So Screwed

by Melissa Marino

  The server came back with our wine. She babbled about vineyards and specials, but I didn’t hear a word. I was mortified because now my neurotic jealous side, which I’d worked so hard to keep in check, had vomited across the white linen tablecloth.

  As soon as my glass was filled, I brought it to my mouth and took a large sip. Abel was still grinning, calm and composed, and probably trying to think of an excuse to ditch the crazy girl.

  “For the record,” he said once the server left. “Bridget saw the key, but I guess she wasn’t around long enough to see me slide it back across the bar to the woman who gave it to me. I didn’t sleep with anyone last night. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about you long enough to even consider it.”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t owe me—”

  “Will you shut up for a second?” He reached across the table and took my hand. “Also, I hope you wouldn’t be totally fine with it because I know I wouldn’t be if the tables were turned.”

  He squeezed my fingers as my face grew warm from the wine. Or maybe it was me blushing. Regardless, it didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Blushing is sexy as hell on you,” he said, winking.

  I let out a long sigh. “I know a lot of girls say they aren’t those psycho, controlling girls, but they really are. But I’m really not. I’m me. I’ll be me with or without someone. I…” I motioned between us. “I like spending time with you.”

  He raised his glass to me, and I followed. “As do I. There’s no one else I want to be here with. Cheers.”

  We lifted our wineglasses and clinked them together. I wasn’t sure if I believed him completely or not, but I wasn’t convinced if you could ever truly know. He said what I needed to hear, and with the slow burn of the candles surrounding us, I let all that was holding me back go up in smoke.

  * * *

  He couldn’t take his eyes off me. Not when he ordered his food or when he sipped from his wineglass. Not when we shared a plate of oysters. Not when he played with my fingers, and stroked my hand, or when I stood to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. His eyes watched me from the across the room as I walked back to our table. It was intense, the way he looked at me without noticing anyone else in the room. There was a building of desire, a rising of energy between us that was reaching new levels. As I sat back down, I knew we had to get to the hard questions, or we would’ve just sat there and made goo-goo eyes at each other all night.

  “What’s your favorite book?” I asked.

  The question was general and common, but it was important. There were so many dudes who didn’t read at all, but with him wanting to be a teacher I had higher hopes. He lifted his wineglass to his lips and took a slow sip. It was obvious he was carefully choosing, which was a good sign.

  “Harry Potter,” he said, setting his glass down.

  It didn’t get more elementary than that or more perfect. No way was I going to let him know that, though.

  “Interesting,” I said, nodding. “Why?”

  “I’m not stupid. I know saying War and Peace, or some shit like that would be more impressive, but why lie?”

  “I’m all for not lying.”

  “I’m assuming you’ve read it.”

  Since we’d agreed not to lie, I nodded.

  He scooted forward in his seat, excitement visible across his face. “I mean, what other books teach so many life lessons? There’s the ultimate friendships, being brave and standing up for yourself,” he said, counting on his fingers. “The struggle between wondering where you came from and who you think you are. Plus, I think the most important thing of all is what Dumbledore said: ‘The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.’”

  He leaned back, seemingly proud of himself. I could feel myself trying to contain a smile because he’d hit it out of the park. My swoon meter was going crazy.

  “Do you know that quote?” he asked.

  “Of course. Do you know what book it’s from?”

  “Ah. Yeah, Sorcerer’s Stone.”

  Impressive.

  Our dinner arrived, trout with lemon, capers, and brown butter for me and hanger steak with herbed butter for him. We shared a macaroni gratin, with caramelized onions and Gruyère cheese, which put my beer macaroni and cheese to serious shame. We emptied the bottle of wine as we ate, giggling at the couple next to us who were sitting in silence and appearing angry.

  “What do you think he did?” I whispered. “She looks super pissed.”

  He set his fork down and wiped his mouth. “Why do you assume it’s him?”

  “I don’t know. I just—”

  I was cut off by the girl splashing her drink in his face, telling him to go to hell. She stomped away, as her date was left with a wet shirt and a deflated expression.

  “Whoa,” I mouthed to Abel. “Sucks to be him.”

  “Okay. So maybe he did do something, but that’s no excuse for public humiliation.”

  I could tell by his expression he had some firsthand experience. “Unless he told her that he slept with her best friend, then I agree.”

  “Or if he had a friend tell her he moved to Paraguay to join the Peace Corps only to have her see you a week later with another girl on the jumbotron at a Blackhawks game.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I didn’t say it was me. It was…a hypothetical.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  He shrugged. “Want to taste this?” he asked, pointing to his steak.

  “Yes, please,” I said, relieved for a change in topic.

  I didn’t want to imagine I’d be the girl on the jumbotron or the one being broken up with by his friend. There was always that fear, no matter how much trust was given, that your heart might be broken. I was going to try to not let that fear ruin me, but knowing he probably had a sordid past left me uneasy. It was a dangerous path, so close to jumping off and free-falling through terrifying, bottomless unknown.

