Darker Water

by Lauren Stewart

  “And when I say, ‘No?’” He held back a second longer before leaning down to my neck and running his lips across my skin. I tilted my head farther back to give him more room to maneuver.

  “I’ll say, ‘Are you actually going to let me into your apartment or are you planning to do me in the stairwell?’”

  “Then I’ll say, ‘I have a very big, very empty bed to do you in and—” Groaning, he pushed himself backwards and adjusted his cock. “Shit. We need to stop talking or I’m going to carry you upstairs over my shoulder. Which, as much as I want to do, is something I can’t. I wish Anna hadn’t been such a bitch but I need to—”

  “You need to do whatever you need to do.”

  “No, I need to do one of the things I need to do. I’m praying that the other thing I need to do with the person I need to do it with will still be available to me when I can do it. Because I’m not sure I’ve ever needed to do anything this badly before.”

  “Then I guess you should ask that person very, very nicely.”

  “Oh, I intend to be nicer to her than any man has ever been.”

  “God, I hope you can do better than that,” I said, typing my number into his phone.

  “Ouch.” He grimaced, then kissed me lightly. “Believe me, I can. You are a beautiful and complicated woman, Lane.” His next kiss was harder. “Say thank you.”

  “Thank you.” It was more moaned than said. I couldn’t remember ever wanting someone this much either, and I knew next to nothing about him. But what I did know, I really, really liked. He was blistering hot, funny, smart—

  No! My body tightened when I felt the unwanted warmth of emotion go through me. I couldn’t let my curse ruin another man.

  “You’re not a nice guy, right?” I asked, pushing him away. “I mean you seem nice, but that’s only because you want to get in my pants. Once you’ve done that, you’ll stop being nice, right?” My voice sounded frantic, desperate.

  “Umm… I’m not sure how nice I am, but I am sure that I’m one-hundred percent screwed up and without a doubt the worst possible man a woman could ever have a relationship with. If I did relationships, which I don’t. And I’ve never broken anyone’s heart because I don’t stick around long enough to create any of those feelings. Does that make you feel better?”

  I blew out a breath. “Yeah. Thanks. Just make sure you stay that way, okay?”

  “Four times more intriguing,” he said, cocking his head slightly. “At least.”

  Oh shit. I needed to get out of here before I said something stupid like…any of the things that were flying through my head at the moment.

  “Okay, bye.” That was embarrassingly lame, but at least it got me moving.

  The rest of the way downstairs and the whole way home, I played a mental recording of what he’d said: He was no good. He wouldn’t stick around. He was there for one reason and one reason only. But even all that wasn’t working.

  I wasn’t cut out for this. I’d never had a one-night stand before and, evidently, there was a very good reason for that. I couldn’t separate the physical from the emotional, sex from love. Talking dirty and kissing in the stairwell, and I was already feeling butterflies. Stupid, toxic butterflies. I couldn’t let myself turn into a weak doormat again. After months of feeling okay with myself and being alone, it should’ve taken at least an hour for me to turn into mush. Definitely longer than fifteen minutes.

  When he called, if he called, I’d tell him I changed my mind. He’d probably be disappointed for three whole minutes until he found somebody else. Someone who wasn’t such an idiot.

  Chapter 3 - Carson

  Jesus. What the hell just happened? I’d kissed, touched, fucked a lot of women. But I’d never been that desperate for more.

  Probably a shift in the weather, or I was coming down with something. Maybe she’d just given me the flu…in two minutes. Sure. My body aches were all in my cock and abs and I didn’t have a fever, but, sure, it could be the flu. Actually, there’d been more heat than I remembered feeling in a long time, and I’d felt a slight shortness of breath near the end of the kiss. So yeah, I should probably relax, drink a lot of liquids—obviously the alcoholic kind—take a cold shower, and go to bed. Alone.

  I didn’t want to go to bed alone. But she was already gone.

