Center of Gravity

by Neve Wilder

  “I haven’t been bluffing. Just losing,” I grumbled, and he nudged me with his toe as I dropped a few cards into the discard pile and drew.

  “You were trying to bluff on that last hand.”

  “No I wasn’t.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do I have tells?”

  “Everyone has tells.”

  “Well then tell me mine.”

  “Not a chance.” He gave me that maddening close-mouthed smile that was almost arrogant.

  I ran a hand over my collarbone, watching him as I let my fingers drop to pluck and twist at the barbell through my nipple until his smile sobered. He may have had a decent poker face at cards, but when it came to my body, he was all tells. It was my turn to smirk. Until he laid down his cards.

  “Didn’t you literally just have three of a kind two hands ago?” I tossed down my measly two pairs and unbuttoned the top of my jeans, adjusting in the process so the growing bulge that lay beneath strained at the top of my zipper. “You’re rigging this somehow.”

  He chuckled. “That’d be virtually impossible.” After raking up the cards, he shuffled and dealt a new hand.

  “So who are these guys you play poker with? Work buddies?”

  “Just some other guys who live in the same complex.”

  “What do they do?”

  Rob’s fingers paused on top of his cards. “There’s a lawyer, a sales rep, some tech guys, a banker, Scott—we usually play at his apartment.”

  “What’s he like?”

  His head tilted to one side. “He’s nice. Divorced, two older sons. Nice guy.”

  “You said that twice.”

  “Well, he is nice.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “You get a tiny line between your eyebrows when you don’t like something. It’s not quite a frown. More like the idea of one that you’re holding back.”

  I brushed his index finger away as it lifted to caress the spot.

  “You’re jealous.” He laughed, seeming humored by the idea and completely non-threatened.

  “I’m not,” I groused. “I don’t get jealous.” But I was, imagining Rob hanging out with a bunch of other guys who all had their shit together, everyone laughing and joking and in their element.

  I threw a chip from my diminishing pile into the pot and studied my hand. I checked and when he raised, I picked up a stack of chips to match it before biting at my lower lip. Click went the ring against my teeth. His attention snapped up as if the sound were a gunshot. I loved the Pavlovian effect it had on him. “If I win this hand, I want to fuck you.”

  Rob’s half-lidded, soporific gaze widened with alarm, like I’d told him I was about to hit him or something.

  “Wow, I take back what I said about your poker face. That was a tell a mile wide. Do you hate bottoming that much?”

  He tried to brush it off with a wave of his hand. “No, it’s not that I hate it, it’s just…” He grimaced and went quiet for a second as if trying to choose his words carefully. “It’s just that it doesn’t seem like something that should be a transaction.”

  I both understood what he meant and didn’t, especially when it came to us. Wasn’t that what we were? One long transaction of orgasms served and taken. He scrutinized my face and exhaled a sigh, straightening on the bed and tossing his cards aside. “Fuck, I said the wrong thing, didn’t I? I made you feel bad for asking?”

  Yes. He had, and if we got into it now, this fragile thing we’d created was liable to collapse, and the night would be ruined. It wasn’t his fault that I didn’t want to keep my dick in my pants around him. Wasn’t his fault that I wanted more out of it when he’d been clear from the beginning. Our relationship felt like something composed of thin filaments strung together with sex, and I was just as much an instigator as he was.

  I hesitated, the concern in his expression melting away some of my prickliness. I didn’t really fucking care if he bottomed for me right now, but I wanted to know the option was there, and he hadn’t said it wasn’t.

  “Nah, I’m good.” I jutted my chin at his cards. “So what’ve you got?”

  He gave me one more long look, as if doubting I meant what I said, before he flipped his hand in my direction. My full house had his straight, which meant the last button on his shirt was mine. I tossed my cards aside and crawled across the bed, pulling the cards from his hand and tossing them too as I straddled him.

