by Q. T. Ruby
My dad clasped Will’s shoulder. “Are you all right, son?”
Will leaned over, his hands on his knees. He shook his head.
We all froze. The worst ran through my mind.
Mark’s been in an accident.
He’s hurt.
He’s dead!
My heart jackhammered a hole in my chest. “Oh my God, is Mark okay?” I asked.
Will took another breath and straightened up. He looked me in the eye. “I went to pick him up . . . and he didn’t answer the door . . . so I let myself in with the key from under the mat . . . and found this on the kitchen table.”
He handed me a folded piece of notebook paper with my name scrawled on the outside. By the look on Will’s face, I knew he’d already read it. I flipped it open.
I can’t do this. I’m sorry. ~ Mark
I blinked at Will and then at the paper a few times, trying to wrap my brain around this. For a moment, I wondered if this was some kind of horribly vivid nightmare, except the pain that gripped my chest tied me firmly to reality.
No.
No, no . . .
I couldn’t breathe. I blinked harder, trying to wake up. Wake up! Surely being left at the altar was just an urban legend, not a real thing, not really happening.
What?
Why?
What happened? I was ready to commit . . . he was ready to commit . . . just last night. What happened to being his wife? What happened to forever? Anger, crushing grief, and humiliation flooded me. Who knew that six words could pack such a devastating blow?
My father, Will, Camille, and Bridget stared at me, waiting for me to say something—anything. I shook my head. The soundless minutes ticked by.
My father turned to Will and snapped, “What is going on here?”
Will backed away, holding up his palms.
Hearing the rumble of loud voices, my brothers joined us.
“What’s going on?” asked my oldest brother, John.
Camille relayed the events as I stood listening to her. Who was she talking about? And then I glanced down at my white dress, all sparkly and new, and realized it was me and . . . this was real.
But I played by the rules! I should have won! That was the deal!
Questions were fired my way, but I couldn’t speak; there was only heart-shattering confusion.
Finally, when many voices blurred into white noise, I tapped Camille’s shoulder. “Get me out of here.” Without another word, Camille grabbed my hand and the keys to her car and drove my mangled heart and me far, far away.
“Claire?”
I shake my head, trying to clear the memory. “He . . . left me on our wedding day.” Why does it still hurt to say?
Dan shakes his head like he’s heard me wrong then realizes he didn’t. His eyes widen. “What? Why would he do that?”
I stare at the photo of the heartbreaker. “Well, the short story is that he fell in love with someone I thought was a friend. They were secretly together for about six months before our wedding. I guess he couldn’t commit to me when he felt that way about someone else . . . her.” I point her out in a group photo in the collage and then turn to sit on the edge of my bed, trying to shake the sick that rumbles deep inside.
Dan stares at the photo a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “All right. Two questions—why do you still have these photos, and why would he leave you for her?”
I sigh softly. “Honestly, I only kept the photo that’s got her in it because it was the only group shot I had of my sorority together and . . . I thought I got rid of the other one.” I can’t believe I forgot about it. “I guess he was happier with her than with me.”
I focus on my bare toes. I’m waiting to hear the door click shut behind him because who wants to deal with that kind of baggage? But instead, the bed shifts as he sits beside me. I feel his eyes on me.
“I don’t know what that guy was thinking. She’s a six to your ten. He couldn’t be a bigger arsehole.”
I chuckle, relief and nerves in equal measure jittering inside my belly. I focus on my fingers twisting in my lap. “Thank you . . . but looks aren’t everything.”
“True, but there’s much more to you than good looks.”
“That’s very nice of you, but—” I look up to see him rub the back of his neck.
“No, I’m serious. You have . . . quite a lot in your favor.”
The shift in mood is a far cry from earlier when our heavy flirtation played openly around the pool table.
I nod. “Thank you for being so sweet.”
We’re quiet for another moment. What can I say? I’m irreparable? I was a naïve fool? I’m a reject? I wasn’t enough for him, so how could I ever be enough for someone else, especially a freaking movie star?
Just when the desperate thoughts begin to pull me under, Dan says, “I hope your brothers found him.” He nudges me playfully with his shoulder.
I peek up at him, and I can’t help but return the crooked smile he’s aiming at me. “They’re still hunting.”
He laughs quietly. “Your parents must have been quite angry.”
I tilt my head and sigh. “Well, that’s a whole other story, and I think I’ve tortured you enough tonight.”
He nods. “Fair enough. So . . . when might I see you again?”
See me again? With a cautiously optimistic smile, I say, “You’re the one flying across the country. You tell me.”
“Well, I leave for L.A. after some meetings tomorrow, and my schedule is insane this week, but I believe I have a couple of days off at some point coming up in the next couple of weeks. I forget the exact dates. Anyway, maybe we’ll see each other then?”
“But you’ll be in L.A.”
“It’s not that far by plane.”
I shake my head. “I can’t call out of work.” I won’t blow off work to take a trip. Not for a guy. I’m smarter than that.
He nods. “Maybe I’ll fly back, then.”
