by Dee Palmer
“She was a conniving bitch, but I guess gold digger is a better way to speak of the dead.” He may be spot on but quickly tries to soften his acute assessment when I fall silent. ”Sorry, that was out of line.”
“We weren’t close. ” I say after a while. Even if he already knows this, it was worth repeating. Raleigh and I couldn’t have been more different and if we hadn’t shared the same womb, I would question whether she was my sister let alone my twin.
Her death was sudden, shocking, and left more than a scar or two. “She did do one good thing in her selfish life that I am grateful for. Because of that, I can forgive her for every other shitty thing she did.”
“I’d struggle to find one thing, so I’m going to take your word for that.” He turns off the main high street and crawls slowly over the speed bumps along my road. “You know she tried to fuck me at your cousin’s wedding?” he states. Although I didn’t know this particular incident, it really isn’t a surprise. “She cornered me in the Men’s washrooms of the hotel and told me she’d never tell. She was one crazy bitch.”
“She did have a thing for…my things.” I can feel the bile in my stomach swill. She took so much from me, but at least with this confession, I know she didn’t succeed in taking Joel. “Here we are.” I announce before I’m bombarded with memories I’ve spent a long time suppressing. He pulls the car to a slow stop in front of my small apartment building. “And I rent this place. You’ve seen my car. I can’t afford shit.”
“Can I come in for coffee?” He asks.
“It’s late, Joel.” I shake my head at the presumption I’d believe a line like that.
“That’s why I need a coffee, for the drive back,” he adds flatly, and I instantly feel like jerk for assuming something more was meant.
“Fine, but just coffee.”
“Would you just keep it in your pants for five minutes, Regan, of course just coffee.” He flashes me a look as if butter wouldn’t melt before he jumps from the car and walks around to open my door.
I roll my eyes and let out a chuckle. I’d forgotten what a gentleman he can be, and his grin is so damn adorable. That, I admonish myself, is the problem. Well, one of them.
My apartment is on the third floor, and with no lift, I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my pants on each and every step up to my door. His comment when we reach the top confirms my suspicion.
“God, you’ve got a great ass. I want to drag my tongue—” The door opens before I can get my key out, and I am super grateful for Bobbie’s timely interruption. I scowl at Joel and smile apologetically at Bobbie.
“I’m so sorry, Bobbie.” I give Bobbie a quick, tight hug, trying to ignore the fact that her jaw is dragging comically on my doormat. Her dark brown eyes are like saucers. Fortunately, at fifteen years of age, I know she’s safe from Joel, at least for a few years. It’s one of his absolute hard limits, which I found surprising, since the man has dubious morals when it comes to most sexual activities. From our brief relationship, I certainly felt nothing was off the table, and that included sleeping with my close friend and her mum at the same time just days after we broke up. “This is Joel, a colleague from work.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Bobbie, is it?” Joel offers his hand with effusive charm, and Bobbie’s smile couldn’t be any wider if she had a flip-top head. “And more than colleague, Regan. Tonight I was your knight in shining armour. Regan’s car was broken into—”
“I did explain that when I called, Joel.” I cut his boastful narrative short—like the man needs any more unsolicited adoration.
“You called? When?”
“I’m nearly three hours late. Of course I called. Jeeze, for a smart doctor, you can be a real dumbass.” I start to ease off my heavy winter overcoat and get stuck in the cuffs. The drastic change in temperature from outside to inside my apartment makes me suddenly too hot, claustrophobic even, as I struggle to get free. Joel yanks the coat from my arms in one swift jerk, and a sinful grin spreads wide and wicked across his face.
“See how quickly I can get you out of your clothes, Reggie.” He wiggles his brow, and where my jaw drops open with mortification, Bobbie slams hers shut, her hand holding back a fit of giggles.
“You want me to stay and help with…” She snickers, and I smirk and bask in the awkward silence when she fails to come up with any reason whatsoever to stay, other than to gawk at Joel.