  His gaze fastened to me as I slipped the button free and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. “That’s not a hard no or anything,” he murmured, eyes falling shut as my fingertips danced over his collarbone. “Fuck, that’s good.”

  I nipped at his earlobe, trailed my mouth across the underside of his jaw, and opened his pants. His fingers slipped between my parted lips and I sucked them until he groaned and pulled them free, wedging his hand inside the leg of my boxers and slicking them against my hole. Nerve endings sang and heat rushed through me. He circled and teased my hole until my cock was leaking and my hips were chasing his movements, trying to force him inside.

  “You’re such a fucking tease,” I moaned the second before he plunged one finger in me and made me gasp.

  “Only because I love the way you look when you’re flustered.” He pulled my mouth to his, tangling his tongue with mine. I felt him kick free of his pants.

  “Likewise,” I panted.

  “Get these off,” he growled, pulling his finger from me so I could shuck my boxers. Instead, I sat up and snapped them back into place with a smile. “You didn’t say please.”

  He started to grit his teeth and then grinned back. “You little shit.” A thrust of his hips had me careening sideways on the bed. He caught me as I flopped and pinned me, wrestling my boxers off. While he was tackling his own boxers, I stood from the bed and shoved him back down on it, straddling him again.

  “So it’s going to be that kind of night, is it?” His grin went roguish as I nudged his shoulders, urging him down onto his back.

  “Oh yes. You’re going to say please. You’re going to watch me fuck myself with my finger until you can’t stand not being inside me. And then? You’re going to say please.”

  Another quiet, amused laugh from Rob that trailed off as I rose onto my knees above him, wet my finger and slid it inside myself. It wasn’t half as good as the feeling of his, but watching his face contort with lust made up the difference. The shudder that ran through my shoulders leapt the divide and ran through his. His breathing staggered just like mine did, and when I reached for my cock with my free hand and gave it a few lazy strokes, he moaned. “God, I could watch you for hours.”

  He caressed the length of my arm before dropping away. His hand wrapped around mine, his index finger pushing into my ass alongside mine. I shivered again at the disparate sensations, my own familiar finger and the alienness of his. It was erotic as fuck. I wished there was a camera somewhere recording it, recording his face and how he was watching me, the wild fall of his hair across his forehead, the glazed eyes and parted, kiss-swollen lips.

  He brushed my prostate and fat drops of pre-cum leaked from my slit, dripping onto the rise and fall of his stomach. When he added his middle finger alongside the other, I dropped my hand from my cock to brace against his hip, pleasure magnifying and making my bones liquid. My back arched with each thrust, breath coming in low, harsh pants that were nothing more than curses and his name. And just when I thought he’d called my bluff again, just when I was about to beg him to stick his dick inside me, his lips parted again on a curse, and then he said, “Please. For fuck’s sake, you drive me crazy.”

  I knocked his hand away and couldn’t get a condom on him fast enough. I’d barely managed to drizzle lube over the tip when his hips arched and he was gliding inside me with a deep, guttural groan. My ass clenched around him and I leaned over, burying my fingers in his hair, sinking my mouth against his so that his inhales were mine and my exhales were his.

  My forearms anchored over his biceps, making his hands useless as I rode him slowly, so f
ucking slowly that every pore of my body ached and I could see the same ache in his eyes. Faster, harder, softer, we dissolved into movement, into tangled limbs and harsh, panted breaths until we wrung orgasms from each other, until he shattered within me and I shattered around him.

  For all the other ways we stumbled, this was the one part we always got right.

  23

  Rob

  I drummed my fingers on the counter, willing the old Mr. Coffee to work faster. My mom had been a creature of habit, and this machine had come with her from Jersey, a Christmas gift from my dad in the eighties. I remembered her unwrapping the thing Christmas morning, the big box and shiny black plastic that was probably leaching toxic chemicals into the water at the moment. She’d been elated at the timer function. Even after she’d gotten sick and been mostly bedridden, she’d still set it to brew every morning at 6 a.m. so dad would have coffee, and because she said she liked to wake up to the scent.

