Block and Tackle

by Elise Faber

  “I like it.” And then he set the plates down on the coffee table and wedged himself onto the couch behind it as if he’d sat there every day of his life. The space was so tight his knees were nearly up by his elbows, but he looked completely at ease. Cringing for him, she pulled the coffee table back to give him more room, and the smile he gave her made her insides dance.

  “Sit down. Eat,” he said, pushing a plate toward her.

  Charlie sat next to him and reached for the plate and fork he offered. He took a hearty bite, and she poked at the rice with her fork.

  “C’mon. Try it,” he said through a mouthful. “It’s good.”

  She glanced up at him and back to the decadent dish in front of her. “I’m sure it’s good. I’m just…”

  “Just what?” he asked, picking up a skewer of chicken and dredging it through the peanut sauce on his plate.

  She told him the truth. “I’m just trying to calculate how many calories I’m about to consume.”

  Hutch set down the skewer and turned on the couch until his knees touched hers. She watched his eyes run up and down her body, leaving a searing trail over her skin. “Not enough,” he said finally.

  She let go of the breath she held, surprised at his response. “That’s not what my coach would’ve said.” Charlie hadn’t meant to mutter the thought aloud, but the temptation of the food and his unflinching gaze had her rattled.

  “Coach?” Hutch reached his fork to the edge of her plate and tapped it. “Take a bite first and then tell me.”

  Something about the gentleness in his tone made her pick up her fork and taste a bite of saffron rice. The warm, savory spices almost made her moan. She found herself taking a second bite before she answered.

  “Track coach. I ran in college.”

  He lifted the skewer from her plate, dipped the first piece of chicken into the sinful peanut sauce, and put the end of the wooden stick in her hand. “Here. Try that.”

  Charlie did, and she had to close her eyes. The peanut sauce was tongue heroine. “Oh my God…”

  “Good, right?” he asked. And even with her eyes closed, she knew by the smile in his voice that the dimples had come out. Charlie forced herself to open her eyes so she could enjoy them.

  Peanut sauce with a side of dimples.

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered, trying to retain her dignity.

  “Take another bite and then tell me where you went to college.”

  Charlie found herself doing just that. “Pepperdine,” she answered when she could finally speak.

  “And what events did you run in track?”

  “Long distance. I did the 400, but I preferred the mile, the steeplechase, and the 10K.”

  She watched his brow arch and his eyes glint. “Why does that not surprise me?” he teased. “You must have driven the other runners crazy.”

  Charlie tried to fight her proud smile. “Sometimes. But sometimes, they drove me crazy.”

  Hutch nodded. “Yeah, you don’t strike me as someone who likes to lose.”

  “Does anyone?” she asked, frowning. “Are you saying you were okay with losing at Ohio State?”

  “Well, it almost never happened,” he said with a teasing shrug, and Charlie laughed. “But I never let it get me down.”

  “Ugh. I’d tear myself apart until the next meet,” she muttered, the truth out before she knew what she was saying. Charlie frowned at herself. Why had she just told him that?

  “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me, either,” he said, eyeing her with that penetrating gaze. “What did you do to take the edge off? How do you unwind?”

  “Besides running, you mean?”

  Hutch laughed. “You really are addicted. Yeah, besides that.”

  “Outside,” she said on a sigh. “I go outside to unwind. That’s probably how I discovered running.”

  His eyes glittered as he watched her. “What do you like about being outside? Sunlight?”

  “Everything. Fresh air. The sky — day or night. The green of the trees. The ocean — I’ve always lived close to the coast. Getting outside means I can breathe and be free.”

  “And you can’t breathe and be free inside?”

  “Well, now I can,” she said. “Here, I can.” Again, she realized she’d revealed more about herself than she intended, and intuition told her Hutch would press for more.

  “Now you can, but not before.” It wasn’t a question. He spoke as though he understood. Could he?

  “What about you?” she asked. “How do you unwind?”

