“Andi?” he calls from behind me, but I can’t find my voice to answer.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, the sound of his voice moving towards the front of my body. “Open your eyes and look at me, please.”
I open them and look at my friend. He’s worried about me. My ease with this situation is his main concern right now. He needs to know if I’m alright. And that, right there, is why he is so amazing. That is why this will all be fine. I just need to talk to him about what I’m feeling.
“I’m starting to freak out, Miller. I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes as I speak the words that I hate. I wish I didn’t feel this way. Being with Miller should be so easy.
With the gentlest touch he’s ever granted me, he wipes my cheeks and pulls me up the stairs. We sit on the edge of his bed and he pulls off my shoes. He gets our bodies settled in our usual position from the field, the easiest way for the two of us to get things out in the open.
“Listen to me,” he tells me, using the gentlest voice he can muster. “You can give me nothing, or you can give me everything.” His voice vibrates through my body, his words soothing me. “I just need you to keep being my friend.”
I nod my head and he keeps talking.
“I think we need to set some expectations, or lack of expectations, for that matter, if this is going to happen. Andi, I want you. That much is obvious. I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. We love spending time together. We have an awesome relationship. You and I get each other. I’d like to think we are healing each other.” He stops and takes a few deep breaths. “But neither one of us is healed yet. Your heart still belongs to your husband and my heart still belongs to Lucy. I’m not asking you for your heart. I’m not asking you to forget about your husband or for you to use me as a replacement. I won’t ask for any more of you than you are willing to give me. And, in turn, you won’t ask for any of that from me. We keep that part of our lives separate from this.”
I lift my head from his chest when he’s done speaking. “So you want to be friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?”
He laughs. “That sounds trashy. I think so much more of you than that. We’ll be us, but more. If we are doing this, we have to keep our hearts out of it. We can’t let it get messy, and we can’t let it ruin us.” He places a kiss in the crown of my head. “It would kill me if this was ruined. Seriously, the last two days have been awful. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
He says not to let this get messy, but it already sounds messy, and we haven’t even started anything yet.
“I think it would kill me, too.”
“So you think we can handle this?” he asks.
I think about it for a minute and nod, probably the most hesitant nod I’ve ever produced in my life.
“One more thing.” He flips me to my back and pushes himself on top of me, supporting most of his weight with his elbows.
God, he feels so good on top of me.
“This bed is for us and us alone. We can still talk about Charlie and Lucy to each other if we need to, but we don’t do it here. We save those talks for our field. I don’t want them in bed with us. Can you do that?”
Not messy?
Right.
One again, I can only manage a nod.
He moves to kiss me, but pulls back at the last minute. “One more thing.” I look at him and smile. “This time I mean it. This really is the last thing. If you need to have a freak out moment, or panic, or if things get to be too much, don’t hide it from me or brush it off. Tell me, Andi. Let me help you sort through it.”
“Any other stipulations you want to put on this? Do I need to sign a contract?”
He laughs, and it travels through my entire body. “I’m fairly certain I covered it all. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.” He gets serious again, his eyes intense. “This will be a good thing, Andi, I promise.”
“Then quit talking and show me.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he whispers against my mouth.
I push my lips against his, need and desire taking over. We don’t need any more words. Hands are roaming, lips and tongues and working, clothes are coming off, and he’s got a condom on. I can’t think straight. All I can do is feel. My brain shuts off and my senses are working in overdrive, only aware of all things Miller.
“You ready Andi?” he whispers against my neck, ready to push into me.
I gulp, unable to speak, and nod against his shoulder. He shifts my leg, pushes his forehead against mine, and enters me. We gasp and lock eyes, frozen in awe when the connection is made. He looks away first and I’m grateful for the respite, not ready to deal with what’s happening between us, the emotions coursing through my system.
We’re changing.
He mumbles a string of incoherent words, but I catch the phrase ‘too much’ in the jumbled mess of words before he starts to move.
What’s too much? I think. Me? Us? This?
I don’t ask for clarification, and he doesn’t offer up any sort of explanation. He puts his head back against mine and starts pumping in and out of me. It’s slow at first, a teasing pace that I don’t want. I want him to lose control with me. It’s been so long and I need him to come undone. I grab his face in my hands and kiss him like I’ve never kissed a man before. Something about that kiss causes something inside of him to snap. He pushes up off of me, grabs my leg for some leverage, and pummels into me at a punishing pace. I cry out, partially from pleasure but mostly from the pain. It’s a good kind of hurt. I need it. I need the reminder of what I’m doing. I haven’t felt this is such a long time.
Before my brain can catch up, my body is humming, an orgasm building, ready to explode from me. My whole body tenses, causing Miller’s movements to falter, then increase in speed and intensity. As soon as he pushes himself deeper into me, I’m hit with the sensation. I cry out his name, closing my eyes at the force of it. He grabs my hair at the base of my neck and kisses me, moaning incoherent words into my mouth while he comes down from his equally powerful orgasm.
