by L. Duarte
“That’s what I said, Ella,” Dominick says.
“Let’s watch Dora,” Ella proposes, rolling her eyes just like her mother.
“No, can we watch Diego?” Dominick asks.
“Okay,” Ella shrugs and they both run to the family room.
Maritza sets a tray with coffee on the center table.
“Mom, is my navy suit here?” Mel asks.
“Yeah, I think I picked it up from the laundry awhile back and forgot to give it to you. Why, do you need it?” Maritza pours a cup of Colombian coffee and hands it to me.
“Lisa, from the homeless shelter, is going for a job interview. Since I never use the suit, I offered to give to her. She tried buying one, but Goodwill was too expensive and Salvation Army didn’t have her size,” Mel explains.
“Check your room, it should be in there.”
I watch as Mel grabs a cup of coffee and strides across the kitchen, heading down a hall.
Mr. McGee and the preacher join the group in the living room. They engage in a serious discussion on the upcoming elections. When no one is noticing me, I pad my way to Mel’s room. I haven’t talked to her since Friday, when we had dinner. Without our counseling sessions, I don’t know when I’ll get to see her. I dread the thought. I really do.
I stride along the narrow hall. The last door is open. Enthralled, I hear her pleasant voice singing a song by Elvis Presley.
I silently enter the room. She is reaching for a box on the top of her closet. My dick stirs at the sight of her gorgeous ass, perking my way. Fuck, she is hot.
She must sense my presence, because she gives up on retrieving the box, turns and, to my disappointment, she stops singing.
“Please, carry on. You have a magical voice,” I say lowly.
“No frigging way I’ll sing in front of a twenty-two time Grammy winner,” she says with a shy smile.
“Twenty-two, huh. I wonder why I only have nineteen on my shelf. I must have lost a few.”
“Oh, one of the years, you didn’t show up to the awards. But don’t they send you the trophy anyway?” she asks, intrigued.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “It’s not all that important.”
“You’re kidding, right? That’s the award for when you are it.”
“I guess.”
I see the suit on her bed still in the dry cleaner’s plastic wrap. Mel turns, stands on her tiptoes, and reaches for the box. She is unsuccessful as the tips of her fingers glide across the box. I smile and approach her from behind, easily grabbing the box.
Mel spins and faces me. She’s so close I can smell the heady flagrance of her shampoo.
“What shampoo do you use?” I ask. My fingers lightly stroke the honey curls.
“Chamomile,” she says and steps back.
“It’s so delicate and deliciously intoxicating.” I take a step forward, closing the gap between us, and trapping her against the closet. I lean in, close my eyes, bury my nose in her hair, and inhale deeply. I’ve been dying to do this since the first day I caught a whiff of her scent. When I surface, I’m on a new high. I suspect this is the most addictive thing I’ve ever used. One snort and I’m hooked for life.
“Tarry, I, um…” She looks at me, and her eyes seem frightened. But, they’re blazing too.
“So fucking beautiful.” I moan and inhale the scent of her hair again. Her eyes are fixed on mine. She is as still as the ancient Greek statue of Aphrodite of Milos. Our bodies are so close that ripples of warmth, lust, and tension billow from her to me. God, my fingers tingle with a need to touch her skin. Unlike what I usually do, I restrain myself. I know if I touch her, I’ll succumb to the desperate desire to taste her lips.
But then, a soft moan escapes her lips. It undoes me. I know the door is open but, hell, I have to have a fix of her.
I drop the box on the bed. My hands cup her face. I sense her body trembling slightly, like a captured little bird. Gently, I slide my thumb across her lips, tracing their soft and voluptuous curves. She parts her mouth. I approach slowly, my lips barely touching hers. I breathe in her breath. It is sweet and minty. I swallow hard. I have never craved something as badly as I crave her lips. I want to savor them and make it last.
I slide one hand to the nape of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair, and I draw her to me. My lips glide lightly against hers. Then, unable to control myself, I devour her lips. Liquid fire sears through my veins. My tongue savagely strokes hers. I want to consume her. I’m lost, falling hard and fast. A shudder runs through my body, and I realize I’m the captured one.