  He lifted his fork to me and brought the steak to my mouth. I took the bite and nodded, giving him a thumbs-up for how good it was. Before returning his fork to his plate, he put it in his own mouth, licking it off slowly.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

  “Getting whatever is left of you,” he said.

  I laughed, shaking my head and scooping up a petite pea from my plate. “Bonus points,” I said.

  “I’ll take all I can get. So, what’s happening at work? I know what you do, but not sure how you do it or whatever.”

  I picked up a napkin and wiped my mouth, smearing whatever was left of my lipstick on the white fabric. “Funny you should ask. Bridget lined up something big for me. It’s going to have me relocating for a few months, but it’s very exciting.”

  He stopped mid-bite, his fork hanging in the air in front of his face. After he swallowed roughly, he asked, “Relocating? That sounds…cool.”

  “I think so,” I said. “I mean, it’s only for a few months, like I said.”

  “Where?”

  “Charleston, South Carolina. Bridget is expanding, and with that area being one of the top destinations for weddings, it makes sense.”

  He set his utensils down and shifted around in his seat. A tension lowered around us, and it made me pause as well. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what he was thinking, or what I’d hoped he was thinking. If whatever this was between us was going to continue, what would it mean?

  “Did I tell you how handsome you looked tonight?” I asked.

  His hand slid across the table, and he placed it on top of mine. “No, but that hardly matters. What does matter is, did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

  “No. You told me I looked hot, which in my book is an even better compliment,” I said, scooping up a piece of my trout. “Want to try some of mine?”

  He winked and then grinned, dimples deep. “Yes, I would, Evelyn.”

  We finished our dinner while debating our love
for opposite Chicago baseball teams. The true deal breaker wouldn’t have been over books, but the fact that he was a Cubs fan while I was a White Sox one.

  “Star-crossed lovers. We might as well just call it quits now,” he said.

  “I agree. We were doomed from the start.”

  Our server came by, leaving a dessert menu on the table, which I only gave a glance to. The food, along with the wine, had left me feeling tipsy and relaxed. Everything about the night had gone so differently than I anticipated, and so much better. There was only one thing that could make it even better.

  “Dessert?” the server asked when she returned.

  “Dessert?” Abel repeated to me.

  I looked at the menu and had to make a quick decision. “Can we get the huckleberry and cacao macaroons and chartreuse cream puff?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right out with it,” she said.

  “Actually. If you don’t mind, can we get it to go?”

  He raised his eyebrows at me, clearly wondering what I was up to. The purpose was served, and I had him right where I wanted.

  After the bill was paid, we walked back down the dark alley where all I could imagine was being lifted up against the wall while he kissed me so hard we were delirious. We held hands, quiet until we reached the car.

  He started it, but turned to me instead of pulling away. He took my face in his hands and brought me in close. His lips were faintly stained red from the wine we shared, and I wondered if mine were the same.

  “Dinner was too long without me having my hands on you,” he said, rubbing his nose against mine. “You have no idea how much you drive me crazy.”

  Good.

  I closed the space between us, pressing my lips against his and brushing my fingers against his beard. He kept it short enough for me to trace his skin underneath, feeling exactly where his dimples hollowed as he smiled against my kiss.

  “There is something you need to tell me. You never told me your favorite book,” he said, twirling his finger around a piece of my hair.

  “Pride and Prejudice. I’m a classics girl.”

  “Hmm. I dig Austen.”

  “Oh, really? You’ve read Pride and Prejudice,” I asked in disbelief.

  “Don’t believe me again, huh?” He moved too close to my ear. “I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.”

  I gasped, pushing him back. “Did you just quote Mr. Darcy to me?”

  “Believe me now?”

  “Perhaps.”

  He moved closer again, gradually saying, “I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit.”

  “I’m almost convinced.”

  His lips pressed against my neck, his words tickling my skin. “My feelings will not be repressed.”

  “I believe you.”

  I kissed him again, pushing my chest into his and rising up in my seat. His hands wrapped around my waist, but moved down to my ass. No doubt passersby could see my arms raised, pressing my hands into the ceiling of the car, as his tongue sucked at my collarbone. I felt him everywhere, but not close enough at the same time. I wanted to taste his skin, feel the muscles of his chest while he moved above me. I knew what I wanted now. There was no doubt in the way he kissed me, the way he muttered my name against my skin.

  “Come home with me,” he whispered in my ear. “Please.”

  Even though I’d promised myself at the beginning of the evening, I went against my word.

  I completely, and totally, lost my head.

  “Take me,” I said.

  The car ride was quiet, palpable sexual tension rising between us so thick it was hard to breathe. His hand rested on my bare knee, his thumb rubbing small circles across the skin.

  I followed him into his apartment, dropping my purse and the small bag of our desserts on the end table, as he guided me by the hand to his bedroom. The quiet confidence turned me on even more, the way he knew I wanted him, and the way I knew he wanted me just as much. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me toward him. I stepped between his open legs and stood waiting. I wanted him to tell me how he wanted me.

