Fire In The Water

by Janice Ross

  "What does that mean?"

  "You're the most complex woman I've ever met." He placed the bottle to his lips and gulped down damn near half of it. "Every time I come in contact with you, I need to regroup when you disappear. I question my manhood, my appearance, my confidence...every move I've ever made around you."

  "Why?" My throat got swollen.

  "Do you need to revisit every time we've met? We have these awesome moments only for you to run off. And every time you run off, you hijack a piece of me."

  "I never meant to, Rhys."

  He bobbed up and down. "So, can we try to move ahead? To spend time getting to know each other?

  "Maybe."

  "Just maybe?" He no longer reclined in the chair. His forearms pressed along his thighs as if he'd rise to his feet at any moment. As for those gorgeous features, Rhys's brows, especially the left one, furrowed higher at one side while he wore a devilish smirk.

  "Rhys, you're in my place," I reminded just above a gravelly whisper.

  "I see what you mean. At least you can't just take off like last night."

  Thinking back to the previous night and the way our bodies had engaged wasn't helping my cause. My mind couldn't even reason through it in a sensible manner. But then he stood and stalked over to the love seat I'd flopped down on.

  Brutus ran to Rhys's feet, barking and panting nonstop. For my part, I reached for him to no avail. That was the least of my worries because Rhys had taken ahold of my shoulders and was bringing me to my feet.

  "Why do you keep running away from me?" he demanded, now positioned in my space. Every emotion rode over me, from uncertainty to lust. I wanted to move away and stand still at once. I even tried to command myself to turn away from his wanton gaze. Like a fool, my body shut down, refused to listen to logic.

  "How about we don't answer that question, huh?" My reply came as a whisper. If I wanted to, I could be snarky, mysterious and in the face, though my method was a bit low keyed.

  He didn't feed into it, or might not have heard what I'd said.

  With the exception of Mal's overzealous beast at our feet and the brutal thudding extending from my chest, the house was dead silent. And before I could turn or even plot to add more than a foot of distance between us, Rhys's palms encased the sides of my face. His lips just touched my forehead, releasing a slew of electricity. I found my fingers entangled in his thick, chocolate brown hair feeling greedy, wanton, unlike the Chanel I'd come to be. I pulled him forward and down onto me. Our lips touched, followed by our tongues' forceful dance. Heavy mumbles escaped his mouth, but I caught them with mine and took in his heat. His breath was capable of reaching my core, blazing my limbs, and robbing my past of all that had never manifested. He captured my lust, claiming it for himself.

  Rhys's hands somehow found a path to my backside and he picked me up from the ground. My legs hung straight down, simply dangling. I could only imagine how odd my movements must've appeared. Yet Rhys' palms slid down between my legs. By this point, he'd backed me into the entryway wall. When my back touched against it, he gripped my thighs. Everywhere he connected with, every touch, no matter how delicate, had the capability to break me down.

  For my part, I fed him desperate kisses from an innocent girl, woman even. I enjoyed the thrusts of his demanding tongue and tried to control the fire he ignited, but Rhys had easily put me under manners. All I could do was follow his lead and pray that my attempts were enough to keep him satisfied. While I fought to live up to this ideal of how things should be, there was no use in fronting. My nipples filled out so much that they had begun rubbing the inside fiber of my tee. Between my legs, an outpouring of moisture flooded a pair of peach thongs right where I'd been grinding against the bulge in his crotch.

  "Ummmm," I cried out. Tears filed down my face while I fought to pull him closer, deeper into me. I needed this, this newness.

  His sounds mimicked mine just before he asked, "Where's your room?"

  I didn't initially piece together the words, so I paused. My fingers maintained their grip. I gasped for air. My knuckles throbbed. Throwing my head back further, I was drawn to his eyes. They dared me to run away and warned me to stay where I was, unless he gave me permission to move.

  "Are you okay?" Rhys asked. His words were slightly labored.

  I nodded about three short nudges then allowed my eyes to close. He gripped me all the same, assaulting my space with his rich cologne. We held on, perhaps hoping to get back to the previous minute when we'd gotten lost. It was new to me.

