by Leanne Davis
His hand came to the top of her tights, and he pulled at them until they were out of the way before pushing her skirt up around her waist. His kisses felt hot on her lips and down her neck. Then, just as suddenly as he started, he stopped. He pulled her skirt back into position and smoothed her blouse down. She was sitting on the edge of his desk, blinking with confusion, desire, and a startled protest.
“What’s wrong?”
“You don’t need this. Not here.”
“I do. I do need this,” she said, surprising even herself as she grabbed at his arm and he started to step away. “Please, Nick.”
He was totally baffled by her. She could see it playing across his face. Struggling with what she first was mad about, and now, wanting it. “You’re sure?”
“No. Never. But this is okay.”
“Okay?” He smiled finally. “I guess I better step it up for it to be more than okay, huh?”
She smiled shyly. How could he do it? How could he banish her extreme anxiety and self-consciousness while teasing her and making it culminate into her sudden smiling? He never failed to put her at ease. Comfortable, she was always comfortable with Nick, and before him, she could never be. “I like everything you do.”
He leaned into her, kissing her mouth again as she sat on the desk, his body between her legs. He lifted his head from her and whispered, “I’m crazy about you.”
She stiffened with surprise as she wasn’t expecting that: such tenderness in his tone. The way he kept looking at her was almost as if, God! as if she were as pretty as Erica. Which was just crazy. She had on a long black skirt, and black tights, a dark blouse, her hair all tucked up in a ponytail, and costume jewelry around her neck. She wasn’t pretty or particularly stylish. But Nick never seemed to care. He always seemed to want her, and liked her however she was. Always.
Before she could answer, he kissed her again. He pushed her backwards, taking her tights completely off. Her slip-on shoes dropped like an afterthought to the floor. His mouth was between her thighs, kissing her, while his tongue caressed her. Then using his fingers to trace her panty line, his hands lifted her up, and pulled down her panties. She was dying for him. She succumbed to the desire, despite her embarrassment, and near burning sensations. He touched his tongue to her gently, so delicately, she whimpered. “Nick–”
She tried to pull away from him, wanting him to stop because it felt too good, too open, too intimate. It was too intense for her and her body soon agreed. She stiffened as her mind went dizzy, reeling with images, while her blood rushed. He lifted her up as he deftly undid his pants, before sitting back down on his chair, and sliding her onto him. Joelle groaned with pleasure, as if heaven had just opened its gates for her. It felt so good, and hot, and right, and satisfying. She held onto his neck, for dear life as she moved on top of him. He let her move slowly, at her own pace, easily, until she nearly whimpered her need for him to fill her completely. When he finally did, she was lost, spinning, and collapsing against him.
She stayed curled up like a kid in his arms, with her legs still spread over him, her chest flat against him, and her head on his shoulder. His arms were around her, holding her, caring for her. Then slowly, reality came back into focus. She opened her eyes to find herself in Nick’s office, straddling him on his work chair. Daylight flooded the office with clean, defined rays. His computers hummed quietly beside them, and his cell phone vibrated on his desk with waiting voice mails.
Nick shifted her, leaning her back so he could see her face. She dropped her eyes from his gaze. Those blue eyes, always so sure and confident, were watching her, gauging her reaction. No doubt gauging how much crazy would soon come out of her. He put his hand on her chin and drew her eyes into his. “Don’t get weird. Nothing changed. It’s just in my office this time.”
How did he know that’s just where she was headed with her thoughts?
“Our office. What if someone heard?”
“You never say a word. Not possible,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“You don’t use condoms with me.”
“You said you took care of it.”
“You just believed me?”
He nodded. “I just believed you.”
“I always had this fear I was going to end up broke and pregnant at age twenty or something. You know, like my mother; and become every rotten cliché out there. Troubled marriage. Young girl gets pregnant.”
“You’re not that cliché. You’re much more; you’re not even a troubled little girl anymore.”
“I was lucky. I almost was.”
“But you’re not. Quit acting like this was a mistake. Or like I don’t know you. Quit trying to tell me not to want you.”
“But you shouldn’t, you know. I could be some girl just scamming to get your fortune by having your kid.”
“Not you, Joelle. You’re not some girl to me.”
“You scare me when you say stuff like that. You’re so successful and together; I almost want to believe what you think of me.”
“You should believe me.”
He brought his lips down on hers again. Soft, tender, and sweet. “I have a strict policy on no sex at the office. No dating employees, ever. Might have to rethink that now.”
She unbelievably giggled softly. She never giggled. Yet… she was now. And while half-naked, and still straddling Nick, in his office. “I’m sorry for getting so weird.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You’re always so weird. That’s part of what I like so much about you.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Hello, Nick.”
“Hi, Erica,” he said wearily, still finding it odd to pick up his new girlfriend at his ex-girlfriend’s condo. Nick followed Erica into the living room, watching her hips sway in the silk-lined slacks she wore. She had on a delicate sweater and shell set, with pearls, and her hair down, looking soft, around her. Erica appeared perfect for going to dinner at his mother’s with all his sisters and their families. But she wasn’t going, Joelle was. What would Joelle choose to wear? What color would her hair be? How many piercings would she have? It varied. Sometimes all of them, sometimes half of them, and sometimes none. He never really knew what she’d do, or say, or wear.