  I brushed my fingers over the buttons, their designations long since worn off. I imagined a shiny new Keurig, weekend mornings with Alex, his lazy Sunday morning grin as we drank coffee together. My shoes emitted a wet squelch, courtesy of my morning run and a few early bird sprinkler systems, as I reached for a mug. Alex had made a mad dash for the door this morning. We’d both overslept. He had a full day of moves planned, which was good, because I needed time to get everything in place. A property manager for local vacation rentals was coming by at noon to take a look at the house, and the fridge was stocked with food I intended to make into a picnic dinner for Alex and me on the beach.

  The bag he’d left behind was next to the door, just in case he needed it before tonight. I wasn’t sure. He’d been in such a hurry. We’d been up late, too late, and even now my nerve endings zinged with the memories of Alex riding me, and earlier in the Uber on the way home from the club.

  I fumbled the door open, Alex giving me a playful shove as I climbed into the back of the SUV.

  “Where you going, man?” The driver flicked a glance at me through the rearview mirror when I gave the address. Alex clambered in beside me and laid his hand over my thigh.

  “Better practice your poker face,” Alex said, cracking a smile as his hand slid higher.

  “Alex,” I tried to give him a warning tone, pushing his hand off of me. “We’re in a fucking Uber, not Taxicab Confessional.”

  The driver’s gaze flicked warily back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road.

  “Mm, maybe, but I want it.” Alex made a careless humming sound and leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin on the back of the passenger seat. “You okay with me giving my guy here a beej?”

  I felt my cheeks burning and was two seconds from hissing at Alex in embarrassment. I had no desire to get chucked from an Uber at 1 a.m.

  The driver darted another look back at me, then over to Alex. “You planning on giving me a good tip and a five star rating?” His brows went up.

  “Of course,” Alex said.

  The driver hitched one shoulder and turned his eyes back to the road. “Don’t make a fucking mess.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  That was the thing about Alex. He possessed a charming boldness that I loved. He’d thumbed my pants open, and given me that devious grin of his before curling over my lap. My head fell back against the seat, my hand stroking the curve of his spine as he’d swallowed me.

  My guy, that’s what I’d kept thinking about as he’d worked my cock. How casually he’d said it—and where I might have bristled even a month ago, right then, at that very moment, I’d wanted it to be so. I wanted to be his and I wanted him to be mine.

  I’d just sat down at the kitchen table with my coffee, Winslow nosing around my ankles, when a knock came at the door. Had to be Alex. Just thinking of him standing out there, flustered and still in a hurry, made me smile.

  “You can just come in,” I shouted. “I think we’re well past knocking.”

  The door opened and Winslow scampered toward it, then kept yapping. I heard some cursing as the door slammed. Not Alex. Definitely not Alex. I tensed and stood.

  “Rob?”

  I was so disoriented by the alien context of that familiar voice, it took me a second to reply, and longer to get to the door.

  Sean. He stood in the foyer, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He was a mess; dark circles under his eyes, his long-sleeve T-shirt rumpled, hair limp. I frowned.

  “So this is the place, huh?” He affected a casual air.

  “Yes—” I started automatically, then stopped. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

  Sean exhaled and raked a hand through his hair. His face was drawn. “You’ve talked about it a lot, so I just drove the streets until I saw your car and the sign in the yard. It’s not like there’s a ton of real estate around here.”

  My lips parted, then clamped shut again. My frown deepened. “That’s…inappropriate and a little fucked-up.”

  He flinched, then met my hard stare. “I’m your ex and your coworker, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Exactly. You need to go.” My hackles started to rise. What the hell was he thinking just coming over? It was presumptuous and rude and exactly something Sean would do.

  He shifted on his feet, removing his hands from his pockets to give me a placating gesture as he took a step closer. When Winslow growled, I shushed him and he retreated partway down the hall, remaining vigilant, as if he could sense the tension limning me.