Mel rests her hand on my chest. Her fingers stroke me lightly. My heart throbs fast and ferociously under her delicate touch. I slide one of my hands to her lower back and pull her to me. I’m hard as fuck. Her body stiffens, and I know I just jumped the gun. Fuck.
Mel slithers from under my touch and ducks underneath my arm. She circles the bed, using it as a barrier between us. She is breathing irregularly, but her eyes are hard and distant. Almost resentful. Fuck.
“Please leave,” she demands and looks away.
“Mel, please, I, um…” But, what can I say? I enjoyed kissing you. I want to be in your panties more than I want a syringe of heroin. I try to calm my erratic breathing. Why didn’t I fucking control my impulses? She’s going to hate me. Fuck.
I HEAR THE deafening sound of my heart beating in my ears. After Tarry leaves, I step across the room and close the door. I lean on it and then slide down the door, dropping to the floor.
With shaking fingers, I touch my lips. I look at the room of my youth. I remember when Tim sneaked in to steal a kiss. We were fourteen. I remember when I dressed to go to prom with him. I glance at the bed, where I dreamed of being his wife and growing old and gray with him. Illusions of our fairy tale permeate the purple walls.
Unshed tears burn my eyes. What have I done? “Please forgive me, Tim,” I whisper.
A gut-wrenching pain swamps my heart. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. My mind replays the kiss. Tears spill and flood my face. The kiss is not what has me crying. I’m terrified at how I responded to Tarry’s lips against mine.
Guilt grabs my soul. No one other than Tim has ever kissed me before. My hand returns to my mouth and I gasp. How could I betray Tim this way? How am I able to enjoy the touch of another man, as much as I just did?
Determined, I make a decision to stay the hell away from Tarry. He is no good for me. First, because I know he is a player who uses and then discards women. More importantly, he shakes the foundation of my world. The attraction I have for Tarry is dangerously potent. I don’t want to ever love a man as much as I loved Tim, especially, when I’m bound to have my heart broken in the process.
Today I start “Operation Avoid Tarry.”
I clean my face and dab on a layer of lipstick. I gather the suit—along with my wits—and, with a purposeful stride, return to the living room. Tarry stands by the living-room door and is in my way. His backside is enough to accelerate my heartbeat.
“Excuse me,” I say, careful to avoid touching him as I pass through the door.
“I found it, Mom.” I force a smile. “Where is Ella? We need to head home.”
“So soon? She’s having so much fun,” Mom says.
“I want to drop off the suit. Lisa is anxious that she doesn’t have anything to wear.” I grab my purse and jacket from the closet.
“Leave Ella here, we will drop her off when we go home,” Will offers.
“Okay, I guess she’ll be happy to stay longer.”
“I want to head home too. Would you mind giving me a lift?” Tarry asks nonchalantly.
What an ass. Did he just ask me for a ride? I sense the heat spreading across my face. Thank the Lord that all eyes are fixed on him that no one notices my discomfort. Shit, he deliberately put me on the spot. If I say no, I’ll have to explain why.
“Sure, I’ll drop you off. It is on the way to the shelter anyway.” I summon my best impartial face.
F
irst phase of my operation? An epic fail.
I say a hasty good-bye, hoping that Mom or Dad don’t notice my agitation. Followed by Tarry, I head to the car.
“May I drive?” he asks and is so close that he startles me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask him, searching my purse for the keys. I do not intend to let him drive. But when I jingle the keys out, he snatches them from my hands.
“I just want to talk,” he says under his breath.
“You didn’t need to trap me and put me on the spot for that.” I yank the passenger door open and sink into the seat.
“There is nothing wrong with you giving me a ride. Besides, when would I have another opportunity to talk to you, huh?” He turns the key and the car sputters to life.
“Listen, what happened in my room is never happening again. So there is no need for an apology.”
“I wasn’t going to apologize,” he snaps.
