Is he kidding?
“Are you kidding?”
The frown clears, swept away by savage need. In all my years, I’ve never seen the look in his eyes from any lover. Like I’m more than exquisite—like I’m worthy of worship.
One hand anchored behind my neck, the other disappearing between us, Leo kisses me. He kisses me until we are one taste and one breath. For all his hunger, he slides inside me slowly, breaking barriers of sensation I never knew existed.
Although he’s been inside me before, this time is different. So fucking different. There’s no frenzy, no overriding sense of illicitness. His hands capture my wrists over my head while his eyes stay on my face, studying every nuance of my shifting expressions. Every slow withdraw and smooth thrust breaks me open wider, pierces me deeper. I’ve never felt so utterly possessed or been more aware of my own femininity.
“You’re beautiful, Amelia. So fucking sexy. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Though his words veer dangerously close to my heart, I answer by locking my ankles behind his back. “Show me, Leo.”
He releases my wrists, hauling me against him with his arms locked tightly around me. Head lowered to my shoulder, his rhythm changes. Harder, deeper. Halfway to oblivion, I don’t even attempt to dampen my cries. No doubt I’ll be hearing from the neighbors tomorrow, but right now I don’t give a flying fuck.
“Oh, God, Leo, yes, right there, there!”
A cataclysmic event tingles in my fingers and toes, surges up my arms and legs, trembles in my chest, and finally coalesces where we join. I scream in bliss. Teeth clamp on my neck so hard I see stars, and the pleasure sharpens. Explodes.
He says my name and finds his own release. When he relaxes and kisses me softly, I start crying.
Sobbing, actually.
Leo rolls onto his side and holds me against his chest. He murmurs words I can’t hear, but I feel his heat, and the soothing touch of his hand making ceaseless journeys up and down my spine.
I finally assemble enough sanity to say, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says softly. “Do you feel sad or anxious right now?”
I shake my head, hiccupping. “I feel like your monster cock annihilated me.”
The hand on my back freezes. “My what?” Leaning back to see my face, Leo regards me with wide eyes and an open mouth. “Did you say monster cock?”
I bite my lip and nod. “Sure did.”
He laughs—a deep belly laugh I’ve never heard before—then kisses the tears from my cheeks. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“Fine. Totally fine. Better than fine. I can’t see straight, though. Hey, what happened to your glasses?”
Still chuckling, he says, “I got LASIK last month.”
“Ah, that explains it.” Yawning, I curl contently into his heat. In my last moments of consciousness, I say, “Wake me up in twenty. I want more.”
A soft kiss presses to my forehead. “Sleep, Amelia.”
I do.
When I wake up, the sun shines through my filmy curtains, glowing brightly on my empty bed. I hold back panic long enough to sit up and see my phone plugged in on the nightstand. Definitely not where I left it last night.
Sure enough, the first notification is for three new text messages from Leo, all sent between five thirty and six thirty this morning.
LEO: Had every intention of waking you in twenty but fell asleep. Woke up at four with a giant cat sitting on my chest. Might have shaved a few years off my life. Warning next time?
LEO: So you know, I wasn’t trying to sneak out. You must sleep like the dead because I knocked into at least five pieces of furniture trying to find my clothes, keys, etc.
LEO: What are you doing tonight?
I read the messages over and over, a stupid grin on my face, then text him back. His instantaneous response tells me he was waiting for it. Maybe worried I might not reply.
Silly man.
MIA: Working until nine. After…?
LEO: Good morning! Forgot to mention I found an interesting note on your front door from your neighbors. Turns out you have thin walls. Want to come to my place tonight?
36
consequences
Work flies by in one of those dreamy streaks that happen when your mind is occupied by rainbows and unicorns—and sexy, smart men with monster cocks. I can’t stop smiling. My coworkers tease me, my customers leave awesome tips, and when I leave for the day I all but sprint to my apartment.