“Help with…?” I suppress my amusement with a wry smile and decide to help the poor girl out when her light mocha skin pinks right up. “I’m good, thank you, Bobbie. Just going to make Joel a quick coffee and then I’m hitting the sack.”
“I don’t blame you.” She sighs and then looks horrified that she said that out loud. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” She rushes to backtrack, her cheeks a deeper shade of red, and her feet shuffling further out of the door. “I meant Ruby was so excited she’ll probably be awake any minute.”
“If it’s anything like last year.” I grimace at the thought of a 3 a.m. wake-up call.
She leans over to my ear and whispers, “You know I meant help with Ruby, right?”
“Yes, Bobbie, I know what you meant.” I laugh, and she exhales loudly with obvious relief.
“Oh, good. Well, bye, Regan, and Merry Christmas!” She gives an enthusiastic little wave. I hold my hand to halt her hasty escape.
“Merry Christmas! Bobbie, wait! Here, have this; your present was in the car, so take this token for now. I’ll get a replacement just as soon as.” I fish some notes from my purse and hand them to her. She starts to shake her head, but I force the three twenties into her curled up fist. It’s more money than I can afford, but she and her mother have been lifesavers on way too many occasions, and I know she’s trying to save to go to college.
I close the door and have to squeeze past Joel to get to my tiny kitchen. He fills the space, his broad shoulders nearly as wide as my narrow hallway, and I get a strange flutter in my tummy when he shucks his jacket and hangs it on the coat hook next to mine, like he’s done a hundred times before. He falls into step behind me, not that it takes more than two of his long strides before I come to a halt, and he is pressed against my back.
“Take a seat, and I’ll fix you that drink.”
“The drink, riiiiight.” His strong hands rest steady on my shoulders, confident and sure. His lips are on my neck, and damned if I’m not wishing I’d done some yoga stretches to give him better access. I lean enough, though. There’s no misunderstanding that I like what he’s doing. I let out a shameless sigh, and my hand flies to his hair, gripping tight in case he has the inclination to move away or worse, stop.
“Please stop, Joel.” I know exactly what I’m saying? I pinch my mouth shut and mentally calm myself as my heart rate rockets. I know this game. I’ve missed this game. Briefly torn between the devil and the deep blue sea, I know I shouldn’t go here again, but this feels so good, and when do I ever get to feel this good? When do I get to do something just for me for purely selfish reasons? Like surrendering to a sinfully sexy man who actually knows what he’s doing. I mean, apart from the other mind-blowing trysts today, the answer is a resounding never.
“No,” His deep gravelly voice rakes along my skin, just like the stubble on his chiselled jaw, as he peppers perfect kisses from my shoulder to just below my ear. His response is firm and final, yet he continues, and this is where this situation is so very different from when we were together. He’s checking that we’re on the same page, even though he must feel the need in me rolling off my wanton body is seismic waves. He coaxes. “Come on, Reggie, you know how good it is between us. Why deny that? I’ll even do that one thing you love.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down.” I sigh and whimper when his lips wrap my delicate lobe, and he sucks hard, his teeth hold the edge hostage when he speaks.
“Oh, wow, was that a compliment?” He releases the soft flesh and continues to bite, nibble and suck at every inch of exposed skin he can get to, t
ugging at the collar of my t-shirt over my shoulder to give himself more skin to devour.
“Don’t ruin it and let it go to that big head of yours.” I shiver when he chuckles, letting a wash of cool air skim my scorching skin.
“Never. I’m just a little stunned. I didn’t think I did anything good in your book.” He speaks against my skin; his lips tantalise with every word uttered.
“Oh, you do plenty of good things. They are just overshadowed by all the asshole things.” I mutter.
“A fair observation.” He bites down, searing pain and lust shoot a raging ball of molten heat and desire straight between my legs. I’m not sure how I’m managing to keep my voice so level when every part of me is quaking. Still, I’m sufficiently intrigued to ask.
“What one thing were you talking about?”
“I’ll tell you, if you tell what other things.”