“Fuck, Andi, I’m sorry,” he says, rolling off of me, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash can beside the bed.
My chest seizes up, aching from hearing Miller’s apology. I don’t know what I was expecting when we finished, but it wasn’t that.
“Why?” I ask, confused. What’s he got to apologize about? Does he regret what just happened?
“I was too rough with you,” he answers, rubbing his hand up and down my arm.
The tight sensation starts to dissipate, and I relax into his arms.
“Don’t apologize for what you did. It was perfect.”
“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?”
***
I handle myself pretty well. I don’t freak out during or after the life altering sex with my best friend Miller. I take a very entertaining shower with him and keep myself from losing it during the second round of sex. I let him walk me home and give me a beautiful kiss on the front porch of my house before saying goodnight to me, with the promise of a breakfast date with me and Charley in the morning.
I handle myself pretty well until I let myself in my bedroom and see the picture from my wedding day. I look at my husband’s face and realize that at no point during the last few hours did I think about him or feel pangs of guilt over what I was doing.
That’s when it hits me. Guilt hits me with the force of a tidal wave. A tsunami. That’s when I curl up in bed with one of his Navy shirts covering my body, my favorite letter he wrote me curled in one hand, one of his trident pins curled in the other, and sob uncontrollably until sleep claims me.
That’s how Miller finds me the next day when I don’t show up for our breakfast date.
Chapter Twenty
Miller
I know I didn’t read this situation wrong. Last night couldn’t have gone any better. It was everything I hoped for, and so much more. It was perfection. It was the best sex I�
��ve ever had. I’ve never felt a connection like that with anyone. I think about the moment when I sunk into Andi and it causes my chest to tighten.
I’ve never felt like that, not even with… I stop that line of thought before I allow my brain to finish it. That’s not what this is about. This is purely physical.
It took every ounce of willpower I possess to leave Andi at her door last night. Every instinctive bone in my body was screaming at me to follow her inside, or, better yet, drag her back to my apartment and keep her there with me all night. Any doubts I had about taking our relationship to this level were obliterated the second I pushed into her tight little body. Andrea Hope Bankston and I were made to be together. We’re a perfect fit, in every sense of the word.
That’s why I’m a little confused by the fact that I’ve been sitting here for over forty-five minutes and she hasn’t shown. I’ve called and texted, but she’s not picking up or texting back. I called Cappy, but she hasn’t even been by his place to pick up Charley. Andi doesn’t flake on plans. Something isn’t right.
I throw a couple of bucks on the table to pay for the cup of coffee that sits untouched and head out of the door. Thank God the walk to Andi’s house isn’t far from where we were supposed to be having breakfast. My mind is going places that I’d rather it not. It would gut me if Andi is full of regret and shame over what happened between us last night. I can’t imagine her being so responsive and open to me last night, and then shut off to the idea when she had to face the ramifications of her actions this morning. But, I meant what I told her before anything happened. She can give me nothing, or she can give me everything. I have to keep being her friend. I won’t be able to stand it if she’s not in my life. I need her. I’ve come to need her so badly that I don’t think I can live without her.
Knocking on the door and calling out her name isn’t getting me anywhere, so I dig around on top of one of the posts supporting the front porch until my hand makes contact with the key to the front door. I let myself in and call her name into the darkened entryway. Silence.
Celeste’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so I don’t hesitate to walk through the house and open doors, searching for Andi. Hers is the last bedroom down the short hallway, so I check in Charley’s room and the bathroom first. When I finally find Andi in her dark bedroom, I stop dead in my tracks.
She regrets it.
I take one look at her and can see that she thinks what we did was a mistake. She’s curled up in a ball, her long legs tucked into that old, tattered Navy shirt I’ve seen her wearing countless times. The shirt that belonged to her husband. Surrounding her are countless pieces of paper. The creases are so worn out from use that they are ripped. Some of the papers are unfolded; the words are unreadable from tear marks. Each piece of paper begins with the same two words…Dear Red. She’s gripping one in her fist.
With as much care and reverence as I can muster, I pick up the letters, using the worn lines as a guide to refold them. I get the bed cleared off and sit down next to her, smoothing her red hair out of her face. Defined, dried tear marks are marring her beautiful skin. Fuck.
What have I done to her?
What have I done to us?
Why did I push for this to happen?
I stroke her cheek and she stirs, dropping something out of her other hand. I pick up a something shiny, and recognize the pin. I’ve seen them in movies and TV shows. I’ve seen this one on a picture she’s shown me of her dead husband. It’s the pins that SEALs get when they complete trainings and missions. I put the pin on the nightstand on top of the letters. Her palm has tiny puncture wounds in it from squeezing it in her fist all night. I’m kissing the marks, soothing the red dents with my thumb, hoping she’s not in physical pain, when she finally opens her eyes.
“Hi,” she whispers, a timid smile on her face.