What an arrogant prick. “Then there is nothing for us to talk about.” I’m pretty sure I’m pouting. Seriously, when did I turn into a nervous teen?
“C’mon, you liked the kiss as much as I did. Why can’t it happen again?”
Did he just say that he wants to kiss me again? God, his voice is sexy and so masculine. I feel my face turn hot and red. I turn to face the window so he can’t see my reaction to his blunt comment. I think I must be deprived. Why else would I be reacting this way?
“You caught me by surprise, that’s all,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear my heart thumping in my chest or see the sparks fly from my nerve endings.
“Bullshit. You felt the connection as much as I did. Please don’t deny it.”
For a brief moment, I sense the insecurity of his words. But he quickly regains his confidence.
“I want you, Mel. Against my better judgment, I want you. I often get what I want.” His voice is a low, sensual roar. He sounds calm. His words are as smooth and fluid as honey. For the first time since I met him, I see the reason he has earned the reputation of man whore. He sounds arrogant and conceited, but sexy as hell. I swallow hard. His words ring with the finality of a sentencing.
I turn to face him. His face is impassive, but his eyes remind me of molten steel. My insides clench. I know I’m in deep trouble because what I want right now is for him to be good to his word.
“Well, you are in for a treat, Tarry. It’s not happening. I’m not dropping my panties for you. I’m not one of your supermodel girlfriends or one of your groupies.”
“No, you are not. And that, Mel, is what makes me want you so much more,” he says with amusement in his voice.
I can see that arguing with him is pointless. I cross my arms over my chest and stare out the window.
After what seems like several minutes of silence, we finally reach the barn and he pulls over.
“Want to come in for a cup of coffee?” he asks with a smile. My lame ass melts under the rumble of his voice. God, how can someone have such a sexy voice? The pitch of his voice has a direct connection to my groin area.
“Good-bye, Tarry,” I snap, irritated with my idiotic response to his seductive tone.
He steps out of the car and I slide over to the driver’s seat. He holds open the door and stares at me. “I enjoyed that kiss, Mel. A lot. I can’t wait for the next one.”
Before I can answer, he shuts the door and disappears into the barn. Damn. Stepping on the gas, I decide to start recalculating my operation of avoidance.
ARE THEY LIKE a spring morning or honeydew? I lounge in bed, trying to decide what Mel’s lips taste like.
I tuck my arms under my head and stare at the cracks of the old ceiling. Goddamnit, I want that woman the way I’ve never wanted anything or anyone else in my entire life.
Mel is pure and refreshing. When she looks at me with slivers of fire sparkling in her eyes, I want to lose myself in her.
I’m pretty sure I have a foolish grin splattered across my face, just like the preacher. One thing I know for damn sure. I’m hard as fuck and my lips tingle with a desperate need for more of hers. Strangely, while she has been helping me kick my drug habit, she’s more like a drug than anything I’ve used before. But she’s the type of drug that, instead of sending me into oblivion, sends me on a high of spinning emotions. I’m afraid there is no recovery for it.
I sit up and grab my guitar and Moleskine notebook. I idly scratch my chest as a new melody floods my mind and the words flow. My old conception of life collapses with a new and fascinating universe where Mel is the focal point. Though it’s foreign and surreal, it makes me hear notes I’ve never heard before.
After hours of composing, I pull the covers over my tired body and continue thinking about Mel. The faint smell of her chamomile shampoo lingers on me. I close my eyes, reminiscing about our kiss.
With her beautiful face in my thoughts, I drift to a sleep filled with new, beautiful dreams.
“GOOD MORNING,” I say while opening the unlocked kitchen door to Portia’s house. She is already up. Dominick is an early bird.
“Good morning to you.” She flashes me a smile.
“Is Will in?” I ask and grab a slice of bacon.
“Yeah, he is showering.” From the stove, she raises an eyebrow. “What got you up so early?”
“I went to bed early last night. And, for the life of me, I had a really good night of sleep.”
“Grab some coffee.” She points to the coffee maker.
“Thanks.” I pour the Colombian coffee in a large mug and sit on the barstool.