  “I do whatever will make me stop thinking.”

  Charlie smiled. “What makes you stop thinking?”

  Hutch smiled back. “Good food…” He pointed to his near-empty plate. “…good music… sex.”

  Charlie’s breath stalled, and it must have shown on her face because Hutch just laughed — without a trace of self-consciousness. “Not just those three. I like rock climbing. I like to read. Now that I’m here, I’d love to learn how to surf.”

  He’d recovered easily from the mention of sex, but she had not. She wondered what he’d look like — what he’d feel like — relaxed and spent after sex. Misted with sweat… half breathless…

  He looked down at her plate. “You haven’t touched the pakoras.”

  Charlie swallowed. “Wh-what?” She choked.

  Hutch pointed his fork to the forbidden fritters. “Your pakoras. You haven’t even tried them.”

  Charlie got a hold of herself with a sigh. She pressed her lips together. She wanted to try them, but that would be a diet disaster. A caloric catastrophe. A—

  “Whatever you’re telling yourself right now is a myth.”

  Charlie set down her fork. “And what am I telling myself?”

  “Some bullshit about how you can’t have what you want.”

  She felt her face grow hot.

  “It’s not a matter of denial,” she said, lifting her chin. “It’s a matter of choice.”

  Hutch speared one of his pakoras and swirled it through the dollop of mint chutney on his plate. He put the morsel in his mouth and closed his eyes in apparent ecstasy. Sighing audibly, he opened his eyes and grinned at her. “Seems like an obvious choice.”

  She raised a brow. “It’s not. Sometimes the things we want are mutually exclusive.”

  Still grinning, Hutch shook his head. “I believe in having it all. It’s all about balance.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “The things I want take work. Why throw away all that work for a moment of pleasure?”

  Charlie closed her mouth. She wasn’t so sure they were still talking about spicy Indian fritters.

  Hutch reached over and picked up her fork. “Life is made up of experiences we have in the moment.” He speared the lone pakora on her plate and dunked it into the chutney.

  “And moments are fleeting,” she argued. Even as she did, her traitorous heart thumped with anticipation.

  When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “But the pleasure of one experience can stay with us forever.”

  He slowly raised the fork and held it before her lips. All she had to do was open her mouth… or turn away. The choice was hers. Charlie locked eyes with his, expecting to see a simmering, lustful heat, but what she saw instead was a kind of boyish hope. She could tell Hutch wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure of himself, but he wanted this. It was all there in his eyes.

  Charlie opened her mouth and claimed his offering. And like he had, she closed her eyes. She would have closed her ears if she could have because the magic in her mouth was that good. Her brain needed no other senses to distract her from the wedding dance of flavors making merry on her tongue. Sweet. Succulent. Fiery. Rich.

  “Mmm…” she managed. She opened her eyes to find Hutch smiling, his own eyes ablaze. “What are you so happy about?” she asked, her mouth curling up into a smile even as her cheeks colored.

  “I liked that,” he murmured, his voice going hoarse, “because you liked that.”
<
br />   Charlie felt a fluttering in her middle. He liked it because she liked it. This was new. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. Thinking back on the handful of boyfriends she’d had in college, Charlie couldn’t recall any of them smiling like that as they watched her enjoy something as simple as a meal.

  It made her feel… special.

  It was as though he couldn’t look away, and Charlie felt her pulse hammer against her chest. Against her throat. Against places much farther south.

  The small room seemed to shrink. Forcing herself to take a deep, cleansing breath, she sat up straight and nudged her plate away. “Thank you. That was delicious. All of it.”

  She sounded much more composed than she felt. His presence, his attention, his eyes, everything about him weakened her resolve, and Charlie found herself wanting to reach for him.

  That could not happen.

  Hutch gently set her fork down on her abandoned plate and then leaned into the back of her couch. He watched her for a long moment. So long the silence grew awkward. The look in his eyes was completely unreadable.

  “Are you wishing I hadn’t come?”