As I’m staring at a half-full, battered backpack and wondering if Leo expects me to stay the night, my phone vibrates with a call.
“Hey, Kins,” I chirp.
“Hey,” she says morosely.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to confess something I did that I feel really bad about.”
I bite my lips on a smile, knowing exactly what she’s going to apologize for. “Oh?” I ask noncommittally.
“Yeah, um… remember how I told you not to leave the Halloween party before midnight? Well, see, it was because—”
I can’t take it anymore and laugh. “You knew Leo might show up late. It’s okay.”
“OhmyGod, I’ve been freaking out, worried that something shitty happened and it was all my fault. I saw him talking to you, but then he left by himself, and you went home alone, and—”
“I’m going over to his place tonight.”
“What?” she screeches. “Spill. Now.”
I fill her in on everything that’s happened since Halloween, then wait for her blubbering excitement. It doesn’t come; instead, she’s uncharacteristically quiet.
“Kinsey?”
“I’m here.” She pauses, then sighs. “Are you sure this is okay? A sex-only relationship? I mean, it is Leo Chastain we’re talking about. You’re pretty much in love with him.”
I laugh uneasily. “It’s just sex, Kins. I’m not in love with him. I barely know him.”
Another pause. “I don’t believe you. You guys have way more than just a physical connection.”
I don’t really believe me, either.
“I’m aware of the risk,” I tell her soberly. “I know he might break my heart. But I can’t… I don’t want to stop. I want him. Want to be around him for however long he wants me. I can’t explain it, really, but I don’t feel like I used to—like he’s just a means to an end, someone I can use. He’s… different. I’m different.”
“Shit,” she groans. “Okay, Mia. I love you and support you no matter what. Just… please be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know. Love you too. I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“You’d better.”
Ending the call, I sit listlessly beside my backpack. Kinsey didn’t say anything I don’t already know, even if I’ve tucked the truth away in a tiny, locked box in my head. As much as I tell myself I don’t have feelings for Leo, that my attachment is merely a byproduct of the pseudo-intimacy of our many sessions at Oasis, I know it’s not that simple.
This time when I fall, there will be no parachute. Nothing but wind between me and the ground.
So be it.
Leo’s house isn’t what I expected. When the Uber drops me off outside, I double-check my phone to make sure I have the right address.
I always imagined him in some high-rise condo or a modern masterpiece of glass, wood, and clean lines. Instead, he lives in Echo Park on a quaint street with kids bikes leaning on front porches, small but lovingly tended yards, and sidewalks shadowed by big trees.
The bones of the house in front of me give the impression they’ve been standing for a century or so but have the immaculate polish of an extensive remodel. Half of the yard is grass, the other half full of overflowing garden beds. There’s a picket fence, for God’s sake. Not white, but still, a picket fence.
I walk up the path to the front porch, battling a full-blown case of what-the-hell-am-I-doing-heres. Two bikes rest against the vine
-covered lattice beneath the porch, one man-sized and one kid-sized. A forgotten baseball bat lies in the grass, along with a worn baseball and a sun-faded nerf gun.
I make it up the steps onto the porch and pause to catch my breath. I’m winded. Why the fuck am I winded?
I’m only about 30 percent recovered when the front door opens, spilling light and soft music. I jerk upright and plaster on a smile I hope doesn’t look like a crazy person’s.
“Hi,” I wheeze.
Leo smirks, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. He’s in business slacks and a white shirt sans tie, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A kitchen towel drapes over one shoulder, and his hair is styled, boasting the familiar razor-sharp part. That, of all things, is what calms me down.
“Did you walk here?” he deadpans, noting my flushed face and erratic breathing.
I push a few stray hairs from my face. “Can I lie to you?”
His smile grows. “Go for it.”
“Yes, I walked. Needed some exercise.”
He bites his lower lip, glancing behind me. “It’s a strenuous trip from the curb up to the porch, huh?”
I nod. “Basically an Iron Man competition.”