  He brought his mouth to my chest, placing light kisses where my dress dipped to a V. His tongue swept upward, and his hands shifted down. Cupping my ass, he pushed me closer into him. The heat of his kisses increased, the warm breath of a touch and the tickle of his beard on my skin made me shiver.

  He pulled away. “Cold?”

  Moonlight came through the sheer overlay of his curtains, creating shadows across his face. He looked worried, his eyebrows pulled together tightly. It made him look vulnerable…unsure.

  And this made my emotions, the fear and the uncertainty mixed with the knowledge that this kind of chemistry didn’t happen every day, become clearer to me. It was more than the physical. It was a lot more, but I wasn’t ready to admit to myself what I knew it was. It was too scary to think about, and in that moment, I only wanted to enjoy it for what it was.

  “No,” I said, bending down. I pressed my lips to his, sliding my tongue in to join his. I pushed against his chest as I kissed him deeper, hearing him emit a soft groan.

  His hands rubbed my back up and down until he stopped at the zipper of my dress. With a slow, deliberate pull, he eased the zipper down. I slid the dress off one shoulder and then the other, as our kiss never broke.

  I stepped back, both of us panting, and with my eyes on his, I pushed the rest of my dress down. It fell to the floor along with any inhibitions as I stood in front of him in my matching black bra and panties. He leaned back against his elbows, spreading his legs, showing his visible erection beneath his pants. My heart raced, matching the rise and fall of his chest, as I stepped out of my heels and dress.

  “Come here, Evelyn.”

  Chapter Ten

  ABEL—

  She walked slowly toward me before kneeling in front of me, reaching for my belt. As much as I wanted what she was ready to give, there was something else I desired more. I gripped her wrist and pulled her up to me.

  “You,” I demanded. “You are what I want right now.”

  I pulled her onto my lap, which she straddled grinding into my hard dick that was about to bust through my zipper. My hand slipped up her back, her skin smooth and erupting goose bumps. She trembled as I gripped the back of her hair, and brought her mouth to mine. The deeper we kissed, the harder she ground herself into me until I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I picked her up and stood as she wrapped her legs around my waist. As I carried her to the side of the bed, she buried her head in my neck.

  Her grasp on me tightened, and it was then my attention briefly shifted from dick to my heart. She was going to be leaving in a few months. I tried to mask my disappointment over it because at this stage of the game I had no right to feel any other way but happy for what she had accomplished. But the disappointment was there. I didn’t want her leaving just as soon as I’d found her.

  I didn’t want to dwell on it, though. The whole evening was a dance, a movement of words and glances. Conversation and smiles, rising desire and truths all rose around us. It was amazing.

  And now I was going to be able to see just how much more amazing it was going to get.

  “You better be just as good at fucking me as you are at the art of seduction, handsome,” she whispered.

  “Jesus Christ,” I hissed, laying her down in the middle of the bed.

  Instead of staying put, she got up on her knees and crawled to me, bringing her fingers to unbutton my shirt. “Allow me.” She looked up at me.

  With careful precision, she undid each button with the push of her dark purple fingernails. When she was done, she yanked the sides up roughly to pull the rest out from my pants. She began to crawl back, wiggling her finger at me to follow her.

  “You are going to fucking wreck me,” I said, pulling my T-shirt off over my head.

  I climbed onto the bed next to her, and she pushed me down by my shoulders so she
could climb on top. Her take-charge sense was so hot and so different than the girls that made me do all the work. It made me want her more.

  Slow and controlled, she moved up and down my waist, grinding herself into my erection. My hands grasped her ass, and my fingers pushed against the delicate lace of her underwear, guiding her. Her moans grew louder as she leaned back and pushed her breasts farther to the top of her bra. I’d wanted to see under that bra for entirely too long, so I pushed the straps and front down.

  “You,” I said, bringing my mouth to her tits. “Are the”—I licked around her nipple, teasing the skin with the tip of tongue—“the sexiest”—running my teeth gently across the hardened tip—“thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She pulled at the back of my hair and rubbed herself into my dick even more. The more I sucked, moving between her perfect, full breasts, the more she responded.

  Mental note: This girl loves the breast play. When given the chance after this first night of fucking the sense out of both of us, titty fucking should be on the menu at some point.

  I reached around to her back and unhooked her bra, pulling it off altogether.

  She flipped her head back, her hair falling all over. “What do you want?” she asked breathlessly.

  I brought my thumb to her lips, freed of lipstick and pink and full from kissing. “I want inside you,” I said, rolling her under me. “That’s what I want.”

  She smiled and lifted her fist to me for a pump. Man. This was what drove me so completely crazy with this girl. She was off the chart sexy, so fucking hot I was afraid I was going to blow my load in three pumps. But then she was fun, too. The moment when you first sleep with someone you have feelings for is high pressure. With one gesture, she put us at ease.

  I stood up, unbuttoned my pants and eased my zipper down. She sat up on her elbows, watching me with an eagerness that made me move faster. My heart raced as I pushed my pants and underwear down, kicking them to the floor. I reached over to the nightstand and flung open the top drawer to get a condom. I tore it open and rolled it up my dick.