by V. L. Brock
In the parking lot of the cream and tan colored building, I peeped over the high-rise porch entrance to the blue overhead sign. “Sky Zone,” I muttered before dragging studying eyes away from the establishment, and wrenched my head to have them study Irish.
He had already shut off the ignition, and his hands were settled on his thighs. He was staring at me expectantly. “You need to have some fun. And there is nowhere as much fun in Boston, than this place.” He gestured up at the structure with a tip of his brow.
Finally conceding on a skeptical, nervous whimper, he tapped my thigh twice. My body cried out when his forceful hand gripped my flesh after the second playful blow. I unbuckled my seatbelt and let myself out of the truck.
By the time my feet had connected with the asphalt, his arm was already coiled around my shoulders, drawing me into his side. Without thinking, I found myself wrapping my arm around his waist as we approached the building, giggling. It didn’t mean anything. Friends could do this…couldn’t they?
What I can only describe as a sea of trampolines stood waiting before us. And not only limited to the flooring. God, no. That would have been too simple. They were angled against the walls, too. It was terrifyingly amazing. I had never seen such a zone.
“You ready, darlin’?” he asked with a roguish grin.
“Umm…this screams accident, Walker,” I replied, nipping the corner of my lower lip. My attention fixated on the sea of trampolines.
He was already clambering onto the bouncy surface, when he assured me. “Do you really think I would take you somewhere where you could get hurt?” Stretching his arm out to me encouragingly, I eyed up his hand. “Come on, Kady, it’ll be fun.”
With a loud exhale, I shrugged coolly. “The leprechaun said so, so it must be true, right?” I was yanked up after I tossed my hand into his.
“’Aye, this leprechaun doesn’t lie.”
“I think you left out the ‘wee, little,’” I teased.
I choked on a breath as his hand rose to snare my chin. My head tipped back, I was restrained to look solely into bright, teasing, yet deadly serious blue eyes. “I’m far from little, Kady,” he hummed with seductive intent. His eyes danced while the left corner of his mouth capered with a secretive grin. I swear I issued a tiny, needy whimper.
For the life of me, my lungs didn’t want to work, and the rise of my libido had it bouncing right out of the fucking window. That statement roved and coiled around my head all day, and even though I shouldn’t have, my attention was involuntarily falling onto the southern site of his body, and the gathering of his denim pants weren’t helping my already sexually inquisitive state.
After a while, I loosened up on the idea that if I was to fall, at least I would bounce straight back. Which oddly enough, I found rather ironic considering the situation I was in. Walker singing that very song invaded my mind at that very moment. His voice was astounding. I privately cringed as I remembered about McGinty’s the following night for karaoke. Already a terrible singer, being next to him is going to make me sound fifty times as worse.
I had already built up a significant sweat in my jeans and camisole as I continued to bounce and flounce over the springy surface for what seemed like an hour. Walker must have been dying considering he was dressed in a V-neck sweater.
Every skilled maneuver of his body I brazenly observed. Flinging himself around in somersaults and backflips, his disposition already radiated sex, but seeing him like this…damn. I was sure any woman could get pregnant just by looking at him.
His sweater rose as he tossed himself against the wall, bounding from it in a backflip. I was awed at his abilities. Still, before I could catch a peek at his torso, he quickly adjusted the material to cover his magnificent body once again. I couldn’t understand why someone who was so self-assured, and obviously very much in shape, wouldn’t want to flaunt his body.
“Go on, Kady, give it ago,” he encouraged, pointing at the wall.
“Fuck off; I’ll break my damn neck.”
He released a deep, throaty laugh while bouncing God only knows how many feet in the air as he made his way toward me. “Nah, you won’t, I’ll assist.”
He took my hands in his, callouses grazed across the sensitive flesh of my palms. He reassured me that he wouldn’t let me go, and finally, got me to stand on the angled trampoline.
“Now push yourself off it, but aim––”
Too late. Following through with the first part of his instruction, I shunted myself from the surface, knocking him down and crashing into his body, which lay immobile beneath me. My left leg pressed in between his, our hands still locked and stretched slightly above his head.