A smile blooms, crinkling his eyes. “Come here, Amelia.”
“Okay,” I whisper, not moving.
So he comes to me, smile softening as he takes the straps of my backpack and pulls it off, then captures my hand in his.
“I still make you nervous,” he says mildly as he escorts me into the house. I barely notice my surroundings other than pale walls and reclaimed wood floors. His hand is hot, like a small sun on my clammy palm.
“No. I mean, yes. I wasn’t expecting…” I trail off, staring into a beautiful living room with comfy couches, a low coffee table littered with various toys and man-clutter, fireplace, and big flat-screen TV.
“You thought I lived in a sterile box, didn’t you?”
My gaze jerks to his face and wry expression. “Maybe.”
He chuckles, dropping my backpack inside the front door. “Are you hungry? I got home late tonight and just cooked dinner. There’s enough for two.”
My stomach is in knots, but I nod. “I could eat, sure.”
His fingers squeeze mine then release. “I was just about to throw pasta in some water. Is meat sauce okay? I can’t remember if you’re a vegetarian.”
Stop being so perfect, asshole. I can’t handle it.
“I’m not. That sounds great. I love pasta and meat. Me and meat and pasta go way back.”
Fuckitty-fuck, Mia. My eyes roll upward, hoping to manifest a lightning bolt to strike me down and end it all.
Leo’s hands cupping my face jolt me into the moment. His bright blue eyes are mere inches from mine. I wonder how I ever thought they were icy. There’s nothing remotely cold in them now.
“Hey,” he whispers.
I release a shuddering breath. “Hi. Sorry for the freak-out.”
“No need to apologize. I don’t want you to pretend with me. I want to know what you’re thinking and feeling. Full disclosure here, okay?”
Not gonna happen, buddy.
I nod. “Sure.”
His lips touch mine lightly, coaxing them to part. I surrender and sag against him, tension unraveling from my body as his tongue finds mine. The kiss is dizzying, his touch and heat permeating my senses.
I palm him through his slacks, delighting in his grunt. “I’m turning the stove off,” he growls against my mouth. “We can order food later.”
This I know.
This I want.
This I can handle.
37
acceleration
We miss the window for food delivery and end up making the pasta and reheating sauce at one in the morning. Then we stumble upstairs and embrace carb-comas until Leo’s alarm goes off at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m.
Gently removing his arm from beneath my head, he disappears into the bathroom. The shower comes on a minute later. I wiggle into the strip of heat left by his body and drift between sleep and waking until the water shuts off. Then I haul myself from bed in the hazy dawn light to rifle through my backpack for clean clothes.
I’m sitting on the bed, a sleep-deprived zombie with bedhead, when Leo reappears. He smirks at me as he deftly buttons his charcoal dress shirt.
I scowl back. “How do you look so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? It’s not natural. I feel bulldozed.”
“Practice,” he drawls and drops a kiss on my head before moving to a nearby dresser. He smells unbelievably good. Me? Not so much.
I flop back onto the bed and stretch my arms, wincing at how sore I am in places with no business being sore. Returning from the dresser, Leo sits near my hip to put on socks. I memorize his handsome, relaxed profile, the flex of muscles in his back, the thick wrists and strong, talented hands. Even the muted swish of his shirt as he moves is music to me.
My chest feels unaccountably warm. Domestic bliss is so real.
He pivots, finding me watching him. “I’m glad you stayed the night,” he says softly.
“Me too. Your bed is topnotch.”
He grins. “So that’s why you stayed. I knew it.”
I suppress a smile. “You make a pretty good pillow, too.”
He snorts and reaches for his tie. Sensing the end of our time together nearing, I stand and try to tame the rat’s nest on my head, then slip into my shoes and repack my backpack. When I’m finished, I wait awkwardly near the bed as he puts on his tie before a mirror.
“So, um…” I clear the frog from my throat. “That is…”
Dancing eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Just say it,” he says.