Portia focuses on flipping pancakes. She switches her weight from one foot to the other. I can sense that she wants to ask me something, probably about Mel. I had hoped she wouldn’t ask. Shit, what am I supposed to say?
“Do you think Will’s offer to lend me his old Jeep still stands?” I ask.
“Of course, but why have you changed your mind?” she asks with suspicion.
“I’m starting to train with Lucas tonight. If I’m staying here for a while, I figure I shouldn’t be bothering you or Will for a ride everywhere I need to go.”
“You know it’s not a bother. But, I’m glad you want to have the car and be independent to go places. It’s unhealthy to stay cooped up with a toddler and a pregnant woman all day long.” She smirks.
“C’mon, peaches. There is nothing unhealthy about spending time with two of my favorite people.” I drink from the strong brew. Damn, Portia even likes strong coffee, just like Will’s family.
“So, you’re going to train?”
“Yeah, even though last week’s class was a fiasco, it reminded me how good it feels to break a sweat.”
“Does Mel have anything to do with your new disposition?” she finally asks.
“Yeah, she does. Mel is a great motivator. You know that.”
“Just be careful, Tarry. I love you both equally, and I don’t want either one of you to get hurt.”
“There is nothing for you to worry about, Portia.”
“I noticed the way you two looked at each other last night, Tarry.”
“It was nothing, Portia.”
“Listen, Tarry, it is none of my business. But please, don’t hurt her or get hurt along the way, okay?”
“Good morning, Tarry,” Will says as he enters the kitchen. He slides his arms around Portia’s waist and snuggles her neck. “Hmm, baby, what smells so good?”
“Your favorite. My stomach is behaving, so I cooked a decent breakfast.” She grins adoringly at Will.
“You’re the best, ya know.” He kisses her lips. “Where is my little guy?”
“He went looking for you and must have gotten distracted along the way. Where is the key to the Jeep? Tarry has decided to borrow it.”
Will retrieves a key chain from a hook on the wall, removes a key, and tosses it to me.
“Here, man.”
“Thanks, Will.” I attach the key to my key chain.
A few times as we’re eating breakfast, I catch myself thin
king of Mel.
After eating, I go back to the barn. I scroll my contact list searching for the doctor who is supposed to oversee me while I’m in Connecticut. Last night I forgot to take my medication. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the awful symptoms that besiege me when I skip a dose. I want to be able to stop the damn medication. I guess my body is beginning to return to a normal state.
With renewed energy, I hang up the phone. Tomorrow I’ll go see the doctor. I hope he discontinues some of the drugs. If I’m to be drug free, I want to be off prescription meds as well.
MY PERSONAL TRAINING session with Lucas is at seven in the evening. But at a quarter of six, I pull the red Jeep in front of Groove’s. I overheard Mel say that she teaches a class at six and I’m desperate to see her.
I climb out of the car and stride inside the building. I see some women stretching. Without knocking, I open the office door.
The sight of Mel knocks the wind out of me. With her back toward the door, it appears as if she’s selecting the playlist for her class. She wears a long skirt. Jingling bells hang low on her hips and on her arms.
“Lucas, where is the new belly dancing CD, I brought in last week?” she asks without looking behind her.
I close the door and stand silently, examining her perfect figure. Yes, my dick gets hard, but that’s nothing new, Mel seems to make me hard just by breathing.
Noticing a lack of response, she swirls around and faces me. The jingling of bells is sexy as hell.
She gasps when she sees me. “Oh, it’s you! What are you doing here?”
I don’t answer. I’m drinking in the sight of her. She wears a small tank top, only covering the generous swell of her breasts. Her toned abdomen is exposed. On her hips, I see the rim of tattoos peeking from the top of the skirt. My body shudders with the anticipation of touching her hips and uncovering her tattoos.
I lean against the closed door and my lips turn into a cocky smile.
“And I thought that you wearing your police uniform was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.” I sound every bit as horny as I feel. A pretty shade of pink spreads from her chest to her face. I smile inwardly. She is a bit affected by me, though she won’t admit it.