  The question shocked the truth out of her. “No. Not at all.”

  His elegant brow rose just a fraction. “But you want me to leave.” It wasn’t a question, but he sought her face for an answer, and, again, Charlie felt compelled to speak the truth.

  “I don’t want you to leave. I need you to leave.” Saying it aloud filled her with regret, so much so she nearly panicked. Please don’t leave, she wanted to tell him.

  The light in his eyes changed. “You don’t want me to leave?” She watched him fight a smile. Seeing that made her happy in a way she couldn’t explain. And at the same time, the happiness stung in a way that almost made her eyes water.

  She took a measured breath. “You heard me,” she said, unwilling to give away anything else.

  Hutch brought his elbow to the back of her couch and leaned his head against his knuckles. He looked at her. No one in her whole life had ever looked at her so openly.

  “I don’t want to leave.” His voice was soft, deep, and it penetrated her skin and buried itself deep into her bones. She felt like she’d carry its resonance in her ribs and her sternum and her spine for the rest of her days.

  Charlie swallowed and leaned against the back of her couch, matching his posture almost exactly. It was comfortable like this, resting her head against her hand and staring at an impossibly beautiful man. “What do you want?” she heard herself whisper.

  “I want permission,” he whispered back.

  Her breath tripped, stopped, and started again. “Permission for what?”

  “To kiss you.”

  She wanted — oh, how she wanted — to say yes.

  “I can’t.” Her voice came out in a squeak, but at least she was able to speak the words she absolutely did not want to speak.

  Hutch nodded slowly. “I know.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off her. He didn’t move.

  “Tell me everything about you,” he said instead, and Charlie found herself caught in an avalanche of longing.

  “Wh-what?” she managed, even though she was sure she’d be crushed under the weight of such temptation.

  “You can’t give me permission to kiss you. Give me something else,” he said, completely straight-faced. “I know your lovely, old-fashioned name. I know you can run like the devil is after you. I know you are kind to people less fortunate. I know where you work and where you went to school. I know you’re from Goleta, and your parents are professors. I know what you smell like after a shower—”

  She gasped. He grinned, unabashed. “Peaches. It’s intoxicating, by the way.” At his words, her cheeks flooded with heat, and he gave a low chuckle. “I know you have the prettiest goddamn blush I’ve ever seen. I know that you like Indian food almost as much as I do. I know that you don’t eat it nearly often enough — you don’t eat anything nearly often enough—”

  Her chest ached, and her throat burned. He’d listened to every word she’d said. He’d given her his undivided attention and taken everything she’d offered — spoken or unspoken. Charlie gripped the back of the couch cushion to have something to hold onto.

  “I know you work hard for what you have. I know you have integrity because you won’t go out with me, but I know you have patience because you didn’t slam the door in my face.” His grin became wistful then, and she felt this, too, deep in her bones. “And I know I probably sound more than a little unhinged going on like this, but I also know that you may not like me as much as I like you, Charlie, but you do like me. I can feel it. It feels really good, and I just can’t make myself walk aw—”

  Charlie lunged. It was just like crossing the finish line and breaking the tape. Her lips met the prize of his perfect mouth, his startled breath giving her welcome to taste him. And Hutch tasted like blackberry wine and certainty.

  Kissing him felt so right.

  Especially when his arms clasped around her, and he pulled her onto his lap, taking her kiss and making it his. Cradled in his arms, she moved her hands to his face and felt the delicious scrape of his blond stubble against her fingers.

  The solid warmth of his body against hers brought a pleasure all its own. She leaned into it as he tilted her head and his tongue beseeched her mouth to open for him. She did, and he responded with a grateful moan. The sound hummed down her own throat and sent chills along her neck. His tongue stroked hers, and she sensed innately that he was giving his kiss, not taking hers.

  He pulled back and took her bottom lip lightly between his teeth before kissing it.

  “I knew you’d taste good,” he whispered against her mouth. “Just like you smell. Like peaches and summer.”

