood a few feet away, studying him discreetly. Bare-chested, he only wore navy jogger pants, holding the phone against his ear as he paced the room, never noticing my presence. There was no denying how drop dead beautiful he was. Handsome didn’t fit him well. Beautiful was slightly more fitting. From his toes to his strong hands, the honed six-layered abdomen, his muscular body from years of surfing and mountain biking, his lashes that put mine to shame, his jaw, the face—fucking everything. I couldn’t find a fault, and that was just his physical attributes. Double down on his mental skills, and the guy was lethal. Above it all, I would rather he had some imperfections than his emotional incapability.
For as long as I had known him, he had never been in a relationship. Of course, he’d gone on dates, but he had never taken the chance to test how he would fair in being involved. Before, I had pinned it down to being selective. I couldn’t be too sure anymore. In some ways, he remained an enigma to me.
“… Cancel … Something came up … yeah… nah…” He let out an enthused laugh before he tugged the hair on the side of his head, quite absorbed with the conversation.
My eyes trained on him, analyzing. If I didn’t know any better, I could accuse him of being happy, which was as troubling as it was bizarre.
“I’ll stop by soon … yeah … okay… I will … you, too.”
I caught him smiling before he ended the call. Casually strolling toward the hall, he found me. A puzzled look crossed his features as if he were trying to figure out if I had been eavesdropping or not. Had he asked if I was, I wouldn’t deny it. Fortunately for me, he merely shrugged before giving the same dashing smile that he had moments ago, blinding me.
“Can I carry you anywhere, little missy?” He beamed as he came to greet me, gazing at me with a soft, thoughtful look on his face.
Okay … I had to admit that line made me smile like an idiot. For an icebreaker, it wasn’t bad. Not bad, indeed.
“I’m good for now. Thanks for thinking ahead by placing the meds on the table. That was very nice of you.” Without it, I doubted I would have had enough strength to endure going to the kitchen.
Instead of responding, he decided to carry on a different conversation. “Are you hungry? Since you’re obviously not pleased with my cooking skills, I can pick up food from any restaurant you fancy.”
How did he come up with such irrational ideas? Last night, I truly hadn’t had an appetite.
“You’re cooking is amazing—as I’ve told you over the years—so don’t insult me like that. You know better. But to answer your question, no, I’m not hungry, but I’d love a glass of juice.”
“You almost never are these days,” he said. “I’ll let you slide this time, but promise me you’re going to eat a full meal today, and when I say ‘full meal,’ I’m not talking about cheese, crackers, or BLT sandwiches, Chlo.”
“Sure. So long as that shuts you up about food.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, woman.” He beamed before carefully carrying me and my crutches to the couch. He was so attentively thorough he made sure to place a pillow under my foot, elevating it before securing a few more cushions at my back, easing the pressure.
“Thank you,” I murmured with a warm smile.
“You’re very welcome, babe,” he replied then strolled toward the kitchen to pour me my refreshment.
It felt mighty great to be properly cared for by a man. Hell, how long had it been? Never. Yeah, I was a relationship virgin. Frowning at the sudden realization of my age, I wondered if that made me a bad candidate to be deemed as one.
I admitted I hadn’t given it much thought. I had dated countless times, but never in a romantic way…well, not on my part, anyway. Then again, who was in a hurry to be tied down to a commitment?
Look at Courtney. I loved her to bits, and she was just as carefree as I had been before, yet after she had gotten into her relationship, she had become riddled with all sorts of problems, doubts and insecurities. It was normal, she said, but I shook my head and called her downright delusional. That was what best friends were for—they said things that one didn’t want to hear, but they stated them, anyway
With all that drama, topped with the crux of my failed love life, who would have the time to sort and deal with anything? Pondering about it already exhausted me, so I could only imagine what it would be like to deal with it in reality. Being single would be the most logical solution … until I met someone who could literally turn my world upside down, inside out. Only then would I consider being in a relationship. Oh, wait, I already had. I guessed until another man could change my mind, in which case, I hoped he understood what he was competing against.