  No. No.

  I shook my head while I continued to enjoy the passion. What was I doing? How could I forget? Why did I forget myself?

  "I can't do this," I pleaded, resting my head just underneath his throat but pulling away the minute his stronger scent flooded my mind.

  "What's wrong, Chanel?" He kept me pinned to the wall. My words were contradicting my current place, being pressed into him.

  How could I tell him that I'd made a mistake? We were right there, preparing to cross the line–a line that not even my soulmate had journeyed. This type of desire was dangerous. But beyond that, I wasn't prepared to be with another guy. I couldn't be.

  "I'm still..." I trailed off, allowing my head to drift away from him. My eyes bore clear across the room to a picture, the bane of my decision. Mallory and her guy at the time, along with Zachary and me.

  "Still?" His arms contracted as he set me onto the floor, but not before leaning toward me. He shifted my face to his and placed a light tap at the tip of my nose.

  The burning of hurt, loss, and even my present situation made me cry. I felt wrong for wanting this, for desiring Rhys in this way. However, Zach's memory, our love, was more than passion. I couldn't, or simply wouldn't throw away our memory for my selfish lust.

  "Maybe you should leave," I said in a dry tone. Taking swift steps to the picture, I forced myself to put distance between us. I made myself look to the past and remain there.

  XXVIII.

  Rhys

  ~

  I followed her gaze to the far end of the room. Chanel's head tossed left and right. She sniffled and sighed the entire time.

  From this distance, I couldn't quite make out what was capable of taking her away from me.

  "Chanel..."

  "Please go," she replied just above a whisper.

  "Chanel."

  This time she didn't try to be gentle. "Please go, Rhys." She shifted partway, just enough for me to see the moisture along the left side of her face. "Please," she begged louder than before.

  Make no mistake, Rhys Colburn had never and would never beg for a chick's attention. Sure, I understood Chanel might’ve had some personal shit going on, but I now believed I've done my part. The least she could do was provide some explanation. And if this happened to be a case of her pining over another dude, then to hell with them.

  I shot out of her place the minute I built up the rage, the frustration from being flat out rejected. This girl was asking for too much. My present feelings didn't diminish the fact that I was attracted to her. I just wasn't about to get yanked around.

  Between the pounding in my head to match the beat from down in my boxers, I needed to take a moment to regroup, so I stood out on the sidewalk, pacing my breathing. My mind raced from how desperate she'd seemed, clinging to me like I contained the key to life.

  Shit!

  My veins pumped. The damn temperature felt like the dead of summer. I did the natural thing for me, took off running. I kept going, even right through the red lights and crowds. Nothing could screw up a guy's head like rejection, but to get that far, almost to the point of solidifying things...

  Without any form of music to help the process along since I'd only set out to take a walk, my erratic jogging only caused me to be that much more frustrated.

  I had a mind to turn around and set Chanel straight, but that had never been my M.O. I should've known the day would've been shitty when my mom had first called.
>
  I made it home in under twenty minutes and didn't stop running until I reached my bedroom door.

  "Okay?" Prissy, my apparent stalker, appeared. The first thing I noticed was the gigantic towel on her head, then the brightest eyes. My gaze then dropped to her shoulders and the glisten of moisture that remained from her shower. She wore the tiniest purple towel around her curves, almost seemed like she was waiting for me.

  I reached out, wrapping my fingers on the front that had been tucked in. Prissy didn't budge when I pulled her close. In fact, she effortlessly followed my lead. I stepped backwards, unraveling the already loose towel. By the time we crossed over my threshold, Prissy's body was fully exposed.

  I kicked the door closed, then as a second thought turned the lock. Prissy yanked at the towel holding her hair in place, shaking her head and sending drops of water all around us. I took her fingers, leading her to the edge of the dresser.

  Her breasts almost bounced in slow motion. I pounced on them as an animal stalking claim on its prey. My left hand squeezed and milked the left as my right squeezed the hell out of the other. I needed to more than have her, more than claim her. Prissy wasn't vulnerable, she wasn't shy, and she damn sure didn't try to get away from what her body was shooting out. She spouted sex, and I made up my mind to capture it. There wasn't a damn thing wrong with me. This chick right before me gave that fire, and I made the decision to allow it to consume me.