  Charlie was glad she was wrapped up in his arms because her whole body had become a spent candle, melting and dripping and softening everywhere. She ran the tips of her fingers down his neck, and she felt him shiver as his breath came choppy against her lips. Enjoying the pleasure it obviously gave him, she did it again.

  “Mmm…” The sound was a low, gratified rumble that filled her with pride. Charlie then dragged her lips along his strong jaw, kissing as she went, savoring his clean, verdant scent. He smelled like the forest after a rain. Beneath her lips, Charlie felt his smile grow, so she kissed each dimple.

  “I like that,” he murmured.

  She liked it too. Not just because he was beautiful — though he undoubtedly was. And not just because every place she touched on his body felt all kinds of amazing — though it did. But because he was right. Charlie did like him. She liked the way he looked at her. The way he listened to her. The way he treated her. And she wanted to make him feel just as good.

  She kissed her way down his neck, and when he tilted his head back against the couch, giving it to her, Charlie found herself scrambling up and straddling his lap.

  Her hands moved down his torso to the bottom of his t-shirt before they slipped beneath it and pressed against the solid wall of his abs. His skin burned like embers. She wanted to throw off his shirt before shrugging out of her pullover so she could meet him skin to skin.

  And then…

  Her mind raced ahead to the shedding of his jeans and her yoga pants and the inevitable collapsing together on her bed. She wanted that. She wanted that right now.

  But what would happen after?

  Whether he stayed the night or left her after they’d lost control, Charlie would have to wake up in the morning and go to work. Go to work knowing she’d failed.

  And then she’d have to see him on Friday at the party, and he’d know that she didn’t deserve the job at Prestige. He’d be surrounded by his friends. Would he say anything about her? Would they know just by looking at her what they’d done? Would Kurt know?

  Would she still have a job come Monday?

  As her thoughts ran away with her — running her all the way back to her parents’ house in Goleta where she’d surely ha
ve to return in shame, Charlie’s hands halted on Hutch’s stomach and she pulled back.

  His hand cupped her cheek. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, eyeing her with a concerned frown.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Hutch studied her, running his thumb against her cheek. “I wouldn’t tell a soul. I swear.”

  Charlie shook her head and crawled awkwardly off his lap.

  “Charlie…” She could hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, kneeling beside him and making herself meet his eyes. The disappointment was there too. “Someone would find out.”

  Hutch shook his head. “No one would find out.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “So, you mean we let this thing play out the way it’s about to play out, and you end up in my bed, and then tomorrow, we both go our separate ways?”

  Hutch frowned. “It wasn’t going to play out that way.”

  “Oh, really?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Yeah, really.”

  She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to hear more, but she didn’t need him to know how much.

  “Then tell me how it was going to play out.”

  He blinked, slowly, those impossibly long lashes sweeping out with the languid motion. Charlie balled her fists to keep from reaching out and touching him again. It was all she wanted to do even as she tried to send him away.

  He reached for her, took one of her clenched fists, and tugged it to him. She kept the hand closed even though her heart had climbed up her throat and was banging at the back of her tonsils to escape and flutter over to him on hummingbird wings.

  Hutch pushed his thumb into the close of her hand and ran it over her palm, making her fingers open for him.

  “Here’s how,” he said, looking at their hands as he continued his slow exploration. “I’d kiss you until both our lips were bruised from it, and then I’d go home with a boner roughly the size of a sledgehammer…”

  When her breath left her, Hutch looked up at her with a wicked smile.

  “…and I’d count the days until Friday when I could see you again. But, honestly, I probably wouldn’t be able to wait that long since today is only Tuesday.” He shrugged and let his eyes search the ceiling. “I might be able to hold out through tomorrow — I’d be sore from the extra-long run and the kissing, remember — but I don’t think I’d make it past Thursday. So I’d call you to see if we could grab a bite or run together or go see the Wave Organ—”