  I stopped staring in the direction she’d gone and walked back upstairs. Something was definitely wrong with me. It wasn’t overtaking the lust because that was never going to happen, but it seemed to hook itself onto it. I didn’t know what the feeling was but I knew what it wasn’t. I didn’t do relationships. I didn’t want to cuddle or share or find out why she was the way she was.

  Except I really, really did. Fuck.

  What I’d said to her was completely true: She was beautiful and complicated, normally not a good combination. But I wasn’t looking for long term—I was looking for one, maybe two, nights. That wasn’t overly complicated.

  Lane was funny. Something about her… What the hell was wrong with me?

  My wicked stepsister huffed when I pushed by her to unlock the door to my place.

  “Nice attitude on that girl,” she said.

  “You called her a whore, Anna. What did you expect?” I didn’t invite her in, but I left the door open. “I thought she was too polite.”

  She tossed her bag onto a side table and went into the kitchen to get something to drink. “You used to stand up for me.”

  I laughed, unamused. Not gonna touch that one. “You look nice.”

  “I have a new boyfriend.”

  The words instantly made me sick. “Who is he?” Someone rich—that was a requirement. Attractive. Possibly married. Make that probably married, because there’s nothing Anna enjoyed more than competition and misogynists.

  “No one you know.”

  “That’s not surprising considering I don’t know anyone you know.”

  “Except your mom.”

  “Okay, then I don’t talk to anyone you know,” I grumbled.

  “Renee wants you to call her.” She set two wine glasses onto the counter and took out a bottle, grimacing at a 2006 Pinot Noir and putting it back before taking out another. And another. And another. Until she found one to her liking. The bottles were for guests, and as far as I knew, guests were wanted. So Anna wasn’t a guest.

  Not that I wanted the wine either—I’d been doing the prohibition thing for two whole weeks. And not going out meant I’d been doing the abstinence thing for two weeks, too. Which was why I was so incredibly happy to meet Lane and so incredibly unhappy to see Anna.

  “I send her a check every month so I don’t have to do that.” One for her and one, occasionally two, for Anna—despite my financial consultants advising against writing such fat checks to two women who were such talented shoppers.

  “You know I’d be more than happy to send the check to you directly from the bank like everyone else in the world does, right?” I asked. “Then you wouldn’t have to come over here.” Even a year after moving out, Anna still made the trip over here twice a month if I was lucky, more frequently if I wasn’t.

  “But then I would never see you.” She handed me a glass of wine I didn’t want. “I miss you, Carson.”

  “Why? Doesn’t your new boyfriend buy you things?”

  “Did that woman find you amusing? No wonder you ran after her—you finally found someone who thinks you have a sense of humor.”

  “Yeah, I figured someone laughing at my jokes would be a nice change. You know, since I already have someone using me for my wallet.” I nodded to her. She’d only officially been my stepsister for two years, eight years ago, and was only a few months younger than me, but I’d always felt responsible for her. And would probably always give her money.

  “Speaking of…” I said. “If you aren’t a fan of the postal service, I could leave the check at the lawyer’s office. I’m sure they miss you, too.”

  “Sure they do.” She sat on my couch and set her wine down. “We onl
y have each other, Carson. You know that. From the day we met, you’ve known that.”

  Had I? Did I owe her more than I was already giving? No. Would I give her more? Absolutely. Unfortunately, Anna was my biggest weakness, and that was saying a lot considering how many weaknesses I had.

  “Remember when you brought Adrienne Mackey over?” she asked. “And I snuck her out when my dad heard you guys going at it? It must have been a few months before he and your mom split up, so we were about…” She looked up at the ceiling for the answer.

  “We were seventeen. And I’ve always considered that move a grade-A cock-block. There was never any proof your dad knew she was there.”