“So going to one of the Lassiter family gatherings. I take it things are getting serious with you two,” Erica said, as she sat down on her couch.
“As serious as it can be with one of us still married to someone else.”
“She talks about you, not him. That must mean something.”
Nick shrugged. Unwilling to hope, and unsure where Joelle stood about him, about them, and about Joelle’s marriage. He was unwilling to ask, in case he got an answer he didn’t like. So he dated her, the best way he knew how. He called her his girlfriend because she was… And more, so damn much more. What he meant to Joelle however, he didn’t know. Nor did he dare ask.
Nick glanced up as the door to Joelle’s room opened and she stepped out. It was like meeting her all over again. He took her in with a long gaze, noting that her hair was, for once, freely flowing down her back, and around her arms in silky, long, straight strands. It was truly spectacular, almost like a living, breathing organism, it was so long, full, and silky. In the last weeks, her hair color had changed from its usual, dark, artificial black, into a more natural, dark brown. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t colored it in a while. But he didn’t ask. She was so sensitive about how she looked, even if he wasn’t. For some reason, she decided she should strive to look more like Erica, in order to be with him. He didn’t get it. He never said a word to infer such a thought, and had in fact, made it pretty clear he liked her long before her most recent transformation. He complimented her no matter what she looked like. But she usually rolled her eyes, or scoffed at him as if he couldn’t possibly mean it. Yet, he did. He’d never had a woman react to his compliments quite the way Joelle did; but then again, everything Joelle did was different.
Still, he wasn’t so sure that if he said he like
d her natural color, that she wouldn’t take that as a reason to redye it again so as not to be too much like what he wanted.
Tonight, however, Joelle wore black slacks that were dressier than she usually wore, with stylish low heels, and a magenta-colored blouse. The outfit was pretty, but so unlike anything she ever wore before. Her makeup was subtle, soft, and tasteful. Her hair was brushed to gleaming, her bangs, soft and wispy. Even a soft, pink-colored lip gloss shone on her lips. She looked gorgeous. But Nick wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. She didn’t like to look like this. She didn’t like to be judged as that kind of pretty.
“Wow,” Nick said, finally, after taking in her transformation to nearly becoming the girl-next-door.
“Is that a good wow, or is it a what-the-hell-did-she-do? wow?”
“Wow. As in you look beautiful. But I thought you weren’t comfortable with your hair down.”
She shrugged. Okay, she wasn’t answering. “What about pink? Not exactly your color, is it?”
“It’s new. You don’t like it?”
“I like it if you do. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? You have four sisters and a mother, one of whom hates me. How could you think I wouldn’t be anything but excruciatingly awkward and ill at ease? I just hope my looks won’t make it any worse.”
“Joelle, you don’t have to be anything, but yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a guy. You don’t know anything about women judging other women,” she said, as she grabbed her leather coat off the coat tree and slung her purse strap over her shoulder.
He followed her out with a helpless glance at Erica who was smirking in amusement and shaking her head in sympathy. Joelle was brusque, hardly sparing him a glance. She was in a mood, so he kept his smile of amusement to himself. They waited for the elevator in silence, which continued as they walked across the underground parking garage to his car. She jerked on the door handle, getting in with a flop and a throw of her purse. She would never stand and wait for him to open doors for her. It didn’t seem to occur to her.
He got in, and leaned across the console, taking her face in his hand and said, “Hey, if you don’t want to go, don’t.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I’m nervous. I’m–well, hell, what are you going to say about me?”
“The truth. I already told mom you were coming. I’m sure she’s figured out I’m not bringing you as my kid sister’s friend.”
“Yeah, but you can’t say the truth about me because I’m married, Nick. And that makes this, us, wrong, and especially to your mother.”
He glanced down at her arm, noticing the blouse covered her tattoo with its long, flowing sleeves. He often wondered how he ended up falling for a girl who had a five-inch tattoo of another guy’s initials in plain sight on her arm. Sometimes, loving Joelle Williams wasn’t so easy.
“That’s on you, Joelle. I can’t help that.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “It’s never your fault.”
“Back to that again? I don’t think there is any blame here. It’s circumstances.”
“Circumstances that make me look like a two-timing, gold-digging whore.”
He let out a frustrated breath of air. “Stop it, Joelle. Put your hair up. Take the blouse off, do whatever you want. But don’t lash out at me, and don’t start on the self-loathing. It’s dinner tonight. That’s it. And not worth shattering your self-esteem.”
She frowned at him with her mouth tight. “Why do you accept me so easily? So completely? When you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t accept me. I look wrong. I act wrong. I’m totally wrong to be your girlfriend.”
He was silent and stared at her until she finally had to look up and meet his gaze. Quietly he said, “What I need and want is you.”
Her eyes widened. She swallowed. Then she looked away. Silence filled his car. She pulled on her seatbelt and he looked straight out of the windshield. Finally, he asked, “Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
He started the car with a nod, thinking maybe he just won some kind of battle. Not sure. He was never sure with her.