  As I prepared to capture the tips of her breasts between my lips, I pulled back. Whenever I got pissed off, someone happened to be there to step in. Before today, I'd never considered getting physical with Prissy. As appealing as she'd been, I never wanted to screw her. It was the same with Jen and my accident. Perhaps others over the years. And sadly, none of them made the pain dissipate. They were cheap distractions of the woman I really wanted.

  "Ahhh..." she cried. Her fingers trailed along my scalp, yanking on my hair.

  I loosened my fingers and just that easily let go. Walked away. Her panting grew insistent, though I wouldn't turn around. "I'm sorry, Prissy."

  "Rhys, what's wrong?"

  "This isn't fair to you, Prissy. I don't want this any more than you need this."

  "I need this, Rhys."

  "Pull your towel on. Get dressed."

  "What if I don't want to?"

  I turned to see her in the same position. She wore absolutely nothing more than pouted lips. "Let me make this clear. I don't want to again."

  ""Oh ..." Quickly standing up, she stooped down to pick the towel up from the floor. "You're an asshole," she mumbled.

  "For this, probably. I'm sorry." I truly was. As for me being an asshole, I can accept that. "Give me time to unwind, but I want to talk to you. Just need a friend, Prissy."

  She remained silent, threw a darted stare my way, and wrapped her fingers onto the doorknob. I grabbed at her other elbow.

  "Please, let’s grab a bite and talk."

  Prissy nodded.

  We were roommates. I'd allowed us to drift into something uncomfortable. I had to smooth things over because I'd already promised they could all stay in my house until they were set otherwise. If I didn't take the time to fix it now, shit would explode. Moreover, I couldn't very well be in pursuit of Chanel and leave anything on the table for Prissy.

  I was man enough to own up to my screw ups. Not entirely sure of what this would mean to Prissy, I still couldn't help but think about Chanel. I closed my eyes and replayed the scene at her place for another couple of minutes. Instead of wanting to get back at Chanel for turning me away, I would embrace the memories.

  XXIX.

  Chanel

  ~

  I lost track of time while sitting around and cradling the picture of Zachary. I hadn't left the room or gotten anything to eat. Instead, my legs were crossed while Brutus rolled around on my lap. We were spread out on the hardwood floor, slightly cradled by several oversized, square purple and pink floor pillows. He'd tip his head up from time to time, acknowledging my despair. He'd even offer up a growl here and there. Made me wonder if he understood what my life had become. But when a key sounded in the door, he shot up. I tried, though my legs hadn't quite gotten the message, to hold firm.

  "Hey boy," Mal screeched. " I missed you too. Yes, Mommy missed you."

  I passed my backhand across my cheeks, then included a swipe of my cotton tee in time for Mal to appear.

  "You okay, Chanel?"

  I raised my head with a nod upwards, lowering it just as my eyes started burning.

  "Aww babe," Mal stepped forward and ducked, her hair flopped to her forehead. She knelt by my side. Her black slacks were a bit tight. "We can't keep this up, Chanel."

  My vision was just about nonexistent as I tried to study her face. She'd started gnawing at her lips, puffing through a slither along the side of her mouth. Her eye lids further fell.

  "I'm good, Mal."

  "I'm not tryna be a bitch or anything, Chanel, but you are your own worst enemy. You torture yourself with all things Zachary. You realize that your life is dedicated to keeping his memory alive, right?" Her voice creaked while a free hand rested against her chest. She made two hollow thumps. "We all loved him. Shit, we all miss him, but we're still here. I have to pause before I enter the front door or a room you're in."

  "Mal–"

  "No, let me finish. I keep tiptoeing around this issue, pampering you. You're hurt, yes, we understand–"

  "We?"

  "Yes, we."

  The whole darn place seemed to darken, forcing me to cower. I was like a toddler under scrutiny. I squeezed my eyes shut, preferring the darkness to this abuse. I hadn't planned on discussing Zach with Mal. Not today. I actually wanted to tell her about Rhys.