“…Aim toward the right of me,” he concluded, before we set about chortling at my failure.
Chuckles ebbed when the atmosphere amongst us charged with such intensity, that the smiles were stripped from our faces. Chests heaving, I fought against my body’s need to surrender to the intensity of desire slowly surfacing, and rock my pelvis into him, as his thigh rested between my own.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed, my voice splintered with wanting. Our mouths were mere centimeters away from each other. All it would take was for my arms to buckle, and I would crash down with what would most possibly be the biggest mistake of my life.
I may have been many things, but a cheater wasn’t one of them.
“Don’t be.” My breathing became more and more ragged while I observed the formation of his mouth as he freed his words. The vibrations which they voyaged on connected and passed through my body, sending me into hyper-alert. The prominence of his Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed. I saw his lips twitch, his eyes fluttered from my mouth to my eyes before searching wildly. Fingers threaded, our hands clutched tightly when he whispered, “Are you alright, darlin’?”
I had no idea. Was I? My body broke out with unrelenting goose bumps of longing. My core heated, damp and throbbing as it lay pressed on his muscular, denim-clad thigh. My leg rested over his central bulge, and all I could think was, ‘he’s right, he is far from little’.
Through a V scored between my eyebrows, I commanded myself to halt my contemplations and speak. “I don’t know,” I whispered in earnest, shaking my head faintly. “I really don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
The journey home was filled with discomfort. The considerable form of awkwardness you encounter after you realize your day is going to be based on the enormity of your What Ifs.
Pulling into the driveway alongside the only white house on the block, I unbuckled my belt, and shifted in the seat so my left ankle was snug under my right knee. “I had fun today. Thank you, Walker.”
With the car keys in his hand, he concentrated on his fingers while he fiddled with the metal. “I’m glad,” he muttered with a degree of, what I could only assume, was despondency.
I waited for him to finish his sentence, nevertheless, it didn’t come. With a raised brow I rolled my lips quickly over my teeth before allowing them to pop free. “Walker, have I done something wrong?”
Forlorn, he gave a little head shake. “Nah,” he rasped. “You were perfect, Kady.”
“Then why the silent treatment?”
The rustling noise as he scoured his right hand down his face and over his stubble rebounded around the truck. He tipped his head back and spoke to the roof. “It’s nothing to worry about, Kady. Worrying gets you nowhere.”
What the fuck was his problem? “Okay, now you are doing my fucking head in!” I hissed, folding my arms across my chest. Only one of us can be the voice of reason at any one time. I refuse to be it. It’s his turn.
Head rolling over the rest, he wrenched his eyes away from the roof of the truck and set them on me, his dejected expression ebbing, only to be replaced with utter confusion. “Excuse me?”
“You take me out to have some fun, which I thought we did have. And now you’re all, ‘someone has just run over my puppy’. For fuck sake, Walker, what is your problem?�
�
“I beg your pardon? Stop getting you knickers in a twist, darlin’.”
“I will stop getting my ‘knickers’ in a twist, when you pull your head from your ass,” I countered.
The corners of our mouths twitched in unison. My arm unfolded to mask my lips while I strived to bring an end to the muscle spasm. Eyes glistened in wry hilarity and before we knew what hit us, the gawky atmosphere of the truck was pierced by guffawing.
“Oh, Kady,” he virtually eclipsed my denim-clad thigh when he set a warm, large hand on me. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked.
“I have no idea. How do you usually deal with me?”
A fleeting grin struck, and by the shimmer in his eyes that I witnessed before he hung his head, I knew that I could have worded that question with a little less innuendo.
“I got an idea,” I spoke which merited me a raise of his head. “I don’t particularly want to be on my own, what with my head running a marathon and so on. So, why don’t you stay for a bit? We can order pizza, watch a movie, hang out. Just something to keep me sane,” I added the last few words with a pleading expression which matched my tone.