  “Oh my god, that was so not a cock-block! Adrienne was practically screaming two minutes after you closed the door—the entire neighborhood knew she was there.” She leaned back and took a sip of wine. “I’ve always wondered what you did to make her scream like that, but I don’t want to know. If I did, I’d never be able to get that visual out of my head.” She grimaced. “Plus, I don’t get your taste in women at all. Adrienne was such a skank.”

  “She was your best friend!”

  “Duh, that’s how I know she was a skank.” She laughed and damn her, I did too. It was nice to see her smile—rare, and nice. And she was one-hundred percent right about Adrienne, which was exactly why I’d snuck her into the house.

  “What’s your point here, Anna?”

  “I saved you from getting whatever horrible disease you would’ve gotten back then. And I saved you again tonight.”

  “Lane’s not like that. She’s—”

  “Oh god! I’m gonna vomit in my mouth if you say she’s ‘different’.”

  I wasn’t. I was going to say she’s smart and the kind of person neither Anna nor I would ever really understand. “I get to decide who I sleep with. You get to decide who you sleep with. I think that’s how we should keep things.”

  She talked for a while, as if she thought I was actually listening. I may have even nodded off, but when I opened my eyes again, she was still sitting next to me.

  I cut her off mid-sentence. “Why are you here?”

  “Since you never answered your phone when Scott called,” she said, annoyed, “he called your mom. Since you never answered your phone when she called, she called me. Since you—”

  “Yeah, I get it. Can you tell me what Scott wants or is his message going to be warped from going through so many dysfunctional people?” I already knew what Scott wanted. Only three reasons your family lawyer calls: money or trouble or both. And in this case, both were completely my fault. My own stupidity, a horrible conversation with my mother, and my terrible judgment about when I’d had too much to drink. Thus my new and incredibly inconvenient just-say-no attitude.

  “Something about you needing to sign a check and the nondisclosure agreement. Or… The guy you tried to kill signs that, not you, right?”

  “I didn’t—” I didn’t know what I’d tried to do. I still didn’t remember how the fight started or what happened after that. But evidently it was over a woman, not a big surprise considering all men test the limits of our stupidity whenever a woman’s involved. Supposedly, I didn’t start the fight and tried to talk the guy down, but once it was on, it was on. I woke up without a scratch and he woke up in the hospital. So I guess I won.

  “Relax,” Anna said. “Sign the papers, write a check, and it’s done.”

  It would never be done. I just didn’t know what to do about it except stay farther away from trouble. Since my friends were the fuckers who always goaded me into getting wasted and stupid with them, I’d stopped going out completely. Unfortunately, that limited my opportunities to get laid.

  Which reminded me… I had a very beautiful, very complicated woman to call.

  “Anna?” I waited until she looked up and smiled. “You need to fuck off now.”

  “Always the gentleman, aren’t you?” She stood and got her bag. “You’ll call Scott and your mom?”

  “No.”

  “Carson, you really—”

  “Good seeing you, Anna,” I said. As soon as I’d slammed the door, I called Lane. She picked up on the third ring.

  “Hey, it’s Carson.”

  “Oh, hi.” Her voice wasn’t as excited as it had been. What’d I expect after some foreplay up against a concrete wall in a cold stairwell before telling her I had to go talk to the crazy woman who’d just called her a whore? Fortunately, I’m persistent when I want something.

  “Anna is gone. And... What was the other thing?” Right. “I have a big bed. It’s empty. Needs you in it.”

  She laughed, but didn’t sound happy.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I don’t think I can do the casual thing. Sorry. Take—”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up.” What was I doing? Take her obvious hint and hang up the fucking phone. But I didn’t. “We don’t have to have sex. We could just hang out.” Oh shit, I really just said that.

  “Have you ever just hung out with a woman before? Without having sex with her?”

  “No, but I don’t see a reason it couldn’t happen.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “We can meet in public. You’ll be perfectly safe as long as we stay away from sex shops and mattress stores.” Probably.

  She didn’t respond right away. “I’m not sure.”