  “I left Lisa,” Sean said, his voice quiet.

  “And?” It came out steely and cold, just as I’d intended it, but God, he looked so hopeless. I leaned past him to open the door.

  He turned his palms up. “And that’s it.”

  “You need to go.” I said again, but it sounded kinder this time.

  He caught me by the elbow, urging me around. I was poised to speak when his lips mashed against mine. Hard and reckless, the way I’d always liked. Was it tempting? Yes. His kiss was a familiar sear. But it felt all wrong.

  I wondered when the moment was that I’d actually moved on. I thought I’d feel it in a definitive way. That I might wake up one morning with the certainty in my head: yes, I’m over him. But I hadn’t. It was like a sore spot that I rubbed and worried on occasion, testing to see if it was still tender. Lately, I’d forgotten to test it at all.

  It was undeniable now. I didn’t want him like that anymore. Instead, my thoughts sprang to Alex, to the softness of his lips, the alluring juxtaposition of warm flesh and the cool steel of the ring piercing it. His smile and his laugh and the way he teased me and drove me crazy. All of it.

  I pushed Sean away.

  “I thought we might—I still love you, Rob.” Sean’s hands dropped back to his sides when I took another backward step out of his embrace.

  “I don’t know that you ever loved me, Sean. You might’ve thought you did, but love doesn’t lie the way you did.”

  His eyes brimmed, but the threat of tears only strengthened my conviction.

  “I was scared,” he whispered.

  “I know. Me too. But I never lied to you.”

  “Fuck.” A tremor passed through his jaw, and though I didn’t feel as sorry for him as he might have wanted me to, I didn’t hate him either. I was sad for us both and the stupid decisions that had landed us here.

  Muttering a curse, I gestured him into the kitchen.

  “You look like shit,” I said as he trailed behind me.

  “I know.”

  “Have you eaten?” Once he sat at the table, I planted a mug of coffee in front of him that he wrapped with his trembling fingers.

  “I can’t.”

  “You need to.” I sat next to him, watching as he took a slow sip of coffee. “Why’d you do it?”

  “I don’t love her.”

  It hurt to hear now, even still. I wanted to ask why now? Why not before his lie came out, why not before there was a baby involved? Before the multiple losses.
He was clearly still grieving. I wasn’t sure if he knew it. But what did the whys matter now anyway? It stung, yes, but only my pride.

  “Don’t say it,” he pleaded, as if he could read what was behind my eyes.

  I shook my head. “I won’t.” I wasn’t that cruel.

  Sean looked out of the window, then back to his coffee mug where his thumb rubbed up and down along the smooth ceramic side. “I thought we might pick up where we left off.” When he let out a bitter chuckle, I joined in.

  It was almost humorous, really. In a wide world view of things, in a way that seemed as if fate and fortune were having a good laugh at my expense. Or maybe not. The thought occurred as my laughter trailed off. I’d never considered it before, but maybe if Sean really had left his wife for me, I’d always wonder when it would be my turn for him to leave me.

  “I’m sorry for coming out,” Sean said once we were into our second round of coffee. “I’ll go in a bit, just let me stay a while and…breathe.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “We never should have been together in the first place.”

  At first, I thought Sean meant us, which I would have agreed with, but he kept going, misery painted in dark lines over his face. “Our marriage has been broken for so long, but the idea of a family—I thought that was what I wanted. I thought it would fix us. Fix me. It didn’t.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, and after a moment he shook his head and changed the subject, much to my relief.

  We finished the pot of coffee, talking intermittently about the office, about my plans for the house, what he’d do next. The silences that fell were companionable. If we’d never been lovers, we might have been friends. Maybe we still could be, I didn’t know, but it sure as hell would make going to work more pleasant.

  The front door opened again before I’d registered the two sharp knocks that preceded it. Alex called out my name and came to a halt in the doorway just as I glanced up from my coffee. I’m sure I appeared caught off guard, which he might have read as guilt.