Seconds, which felt like hours, ensued in stillness. Finally, he conceded to my offering, with the request of no rom-coms. It was a request I could deal with, if it gave me the ability to revel in that pleasant lilt, and look at his dear face for a few more hours.
In search of the takeout menus, we rummaged through the drawers and units of the kitchen. In the end, it was Walker who flashed the pamphlet in front of my face, doing a little victory dance as he waved the paper around. “So what are you going to have, darlin’?” He opened it up and began to browse.
“I don’t mind, but I have to warn you, I’m a complete garlic freak.”
When he lowered the menu from his face, he was gaping at me incredulously. “No, really? I would never have thought that,” he enunciated mordantly, the Indian Ocean overcome with high waves while he rolled them heavenward.
“Sarcasm”––I back handed him impishly in the gut, causing him to bow over with a chuckle––“gets you nowhere, Walker.”
“’Aye, so you say, but you’ll be surprised darlin’.” He scanned the menu again, before tossing it on the island and cursing under his breath. Pulling his cell-phone out of his front pocket, he studied the screen while it continued to buzz in his hand.
“Are you going to answer that? Or are you having the conversation telepathically.”
He pressed a button then stuffed it back into the compartment. “I tell you what, darlin’. You order, and I’ll pop out and get some beers. I’ll be back before food arrives.” I was startled as he pressed a kiss against my cheek, the gruff which seemingly piqued my curiosity many a time recently, grazed across my flesh, leaving a chaffing, sensuous sting in its wake. It was different. I liked it. I liked it a lot. “I won’t be long.”
Before I proceeded to trail him through the lower level of the house, I fetched the discarded menu from the wooden surface. Asking what he wanted me to order, while shoving his feet into his boots, he answered me with a shrewd grin and a wink, which provoked the urge to jump on him, the bastard.
“I’ll eat anything, Kady. You pick.” Then he was out of the door, down the steps, taking two at a time, and slamming the truck door closed behind him.
I watched him drive off, before shutting the door firmly behind me as I went back inside. Traipsing up the wooden stairs, I turned the left corner, stepping through the first door into my bedroom with the menu in my hand. I placed the order using the upstairs handset and then slipped out of my tight fitted jeans and camisole, into something more comfortable, with enough room to sustain my looming replete stomach.
It was 6:45 p.m. when a knock on the door informed me that food had arrived, and Walker still wasn’t back yet. If he thought I was waiting to dig in until he arrived, he had another thing coming. I was starving after burning off all those calories at Sky Zone. I deserved to indulge in some greasy food.
I fetched my purse off the table, and swung the door open. “That’s twenty-five dollars, seventy-eight cents.” The delivery boy sporting a red and blue delivery polo top and cap muttered, while focusing intently on the order slip in his hand. When he lifted his head, his mouth dropped open. My God, a tongue-tied teenager on my doorstep…fuck, maybe I should’ve changed. I didn’t want to give Walker the wrong impression.
I handed him thirty dollars, telling him to keep the change while I was awkwardly placed under his adolescent scrutiny. The pick-up turned into the driveway just as I was taking the boxes off the delivery boy.
“Damn, I thought I was making good timing,” Walker called over the loud din of him slamming the door shut. He ambled up the front steps with two brown paper bags. “You guys are getting good on customer service.” He patted the boys back once, before stepping over the threshold.
“Have a good night,” I dismissed the boy, who gingerly turned, and tottered down my steps, back to his scooter.
“You were cutting it fine,” I pushed the door closed, and pressed my back against the wood. Even through the full-length, satin robe with lace panel shoulders, which I was wearing, I could feel the bitter coolness of the polished surface. “I was going to eat your half, too.”
He was sitting on the lower stair undoing his heavy, black boots. Head down low, I was winded by his eyes as they glided up the stretch of my body. “That may well be possible; you’re going to give me fucking heart failure in that, darlin’.” He shunted himself from the step.