  “One time. Test run. If it’s too weird or I can’t control myself, we can shake hands and part ways.” Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to control myself. In public or not. There was no way I could be within three feet of her and not touch her. Just to see if the jolt I’d felt when we kissed was real. If it was, I’d get hard just imagining what everything beyond a kiss would feel like.

  She sighed. “I get a cup of coffee at Bella everyday on my way home from work.”

  “I’ll buy you tonight’s.”

  “I’m already home and it’s ten o’clock.”

  Damn. Had Anna been here that long? “Tomorrow.”

  “Just to be clear—we’re not going to sleep together.”

  “Right.” I hung up and spent the rest of the evening thinking of a way to make her change her mind.

  Chapter 4 - Laney

  I spun my head towards Carson when I heard him yell, “Don’t let her pay for that,” to the barista.

  “If you buy a woman coffee,” I said as soon as I didn’t have to yell, “she might think it’s a date.”

  “I take it back!” He pulled back, hands at two and ten. “That was a close one. Thanks.”

  “Since that’s something neither of us are interested in, I think I’ll get my own.”

  “Cool, would you pay for mine, too?” He laughed at the shock on my face. “Relax, Lane. I was kidding.”

  “Once we’ve established the rules and are settled into things, feel free to offer again.” What was I doing establishing rules for anything? Or settling into anything? I walked over to the counter that held the cream and sugar. After he paid for his own cup, he followed and watched me while I doctored up my coffee.

  “Wow. So the coffee is just a vehicle for the cream and sugar?”

  “They don’t have a Grande Cream and Sugar on their menu, so I have to improvise.”

  He picked the same spot I’d been in yesterday. “I meant to get here earlier so I could put up a big ‘We’re not going to sleep together’ sign. But it was so crazy at work, I forgot to pick it up.”

  “What do you do?” I asked as I sat down across from him.

  “I thought you didn’t like small talk.”

  “We’re trying to get to know each other. That’s what friends do.”

  “I have friends. We meet, get drunk, and watch each other make fools of ourselves. There’s a fair amount of pointing and laughing involved, too.”

  “That’s what friends do when all of them are boys. When one of them is a woman, there’s more talking involved. So tell me what you did today.”

&n
bsp; He paused.

  I wiped a drop of coffee from my lip. “Would you be more comfortable if I pointed and laughed while you answer?”

  “Um…” His eyes came back up to mine. “I went to the…place I work. Then I worked. Ate lunch. Worked some more. Went somewhere else to help someone with a problem they were having. And then came here.”

  “Well done, but next time try being more vague.” I laughed. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. But just in case you do but don’t know how to talk to a woman who’s clothed, I’ll show you how it’s done. I have a small furniture business. I know: it’s a weird profession for a girl and it must be so boring, right? Well yeah, not too many women do it, but it’s definitely not boring. I like it a lot. It’s the business part of it I hate, and that’s the part that could be going a lot better.

  “Today I got up, took a shower, and went to work. I had lunch and kept working. Then I stopped working and came here. Just like I do every night, because I need to get out and I think interaction with people is important.” I shook my head dismissively. “Even though I don’t really interact anymore. And that is my current life. Wanna give yours another shot?”

  “I run the fundraising for the Bennett Foundation.”

  My mouth dropped open. The Bennett Foundation raised money for families of hospitalized kids. “You’re such a liar! You said you weren’t nice.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Anyone who works for a charity has to be nice.”

  “I thought you were referring to me in my private life, not my professional one.”

  “So you’re a saint during the day and a sinner by night?”

  “Besides saint going a big step too far, I sometimes work at night.” He shrugged. “And I’d be happy to sin during the day if you ask really nicely, but only when I’m not working because the two should never, ever mix.” He paused. “You now know my horrible secret. So how’d I do?”

  “It was great. You should be really proud of yourself—you didn’t stutter or explode or anything.”

  He leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “I’m new to this being-friends-with-someone-I-want–to-sleep-with thing, so you’ll have to help me out. What happens now?”