  "Mallory!" I screamed with such force that Brutus scurried from the room. He whimpered, rather than barked. I shook my head, wanting to follow but instead stood up to confront Mal. "There's so much going through my mind." Her lips started to part as if she would speak. I raised a finger. "Let me get this out."

  I stalked over to the couch, exhaling as I threw myself down. I landed in a thud, though perfectly fine. Mal followed, claiming the opposite end and folding her arms.

  "I met a guy," I blurted out, not knowing how to ease into otherwise. "Long story for another time."

  Mal's eyebrows raised. An untamed smirk spread over her face. The anger, the frustration from mere seconds ago fled. She appeared ready to rejoice.

  "I saw him the night we went out, then again today."

  "Oh yes, at the bar. So why the trip down memory lane?"

  I shrugged, thinking back to how I'd abandoned foreplay with Rhys. He'd eagerly given me what Zach always withheld. But I loved Zach. Rhys’ attraction was more difficult to streamline. I wanted him. Wanted to know what it felt like to be taken and possessed by a man with so much passion.

  "Mal, I was standing here. Heck, we were all over each other!" I covered my eyes, mouth and cheeks. "He kissed me, or maybe I was the one that kissed him. Either way, we got all over each other."

  Mal's dark brown eyes sparkled. Her lips flashed wide as just about every single tooth in her mouth displayed. She slid down to the edge of her seat, practically salivating over the first bit of smut I've had to offer in two years. Actually, this scoop was a tad bit deeper than my interludes with Zachary. I had to admit, it was troubling that Mallory seemed too eager for me to move on, although she knew nothing about Rhys. I know it was nothing personal, but I was still bothered all the same.

  "Wait. Wait..." Mal held up her hands before asking, "What's his name?"

  "Rhys," I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear it. I felt ashamed, tilted my head in the direction of our picture from the summer Zach got...

  Zach was supposed to be with us. He should still be alive, alive with a future and hopes and dreams. He should still have the choice of things instead of the one option he was forced into–death. Here I was, contemplating a future without Zach. Although he was gone, I coul
dn't help but feel guilty for being able to hope again.

  "C'mon girl, get on with it!"

  I pumped my head up and down, swiped at my eyes and smiled.

  "Okay Chanel, tell me about Rhys. And don't hold back." She crossed her legs, motioned for Brutus to climb on her lap and shifted her every fiber in my direction.

  I exhaled then stood up. Stalking toward the picture on the mantel, I flipped it down. Once back on the seat, I adjusted myself to face Mallory and Brutus's overzealous stares.

  "So, Rhys ..."

  XXX.

  Chanel

  ~

  Mal was even more excited about Rhys than I was. I was intrigued enough to stop running from him. Not that I wanted to jump into a relationship or have sex or anything like that. At this stage, I wouldn't mind having a guy friend to relax with from time to time. That was what mattered the most. I did regret not getting his number amongst other things.

  "Let's get something to eat. I'm not feeling home today." Mal never felt like being at home. It was the same when we were growing up. Her parents would always complain about being a bit too social and outgoing and always being out and about.

  "What about your brat?" Brutus snuck back in, whining like he understood our discussion. He took my side by snuggling on my leg.

  "He'll get out when I take him home."

  With that newest revelation, he sprinted away from both of us.

  "He's all yours, Mal. No one can tell me pets don't take on their owners' personalities." I got up to prepare for the road again. As I passed through the threshold, I couldn't resist the tingle on my lips. I touched them just where Rhys' tongue had caressed. I had to bite my lips shut to keep from moaning.

  "You're not having second thoughts, right." Mal wasn't asking the question. She was telling me, seriously insisting that I couldn't go back on my word.

  "Nah, I'm kinda glad to get out of the house too."

  Within ten minutes, we headed out. Choosing to walk instead of drive, the sun almost seemed misplaced. It was bright, though not too warm. Mal started rambling on about some local artists she’d interviewed earlier, but my mind was so far away from here. Actually, I was stuck back in time by a few hours to be exact.