“Now you’re just fishing for compliments. I may stroke your cock, but I’m not about to stroke you fucking ego. Your choice, Joel.” The chill that is about to settle over our interaction is incinerated when he doesn’t hesitate to tell me.
“I’ll choke you.”
“Oh, God.”
Nail on the head.
My knees actually wobble, and the heat pooling between my legs makes me squirm in my panty-less attempt to contain the trickle. This is the single most erotic thing he does, for me, at least. There’s a litany of things he does that make me come like a fucking train—the man has mad skills in the sack—and the last thing he needs is me to tell him what those are. He knows, of course he knows, still this one I don’t mind sharing because this one is the bomb.
It’s something you can only do with someone you completely trust, and as much as he is a class A asshole, I do trust him.
Seven years ago, he led me willingly to the kinky side, and I thrived and blossomed in the darkness with him. I’ve just not found anyone else hiding in there since Joel. The rare occasion I have let someone in my bed it’s been distinctly lacklustre and disappointingly vanilla. The one time I did feel comfortable with an ‘almost’ boyfriend, I mentioned… um, would he mind strangling me just a little, and he paled so much, I thought I would have to administer CPR.
“I love it when you call me that.” He scoops me into his arms, and all my reservations and sanity are left in a liquid puddle of desire on my kitchen floor. His lips are on mine before I can call him an egotistical ass. His tongue takes control of my mouth with erotic precision, twisting and diving deep, dominating and tangling with mine, demanding my compliance.
I point when he pauses in the small hallway. There are only three doors, and the bathroom has a frosted glass panel. Still, I’m glad he didn’t take a guess. No mood killer greater than a five-year-old hyped on Christmas spirit and refusing to go back to sleep. He pushes my bedroom door wide, just catching the edge before it slams into the wall. We both release a breath, and my wide eyes are enough of a warning that he has the grace to look sheepish when he mouths an apology.
“No need for apologies. Just know if we wake her, this ends with you hiding under my bed until her afternoon nap.”
“I’d kinda like to meet her.”
“This isn’t happy families, Joel. This is uncomplicated kinky-as-all-fuck sex, and don’t pretend you want it to be any different.”
“That’s what I like about you, Regan. You tell it like it is, yet have not a clue what you’re talking about.” He carefully places me on my feet, a dark frown masking his perfect features. His hazel gold eyes pierce mine, and even in the darkness, I can feel the intensity.
What the hell is he talking about?
Five Years Ago
“You need to tell him. This is his baby too, Regan.” Harper lifts a heap of the clothes I have piled on my bed to one side, creating enough room for her to sit beside me. Her pale blue eyes and nearly invisible blonde brows crinkle with genuine concern. Harper is everything I wish I could be: confident, carefree, and borderline genius. She’s stunning, too, long blonde hair and legs up to her armpits, curvy, and well, just drop-dead gorgeous. And if she wasn’t my best friend, I’d probably hate her. Maybe not hate exactly. I’m not sure I could hate anyone; even when my sister pushes me to my absolute limit, there’s still space for a smidgen of love, empathy, and compassion. It kind of goes hand in hand with my vocation; it’s in my DNA.
“A baby he categorically doesn’t want.” I sniff out a humourless laugh. I press my hand to my tummy when it surges with a roll of nausea. This isn’t a pregnancy symptom; this is a stupidity symptom.
“You don’t know that,” Harper coos in a soft tone lifted with a hint of her trademark optimism. She stroke-pats my hunched over body, her palm smoothing over my back as I curl into myself and try to rock away the feeling of impending doom.
“Actually I do.” I let out a puff of breath filled with hurt and inevitability. Straightening up, I swallow the pooling water in my mouth. She takes my hand in hers, and I explain. “The irony is strong like bull.” I try to add a little levity but it falls flat in my mouth and I tell the sorry tale straight. “The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. We had this very conversation last weekend. I mean we’d never actually spoken about kids at all before then, not even in a hypothetical way.”
“What triggered it now? Do you think he knows?” Her eyes widen to comical Disney princess proportions. I shake my head.