My heart launches into my throat. “You’d fly back to see me? You must have a million girls at your disposal on the West Coast.” I’m teasing—sort of.
“True . . . but I’m running out.”
I laugh, enjoying how quickly he can make me laugh. “Oh, so I guess it’s time to move on to the East Coast women?”
He peers down at me through his long lashes, his full lips tugged up on one side. “Or woman.”
My heart flips and flops in my throat, but I won’t let myself buy it. “Woman, huh?”
He rolls his eyes. “Claire, really, how many women’s bedrooms do you think I just hang around in?”
I raise a “do you really want an answer?” eyebrow.
He shakes his head and chuckles. “For your information, if I was merely here for one thing, I’d have had you undressed long ago.”
I raise my eyebrows, smiling. “You think so, huh?”
“Yes, I do. I’m just . . . too polite.”
“Too polite?” I nearly bust out laughing.
“Or maybe I’m just an idiot.”
We both burst into laughter, releasing the tension in the room, and that’s when our eyes lock, speaking the same language, craving the same thing. The atmosphere shifts once again, this time instantly growing tight and thick with heat.
The smile on Dan’s face fades as he notices my lips part in anticipation. Long dormant hormones flood my bloodstream as my heart knocks about my chest so hard and fast I think it might simply stop.
Dan’s fingers slowly slip across my cheek and curl their way around the nape of my neck. He gently guides my mouth toward his. His magnificent face is closer than it’s ever been, and that soap and shaving cream scent is right there, beckoning me forward.
Finally, our lips meet with one
soft kiss . . . then two . . . then another.
It isn’t long before I flick my tongue against his lips like a secret knock—can I come in? And just like that, his mouth open-sesames, and our tongues do a whole lot of getting-to-know-you.
I stroke his freshly shaven cheek, noting how the muscles of his jaw loosen and tighten as our kiss deepens. Not a second later, his other hand is in my hair, pressing our faces closer, closer—as if there’s space left to close. My hand drops to his chest.
I’ve daydreamed about how it would feel when his perfect lips captured mine, but this—his hands cupping my head, his mouth wanting mine, tasting my mouth tasting his—is more sensuous than I could have possibly imagined.
Before long, consequences pile up in my dizzy head. I pull away slightly because I’m on the verge of crossing the line I’ve drawn for myself. Yet one brief glance into Dan’s mesmerizing green eyes lures me back in, making it all too easy to surrender to my awakening desire.
Instinctively, our bodies shift to better face one another. With one hand still knotted in my hair, Dan skims his other hand down the length of my arm, causing chills to erupt in the wake of his touch.
Allowing the hormones to take control, I slip my hands behind his neck and press my body against his. I’m not sure if he’s lost balance or I unknowingly push, but in an instant, I’m on top of him as he falls back onto the bed.
I nestle my hips into his side and thigh, snaking a leg around one of his. He fiddles with my hair, trying to take it down, so I reach up and swat his fingers away to gain access. He snickers in my mouth.
Once I unclasp my hair, he weaves his hand back in there, holding my head steady. With his free hand, he begins an exploratory circuit down my exposed back and up my side, inching closer to my breast with each slow lap.
Supporting myself on one elbow, I take full advantage of his body finally touching mine. I slide my hand across his chest and torso, noting the hard muscles that lay hidden under his clothing.
I take my time undoing each button of his shirt. When it’s completely open, I tug at the T-shirt underneath, untucking it from his pants. So many layers!
I wiggle my cool fingers up underneath his shirt, along the warm, soft skin of his toned stomach. He arches into my touch. I lightly graze his chest with my nails.
And then he moans.
Oh Lord.
I’m desperate to pounce on him, but I refrain, reminding myself of that stupid line I promised myself I wouldn’t cross.
Dan lightly kneads the back of my head with one hand while he makes slow circles on my tailbone with his other. Instinctively, I press my hips to his, which seems to give him the green light to travel lower. After stroking my hip a few times, he drifts his hand down to the hem of my dress, rubbing the edge between two fingers. He releases the fabric, but as he glides his hand up my hip, the hem rises an inch or two. I can’t help it—I grind my hips into his again.
What’s he doing to me?
He stops at my waist, his fingers lingering, and I’m relieved that I’m out of the danger zone until he slides his hand down to the hem again.
Oh boy.
My resolve is quickly fading, and I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been.
He toys with the hem again, then hooks a finger underneath the edge and slides it higher. As the dress rises, his fingers splay out and skim over my bare thigh that must be wondering what the hell is going on. It hasn’t seen action like this in years.
He stops at the top of my thigh by my hip and then inches around to my ass. He gives the flesh a squeeze.
Sweet Jesus!
I’m nearly lost in a sex stupor, but an annoying practical voice keeps interrupting with warnings. I ignore the voice, focusing instead on Dan’s other hand—the one with his thumb circling the edge of my breast as if asking for permission. Yes, yes, I answer by twisting into his touch. My body hasn’t been handled in so long I can’t help but release a low moan.