All those nonsensical but typical crazy thoughts aside, Drew’s unyielding campaign to feed me non-stop wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was best I got used to it. And since he was the only person who could help me for the next few days, I was stuck with his strict eating regimen consisting of massive carbs, boatloads of grease, fatty meats with a side of bloating, and a serious case of heart attack. Since he worked out, he could easily sweat it off without looking like he had just stuffed himself.
I was at his mercy until the weekend…
Food and a half-naked Drew Cavendish … only my two top favorite things in life. Both could only be consumed in small doses. Both were my worst fixations.
Both were determined to tempt me to sin again.
Chapter 46
Drew had apparently mapped out what the rest of the day entailed, even when I was in dire need to use the restroom. The moment I mentioned I had to go, he didn’t even give me a chance to object; he simply took me to the powder room located between the kitchen and living room—which wasn’t a far journey—and then he took it upon himself to make sure I was the least inconvenienced. He even went as far as to absurdly offer to sit me down, which I vehemently rejected. I mean, I had to learn how to use the bathroom all by myself sometime. Besides, after last night’s one-sided intimate encounter, I wasn’t ready for another close call. My heart and sanity could only handle so much.
The afternoon was anything but productive. We ended up spending it lounging in the living room, going through half of the first season of The Originals. I wasn’t big on vampire romance nor was he, but we somehow ended up watching the first episode and couldn’t seem to quit Niklaus Mikaelson and his crazy vampire family. Talk about eccentric, manic, narcissistic personalities with a dash of forbidden love, danger, sex, blood, and witchcraft. It was an enthralling recipe. Hell, it sure beat watching any of those scripted reality franchises with squabbling women who made me feel like the sanest person alive.
As the time stuck five-thirty, I was surprised when someone buzzed the doorbell. When Drew came back from checking who it was, he had a massive paper bag in his hand with a Mastro’s logo emblazoned on it.
“Dinner’s here, he announced before setting the contents on the coffee table in front of us.
I wasn’t going to lie; I salivated like no other at the smell of perfectly charred steak and the thought of lobster mashed potatoes and creamed corn.
“You weren’t joking when you said a full meal. You really go all out by getting my favorites, knowing t I won’t be able to say no.”
He responded with a smug smile. “Oh, yeah, I’m bringing out the big guns, woman.”
There was no doubt that he was. I wasn’t even sur
e the restaurants did delivery, but he had somehow managed it.
“You’re bent on making me fat.”
“I’m bent on making sure you enjoy the simplest things in life—the power of taste,” he emphasized. “It’s good to indulge once in a while.”
The power of taste, my chunky ass. I smirked at him, irritatingly amused by him. Whatever. I was beyond delighted that he had chosen to feed me nothing but the best. He sure did enjoy spoiling me in his own way. It was a reminder of how things had been between us before. His thoughtfulness never failed to make my heart skip a few beats.
“I’ll go ahead and get some utensils. What can I get you to drink?”
“Diet coke. I’ll need to burp after all this.”
“You bet.”
He came back with my soda and a beer for himself.
“Can I press play now?” I glanced at him, hoping we could watch and eat at the same time. There was no way I could properly eat without my mind running back to the Mikaelson. When I got obsessed with a new show, there was no stopping me, like with everything else in my life. It wasn’t a shocker, really.
“Nice try. Like I could really stop you from pressing that button, babe, but thanks for asking.” He smirked before taking a big gulp of his drink.
Without hesitation, I pressed the button on the remote, resuming where we had left off. Not that I was consumed by being cozy with Drew since the show was beyond entertaining, but when our hands crossed paths while forking a side dish, I couldn’t help blushing deeply. It was idiotic, yet it felt like home … and that last bit of revelation taunted me each and every time our gazes connected. It was as disconcerting as it was heartwarming.
There was nothing left on my plate, not even a streak of lobster mash. I was half-expecting him to joke about my newfound appetite, but he didn’t seem to care.