I shrugged a noncommittal shoulder. “I can’t eat something like this in skin tight jeans, Walker. I need some give,” I explained heading through the right archway into the kitchen, with Walker trailing behind me with the bags. “So, what did you get?”
Ever the showman, he flailed his arms over the paper bags, before diving inside to reveal the contents. “We have beer for yours truly. And wine for the lady.”
After gripping the bottle of white by the neck and studying it carefully, I stole a hesitant look at him. “No corkscrew required?”
“Nope, tonight we’re common folk. That cost the same as my beer, and I bet you’ll have just as much fun drinking it.”
He was right, I would have more fun, but not because of the wine. I’d have more fun because for the first time in a long time, I was in fun company.
We were sitting on the floor, eating tandoori chicken, onion and garlic pizza from the box. Having extra garlic wasn’t good enough for either of us, so it was just as well I ordered garlic pizza bread also.
We laughed at the messes we were getting in as melted, stringy cheese refused to be obedient, while we gawped at the TV watching Die Hard.
I almost choked on a chunk of chicken when I overheard Walker growling beside me, and caught him picking a fight with the stretching cheese. Finally snapping off, it dangled from his lips. Carefree, he eventually gave up on his vain attempt of working it into his mouth, and just sat there, glaring impatiently.
“Oh, my fucking, God, Walker; you look ridiculous,” I laughed around my food.
The slice landed with a thud as he tossed it into the box. Lifting the hanging cheese, he shoved it into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of beer. “You think that was funny, darlin’?”
I was too scared to answer in fear of what he would do to me. Not in a negative, purely fearful way, but in a nervous kind of way. I mirrored his action, placing my own half-eaten slice in the box, before taking a sip of cheap wine. “I’m not saying anyth––” My hand shot to my mouth as my statement was halted by an unintentional burp that I swore shook the walls of my house.
“Fucking, ay,” he clapped his hands seemingly impressed by my lack of manners, while I continued to gaze on in utter humiliation, my face flushing crimson. “Nice one, darlin’. I knew you had it in you somewhere.”
“Walker, I am so sorry. Excuse me. I have no idea where that came from.”
He released a throaty, sensuous chuck
le, his hand clamped down on my upper crossed knee. “Kady, you’re human. I bet you fart and all don’t ya?”
My eyes widened, my jaw dropped to the carpet. “Walker,” I whined. “That is no question to ask a lady.”
“Hey, come on, darlin’, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, so we’re even.” He grabbed his bottle of beer by the neck and guzzled down a few mouthfuls. Pulling it away, he held up his index finger and sucked in a breath and my house quaked with the intensity of his burp. “Now, that was a fucking belch. And you can’t say I’m disgusting, because you started it.”
That didn’t stop me.
“You’re disgusting,” I curled my upper lip, my eyes narrow. Before I knew what hit me, I shrieked and this amazing, heavy body was atop of me, tackling me into the luxuriously, thick beige carpet. “Walker, get off me,” I protested, endeavoring to sound stern, but my laughter wasn’t allowing any firmness to penetrate my demand.
Calloused hands snagged against the satin material, as his tortuous touch traveled to my ribs and began their tickling torment. “Not until you say, ‘I’m sorry, Walker, you are far from disgusting, you are truly amazing’.”
I rolled from side to side, pressing my arms as close as I could to my sides to bring an end to his torment. With my knees bent, I stomped my feet as laughter overtook.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “You’re not disgusting––”
Fingers in my ribs began to ease up. Instead, his large hand began to sensually caress the right side of my ribcage, and all reasoning flew out of the window. I sunk into the contact, a friendly touch that, to me, screamed sensuality. I had to fight with all the strength I harbored––which wasn’t much––to stop my hips from bucking and writhing, as half of his God-like form laid atop the span of my body.
With his left leg pressed between my thighs, the satin which screened me did nothing to help the situation, as it skimmed and stroked my frenzied flesh. Eyes bore into me, his breath a mixture of garlic, onion and beer, which would be a turn off for some, but considering we were both self-confessed garlic freaks, I didn’t care.