It had been a month since that day in his office. Weeks, of dating the most skittish, scared, funny, sweet, mess of a girl he could have ever found. She was puzzled by him constantly. She often looked at him like she couldn’t believe she was sitting next to him, or lying in bed with him, or sitting across from him at a meeting. Nick reminded himself that Joelle wasn’t playing games right now, or ever. She really didn’t know what to do about him or their relationship.
And he was madly in love with her, with a startling intensity he’d never felt before. She was all he thought about. All he could desire. He didn’t know what to do with it. He tried to keep it from showing, and scaring her off. Every other woman he’d ever dated, even long term, had been women he liked, respected, and enjoyed. But he never cared for any of them like he did Joelle.
No one was like Joelle. He wanted her with him every day. Night and day. He never grew tired of her. He got angry, annoyed, exasperated, for reasons like their last conversation, but he was never bored, uninterested or tired of her. She made him smile. Made him laugh. Made him crazy.
And now his family would just have to chew on the fact that Joelle Williams, for better or worse, was now his girlfriend. And he had every intention of making it much more. Making it for real and forever.
****
Joelle didn’t know where to look, what to say, or where to put her hands. She was sitting next to Nick, who had one arm casually slung around her waist, unbeknownst to anyone else, and he nearly kept her there. He was talking, laughing, and looking very at ease with one of his sister’s husbands named Chuck. Chuck sat close, and after introducing himself, shook Joelle’s hand. Then Chuck went into an engaging story about his latest trip rock climbing. Nick was so at ease. He stayed kind of flopped in the chair with her next to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, despite his sisters’ startled and disapproving looks. He was happy too, just to be there. She saw it. The way he smiled easily, talked with everyone, and deftly switched from one topic to the next.
Then Nick’s mom called for dinner. Joelle assumed it’d be potluck-style. But no, in the next room, she saw a dining table fit for a castle, big enough for all the adults and older kids. Two smaller card tables held place settings for the rest of the kids. Joelle couldn’t fathom how she would make it through a formal, sit-down dinner. She’d never been to one. Not like this, with a big, noisy, nosy family.
It was a family she knew from another lifetime, and another perspective. Nick used to be the guy she wouldn’t look at, whom she ignored, because at sixteen, he was ancient to her, and thus, uninteresting. And now she was there with him, not Trina. Trina did no more than glare at her, which was excruciating.
Nick pulled on her hand and sat her next to him. She moved by rote and hardly looked at anyone. Even Nick. That mattered to Nick. His family was everything to him: more than his company, his success, or his money. As his date, she needed to make a good impression and she sincerely wanted to do that.
The problem was his choice of the most socially inept girl to ever sit down at a crowded table. He picked a girl his family knew facts about, facts which they didn’t like. They were predisposed with their opinions, and she was too shy to try to change any of them. There was no charm or chatter in Joelle. Right then, there weren’t even any coherent thoughts.
The meal started and all the sisters rose to help bring food to the table. Joelle just sat there, unsure what to say, her legs like concrete. There was no way she could make herself get up to offer her help.
They passed the food, a Mexican layered casserole of cheese, beans and tortillas, with sides of greens and rice. It was heavenly to her taste buds. The steam and aroma rose up from Joelle’s plate, making her mouth water. She ate, but very little, her appetite too hampered by h
er nerves. She was careful not only to drink politely and eat small bites, but to do so neatly, and quietly put her fork to plate. Everyone else talked, chatted, laughed, and kidded. The kids’ activities were hashed out, and reports of who was doing what in school. Jobs and life, in general, were discussed openly and with startling clarity and intimacy. Except for her. Joelle had a feeling that for once, they knew nothing about what was going on in Nick’s life.
Nick’s sisters glanced at her frequently. When Nick finished eating, he easily leaned back in his chair, and draped his arm behind Joelle. He brushed his hand absently through her hair, gathering it up in his fist, and letting it go, and all the while, talking to his mother, whose eyes were watching them.
What? Joelle wanted to ask. What did they think? And why didn’t it bother Nick? The looks. The silences. The tension and awkwardness at Joelle’s end of the table. Why could he boldly sit there, fiddling with her hair as if nothing was going on?
“Well, I think I’ll get coffee started, and dessert going,” his mother soon said, standing up. The sisters followed suit, and the kids wandered off. The men stayed at the table, leaning back, and discussing sports. Joelle didn’t know what to do. Finally, she got up with a deep breath. Nick was busy talking, and hardly looked up as she took her plate, his, and an empty platter, into the kitchen.
There she found the sisters and his mother, all collectively working, washing, and storing leftovers. They were in their domain, and she was merely the interloper, without the slightest entertaining or cooking talent.
“Oh, thank you, Joelle,” Debbie, Nick’s mother said, guiding her towards the sink. Trina was washing, and she glared at Joelle. Joelle went back to the table, and made two more trips. Finally, there was nothing left to do. She gratefully accepted a crisp, white towel to dry pots when Rebecca offered her the white dishrag.
“So... you and Nick?” Sophie asked.
Sure, of course. They wanted to know. She had to say something. “Yes.”
“Interesting. How did that happen after all these years?”