I’m stuck between desperately wanting this to continue and knowing it has to stop. The warnings grow louder. But his hands . . . my God, they’re igniting a fire as they skim down my bare spine, across my ass, and up my thighs. I nearly combust when his hands begin showing my breasts a good time over my dress.
Another moan escapes me, which seems to elicit one from him as well. I run my fingers over the ripples of his six-pack and up his firm chest through a small patch of chest hair. His heart is racing just like mine.
He tightens his grip on my ass as I shift over him more until I’m practically pinning him down. I graze my nails down his side and slip a finger beneath the waistband of his pants. I move along the edge, tracing across the roughness of his happy trail. I roll my hips into his and my thigh notices that he’s ready. So am I.
Should I start on his belt?
“No!” the voice in my head shouts. But I want to—so badly. It’s just a belt, after all.
I’m losing this battle and fast. I tease my tongue along his bottom lip. Another groan from him spurs me on. I circle my hips in a slow, steady rhythm, making sure to press my thigh against his hardness with each rotation. I’m close to the point of no return. One more hip grind or tongue flick and I’ll have to get naked.
He spends a moment fiddling with the small bit of fabric at my shoulder, and just when he begins to ease the material down, I hear a noise and freeze.
“What was that?” I pull back and lift up on one elbow.
Dazed by my abrupt interruption, he murmurs, “What?” as his hands stop dead on my ass and breast.
We both listen. There’s giggling only a few feet and a door away. “It’s my roommates,” I whisper.
“I’ll be quiet,” Dan assures me, guiding my mouth back to his.
I lean over him again, kissing him just as passionately, and our hands continue their exploration. But the brief interruption allows the warnings a better chance to be heard loud and clear.
I’ve had myself turned to OFF for so long that now that my switch is flipped, I don’t want to stop. Yet, if I let things go too far, it’ll probably be the end. If he gets it all now, what’s left to come back for? I’ll be just another notch. I have to stop, and I need to be honest.
“Dan,” I whisper, pulling my lips a fraction away from his as he massages my breast.
“Yeah?” he mumbles against my mouth, pressing my hips against his.
Stop? Go? Stop? Yes, stop. I have to.
I break away again, creating several inches of space between us. “I want this, but . . . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He stretches toward me, which not only closes the small distance between us, but also pins me underneath him. I momentarily succumb to his strength, his weight, and his warm breath traveling upward along my neck as his lips plant kisses mere centimeters apart.
“Why?” he whispers in my ear as he nips on my earlobe.
I don’t know why . . . wait, yes, I do. “Do you really need me to tell you?” I ask without an ounce of conviction. His delicious lips and divine hands are making me acutely aware of just how long it’s been since I’ve had sex; and now that I’ve allowed my hormones an inch, they’re begging for a mile. I scoot back on the bed, further away this time, trying to look him in the eye.
“Yes,” he answers quietly, coming at me again with those perfect lips and kissing along the edge of my jaw. He’s making this difficult.
I push his chest away and lean back on both elbows, making it impossible for him to kiss me from where he is. “Because I like you,” I say, finally catching his eye.
Dan pushes forward to hover over me and says, “I like you, too,” before continuing the assault on my mouth and my neck.
“No,” I say, after a few horribly indecisive moments, pushing him away and fully sitting up. “I really like you, and I don’t want to be that girl in New York you ho
ok up with when you’re passing through.” I hope this doesn’t kill things, but if it does then I’m right not to let it go further.
Dan sits up, too, and runs his fingers through his disheveled hair. He exhales long and hard. “Claire, I like you, too, and I was serious before when I said I don’t often go hanging out in girls’ rooms, chatting.”
“So you sleep around a lot? I mean, of course, why wouldn’t you? You’re young, you can have anyone, and really, there’s no reason you shouldn’t,” I splutter in one breath.
He frowns. “Let me be straight with you,” Dan says, raking his hand through his nearly-just-fucked hair again and rubbing his neck twice. “I don’t sleep around. I really don’t. The papers make it out like I’m for rent, for God’s sake. Have I had my share of fun? Yes, but I will also tell you that you will not be the ‘girl I hook up with in New York.’ No way. You’re—” He stops as if he’s about to say one thing but says instead, “You’ll be the granny I hook up with in New York.” He smiles playfully at me.
My mouth drops. “And you’ll be the terribly inexperienced student I have to tutor,” I say quickly, squinting hard at him and smiling.
After another deep breath, he says more seriously, “I really do like you, Claire, and I’ll understand if you don’t want this to go further tonight. I won’t agree, but I will understand.” He grins, but I can’t tell if I’ve just ruined things or not.
“Thank you.”
“I should probably let you sleep. Do you think it’s safe for me to leave?”
Of course he wants to go. Yep, I ruined it.
I listen for Camille and Bridget and hear nothing. “I think it’s safe.”
Dan stands, turns, and offers his hand. I grab on, and in one quick swoop, he pulls me to his chest. He holds me tightly for a moment, strokes my face, and gently kisses me.
“I’d really like to see you again. I’ll phone you tomorrow once I know when my days off are so we can make plans, all right?”
Maybe I didn’t kill things? “Yeah, I’d really like that.”