“No, no, not at all. Hell, I only found out on Saturday. There’s no way he could know. I don’t have a single symptom. I only took the test because I can set my watch to my period. Anyway, that is not the issue here. I told him my sister was pregnant. His response was instant, adamant, and heartbreakingly final but also…right.” Fat tears glaze my vision, but I blink them back. I don’t even feel this emotional, but my damn body is acting like a jilted prom queen. I stiffen the muscles in my body, hoping it will somehow help me to get through this without crumbling. That’s not me, that’s not what I do. I’m the sensible, realistic, surviving, matter of fact, and I can sort this shit, type.
Harper gasps. “Wait, what? Your sister has a boyfriend?” I raise my sardonic brow silently waiting for the realism to hit her. Her face scrunches with a knowing grimace. “Sorry, my bad.”
“Her new career plan was apparently to get some rich sucker to knock her up.”
“That has to be a first, that one of her plans actually worked,” Harper snarks.
“I did say the irony was strong here. Anyway, she’s pregnant and she intends screwing the guy for eighteen years of child support payments.”
“Who’s the lucky daddy?”
“She can’t be sure her target is actually the daddy so she’s going to wait until its born, then hit him with the paternity test.”
“Classy.”
“That’s Raleigh,” I scoff though it has absolutely no humour. I swallow the acrid taste her despicable behaviour leaves in my mouth. “It makes me physically ill that I’m related to her.”
“In blood, babe, and that’s where it ends.” She pulls me into a quick hug then pushes me back, holding my shoulders. “Can’t she can get the test done now?”
“She could but she wants to hit him with the visual, she says it will have a ‘better impact’” I air quote for the exact emphasis my sister used, although her vile grin was a little more sickening.
“Poor guy,” Harper’s face softens with empathy for this unknown, unsuspecting sucker.
“I didn’t think I could have less respect for her than I already do. If I had any other options to live somewhere else, I would. I can’t stand to be in the same room with her most of the time.”
“I wish you could share with me. Maybe when my lease is up, we can look into getting something bigger, together?”
“I certainly don’t want to be around for the big event, because I know exactly who will get left holding the baby. Raleigh doesn’t have a maternal bone in her painfully skinny body. I can’t believe she’s going to be a mother. I actually feel sick.” I
hold my hand to my mouth with the very real surge of bile rushing from my stomach to my mouth. I swallow back and pause, waiting for my body to settle. I wonder if this topic of conversation is causing these physical reactions of whether I’m experiencing my very first pregnancy symptoms. Harper interrupts my thoughts just as my hand absently rests over my tummy.
“But what has this got to do with you and Joel? He loves you, and you love him. It’s entirely different.”
“He’s never actually said that, Harper. He tells me I’m special all the time, but those three little words have not crossed his lips, even when I said them.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I told him I loved him two months ago and all he said was, ‘You’re so damn special to me, Reggie’.”
“Maybe he’s one of those guys that can’t or won’t ever say it, and what he said is his equivalent. Maybe it’s the same thing to him.”
“You believe that?”
“I don’t know him; you do. What do you believe?”
“I believe I am special to him, he cares, and I think he does love me, even if he can’t say it. What we have works for us. I’m happy.”
“Really? Do you regret telling him you love him?”
“No, not at all. I do love him, and I wanted him to know, feelings don’t always have to be expressed with words.”
“No they don’t.”
“I know my situation is different from Raleigh, but Joel’s reaction to the news left no room for misinterpretation.” My arms are now wrapped protectively around my waist.
“What did he say?”
“Well, we were on the same page about Raleigh being a low life, money-grabbing bitch, but he then said, if it was him, at this point in his life, he’d hope for sense to prevail. I asked what that meant, and he said that a termination is the only sensible option. He even gave all the points like he’d seriously considered them, each one, and not just off the top of his head. These were counterarguments he had ingrained deeper than some ad-hoc discussion: that we were in a new relationship; we barely knew each other, and that was no foundation to bring a new life into the world. That we were both still students and training, and it would be selfish for both our sakes and the foetus—”