“AmIgoingtoseeyouagain?”
Leo abandons his half-done tie and crosses to me. He’s trying hard not to laugh. Reaching up, he gently tugs a rogue strand of pink hair. “You are hands down the most adorable, funny woman I’ve ever met.”
“Pfft. Of course I am.”
He kisses me hard, then steps back. Suddenly serious, he asks, “Do you want to see me again?”
Flippancy escapes me. “Yes.”
Do I catch relief in his eyes? I’m not sure, but his smile wakes up parts of me that really need a day off.
“How about Friday night?” he asks, eyes back on the mirror and his tie. “We can get dinner?”
I almost choke on euphoria. “At a restaurant?”
He freezes. “I was thinking I could cook for you here.”
Ah.
I shove down a surge of disappointment and smile. Thankfully, Leo doesn’t look at me until I’ve manufactured a genuine one. “That sounds great. What time?”
Tie finished, he sweeps a suit jacket off a hanger and shrugs it on. “I’ll have to get back to you. I can’t remember what time my last appointment is. Are you working?”
I nod. “But only until three.”
“Perfect. Are you ready? I can drop you off on my way to the office.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I can call—”
“Amelia.”
I scoff. “That tone doesn’t work on me anymore.”
He stares at me. Patient. Expectant. So freaking handsome. I buckle with a groan.
“Fine, fine. But it’s not because you used the voice. I do what I want.”
He laughs.
Wednesday and Thursday crawl by. I go through the motions. Surf. Work. Grab drinks with my coworker Trish on Wednesday night, have dinner with Dad and Jessica Thursday. Do my nightly journaling. Feed Ferdi. Take long, restless walks. I almost call Dr. Wilson to beg for an emergency appointment, but lean hard on my friends instead.
Thank God for them, otherwise I’d have no clue how to navigate what’s happening between Leo and me. My newer friends are rightly mystified by my lack of so-called dating technique. I try to tell them we’re not dating, but they say sex dates count as dates, at least in the context of how to avoid coming off clingy. I’m not supposed to send text messages like I miss you or the dreaded, Do you mi
ss me, too? and I can’t call him to ask about his day. Also according to them, I’m like a thirteen-year-old girl with her first crush. They have no idea how right they are.
Kinsey and Nix, on the other hand, know the ugly truth. I’ve never—in my entire life—been my authentic self in a relationship, and the consequence is I’m totally out of my depth. Even during the best times with Kevin, I was aware of playing a role. Acting or looking a certain way. Almost like there was a constant spotlight on me, judging my every flaw.
With Leo, it’s a moot point. He is the spotlight. He sees through my pathetic attempts to act like someone else, someone I think he wants. He demands the raw, unfiltered me.
I don’t think he understands the cost. I’m falling, and the only question is when I’ll meet the ground.
Friday is an unexpected day off. Trish has a concert she wants to go to next week and asked if I’d swap. I spend most of the morning in bed. And not because I love sleeping, which I do. I woke up paralyzed with fear that Leo plans to cancel tonight.
I’ve only heard from him once in the last two days. A short text that said he’ll be home by five tonight. When I replied that I’d see him around five thirty, his response wasn’t even a word. Just a letter.
K.
I eventually make coffee and shower, hoping the routine will alleviate the fog in my head. It doesn’t. By mid-afternoon, I’ve cleaned my apartment top to bottom and done three loads of laundry. Still nothing from Leo, but I can’t shake the sense of impending doom.
I call Callum and luck out, catching him between shoots.
“Goldie!”
“I’m losing my mind.”
He laughs. “Again?”
“Not funny,” I gripe. “I’m seeing Leo tonight.”
He whistles. “Third sleepover, huh? Has he manned up yet?”
Callum, like Kinsey, thinks Leo is an ass for refusing to officially date me. Or be seen with me in public. Or text or call between sexcapades.
The Fall Before Flight Page 17