“Come here,” I say, my voice laced with concern for her, and pull her into my outstretched arms. Leaning back against her headboard, I hold my friend against my chest and rub soothing circles along her back. I brace myself for whatever she’s about to tell me. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of her being in my arms. This may very well be the last time she lets me hold her, so I’m going to memorize every part of it. Brand it in my mind so I can replay it whenever I miss my Andi.
“I’m sorry I missed breakfast,” she says.
I move my hands from her back to her shoulders and gently push her away from my chest. I want to see her face when I ask her my question. I need to make sure she’s giving me total honesty.
“Is that all you’re sorry about?”
She nods. “Yes.”
I sigh, grabbing the letters from the night stand on the side of the bed. “Andi, please don’t lie to me. If you think what happened between us was a mistake, you need to tell me. You just about brought me to my knees this morning when I walked in and saw you.”
She takes the letters from me and puts them back on the table, scooting out of my arms. “That’s just it, Miller. I don’t think it was a mistake. I was fine. I spent those few hours with you and felt alive for the first time in years. When I got home and walked in here, it hit me.” Her eyes start to tear up, but she keeps talking through it. “I didn’t think about him, or feel any guilt about what I was doing when I was with you.” Her voice gets low, the rasp becoming more pronounced. “That’s why you found me like you did. I thought I would feel bad for betraying my vows and my husband, but I didn’t.”
I catch the tears that are falling, and she leans into my hand. Relief settles into my bones. I hate the fact that she’s beating herself up about this, but I’m thrilled that she doesn’t regret us. I couldn’t live with myself if she did.
“You’re not betraying him, baby, and I’m not asking you to. I would never ask that of you. That’s not what this is. We’re keeping this nice and neat and uncomplicated, remember?”
She looks at me with a face I can’t quite get a read on, but doesn’t say anything.
“How about you get dressed and go get Charley. I promised you a breakfast date, and I don’t break my promises.”
“Look at me,” she says, pointing to her red, swollen, but no less beautiful face. “I’m not going in public. I might scare people.”
I smile at her and kiss her swollen lips. I can’t help myself. “Impossible, but we don’t have to go anywhere. I can cook here. I’ll make you my Mimi’s French toast. That’ll cure anything.”
***
“Are you trying to kill me?” I ask her, checking out the view and trying not to embarrass myself with a hard-on in the middle of the book store. She’s on the sliding ladder attached to the shelving that runs along the wall of the bookstore, straightening books on the top shelf. Her legs and a tiny strip of skin between her shirt and the waist band of her shorts are on full display, giving me a teasing glimpse of what I want right this second.
What I crave.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, whipping that wild, red hair around and I want to haul myself up that ladder and show her exactly what I’m talking about. I step up the first rung and run my hand up the back of her calf. Her warm skin feels like silk under my callused hand.
“Stop it,” she hisses, shaking her foot to try and loosen my hand, but her feistiness only encourages me to explore a little more. I step up to the second rung and my hand moves higher, traveling up the back of her thigh and disappearing up the leg of her shorts. I can hear her breath hitch when my fingers meet the outline of her panties, which I know are pale yellow silk from this morning. When my thumb grazes that sweet spot between her legs, she lets out a squeal and pushes me off the ladder.
“Do you not see that we are in front of a window?” Her cheeks are turning the color of her hair.
“And?”
“And, I would like to keep my job.”
“Well, how about you meet me in the bathroom in a few minutes so we can take care of this,” I say, cocking my head towards my pants.
She laughs a
nd shakes her head. “Really? This morning wasn’t enough for you?”
I haul her off that ladder, pull her into my arms and slam my lips into hers. I don’t care that people are floating through the store, trying to find their next great read.
“It’s never enough with you,” I breathe into her mouth. “Every time you give yourself to me, I just want more.”
Truer words have never left my mouth. Andi and I have been exploring this new side of our relationship for a while now, and I can’t satiate my need for her. The more I have her, the more I want her. I feel like a junkie, and Andi’s the only drug that can satisfy my addiction.
“You’ll have to wait your turn for me today,” she says, causing a jealousy like I’ve never known before to flare up in my veins.
“Andi, what the hell are you talking about?” I ask, my voice harsh.
“Whoa. Calm down. I’m going to talk to that advisor at school in a little while. I think I’m ready to start school again. I need to see what my options are.”
My jealousy dissipates, but the feeling is short-lived. I already feel like I don’t get enough time with Andi. Between Charley and working two jobs, she barely has time for me. If she throws school into the mix, I’ll never see her.
“Can I see you later?”
“Well, I have a date with my daughter, but I might be able to sneak away after bedtime if Celeste is home when Charley’s in bed.”
I roll my eyes at the notion. She’s still not my biggest fan, despite the fact that I’ve clearly demonstrated how much I care for Andi. I’ve made her deliriously happy these past several weeks, but Celeste can’t move past what happened in New Orleans to acknowledge it. She’s just waiting for me to fuck this up. I hate to break it to her, but I know a good thing when I’ve got it. I won’t do anything to risk what I’ve got with Andi.
The Promise of More: The Home Series, Book Three Page 15