Get to You

by Albany Walker

  I moisturize my skin thoroughly and clean my old nail polish off. This familiar routine grounds me.

  I step out of the bathroom, intent on making a real cup of coffee. I turn on my larger speakers and plug in my phone. I am about to select a playlist when I hear a gentle tapping near the front door. I look at the clock, seeing over an hour has passed since I kicked him out. There is no other explanation of who else it would be.

  18

  I call, "Beau" through the door, before realizing I have the monitor on the wall to look at the camera angles in the hall. I tap the screen to wake it up and select one of the six camera icons on the screen.

  Beau is sitting on the floor next to the door with his head back exposing the line of his throat. His wrists rest on his bent knees. If I hadn't heard the tapping, I'd say he was sleeping because his eyes are closed, and he hasn't moved in the time I've been watching him.

  I'm not sure if I'm happy he stayed or pissed he didn't leave.

  The slight tapping happens again, but he hasn't moved to cause it. I see him lean to the side, pulling his phone from a back pocket. He tosses it to the floor, and it lands between his legs. He does this without opening his eyes. The phone lights up causing the noise I heard and assumed was knocking. From the way it vibrates in an on/off pattern he must be ignoring a call. I decide to test the theory. I rush to my phone and open the messaging app.

  Why are you sitting on the floor?

  I look back to the screen to see if he'll ignore the s message. After only a moment he cracks his eyes open and rubs his palms up and down his dark wash jeans. He's changed cloths from earlier.

  My tummy tips. The image of him dressing with Tasha around or in the same room, unsettles me. I shake my head to clear it and watch as he reaches down and flips the phone over without picking it up. He pushes the circle and looks at the screen. He snatches the phone up and looks around. His eyes settling on one of the cameras in the hall. He looks back at the phone and starts typing.

  Because I'm an asshole.

  I almost laugh when I read the message. Before another comes through.

  It’s not safe for you to be alone.

  I respond quickly, thumbing the touch tone keyboard.

  Beau, what are we doing?

  It's harder to watch him now that he knows. I stare at my phone, waiting for a response instead. It takes a few seconds before it vibrates again.

  I'm hoping you'd let me apologize.

  Should I? I type instead.

  What if it doesn't matter that you're sorry?

  Being sorry for something rarely changes the outcome. I've found that being sorry for getting caught isn't the same as regretting it. The screen on the wall monitor is black. I'm tempted to tap it, to see if he's still there. At least five minutes has passed since my last message was typed. He hasn't responded.

  There's a sharp rapping on the door, and I have my answer.

  I unlock and open the door to find Beau standing on the other side. His hair is disheveled and his shoulders slumped.

  I stand back and let him through the door. He doesn't pass. Instead he crowds in close, wrapping his arms around me. I'm surprised by the quick turn. I find myself accepting his embrace. As soon as my arms go around his neck, he lifts me up and moves us a few feet, so he can kick the door closed. He sets me back down. He puts both of his hands on my face and forces me to look up at him.

  "I should have been more up front about where I was staying. I should have made it clear to her that I didn't and still don't want a relationship. I should have handled everything that happened tonight after we left here differently." He blows out a long breath and brings my head to his chest wrapping his arms around my back. "I was so fucking mad at the shit she was saying, I just snapped. When I started yelling at her, she just smiled at me with this big satisfied grin. I freaked out thinking about what you'd think of me, yelling at her, and when I turned around to explain, you were gone.”

  I pull back and look up to his face. He looks down and our eyes meet.

  “I had no idea when you had left so I grabbed my bag and threw my shit in hoping you'd be waiting for me downstairs.” His hands hold onto my shoulder, and he gives me a slight squeeze. “I couldn't find you. I called a cab to bring me here, but you didn't answer so I called Brian." I am unsure of his explanation because I didn't hear him yell a single word at her before I left. Did he really? I didn't want him to yell at her, but it’s nice that he at least defended me in some way.

  "I stayed with him for a while and tried to get ahold of you. I want your fucking phone number by the way. I was worried." He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, "Brian just told you not to go off by yourself, and you didn't answer your door or messages. I started panicking, thinking something happened to you. Don't do that again." He scolds, "I don't care if you're mad at me or what's happening. You can't run off alone." Beau admonishes me, and it bugs me even though I know he's probably right. I roll my eyes to let him know I think he's being a little over the top. "I'm serious Samantha. Don't do it."

  When I push back from him, his face softens. "Please," he adds gently.

  I huff, but nod. I'm still conflicted about everything that happened, but at least he's offering a real explanation.

  I take a few steps back from Beau and walk towards the kitchen with him following. It's almost four in the morning. My lack of sleep is catching up to me. When I look over at Beau he’s yawning. It’s obvious he hasn't had any sleep.

  “We still have some stuff to talk about, but I think we could both use some sleep," I mutter while turning my coffee maker off and grabbing two waters from the fridge. I hand him a bottle then walk over to my bed and grab an extra blanket from the trunk at the end of it. I grab a pillow from my bed and walk back to him.

  He looks at the quilt in my hand and then over to my bed. He doesn't say anything as I place it on the sofa.

  "So, you need anything else?" I ask, before grabbing my water and heading back to my bedroom space.

  His eyes twinkle before he squints and says, "Nah, thanks. I'm good." It feels kind of awkward standing about, so I turn to my dresser and grab a short cotton nightgown from the top drawer. I leave him to go into the bathroom and slide it on.

  When I step out, Beau has already laid down. I walk over and turn the light off. His eyes are closed, and his lips are barely parted. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I hope sleep comes as easily for me.

  I lay down in my bed and try to fall back asleep, but my thoughts circle. I'm happy he's here, but still I worry about my feelings for him. I've never experienced the level of jealousy I did tonight. I sigh, knowing the answers won't come to me now. I turn my attention to the contentedness I feel just sitting on the sofa next to him, the way his lips feel when he gives me those gentle kisses on my temple.

  I fall asleep to these thoughts.

  I wake up unusually warm and kick my legs, looking for a cool piece of fabric, but my heel connects with a warm leg instead. I freeze. Beau came back last night. I made him sleep on the couch. I look over to where he should be and see the blanket piled on one end of the cushions. His pants and shirt are in a heap on the floor. I turn my head slowly to see him lying beside me and wonder how he was able to climb into bed without waking me.

  I think back to all the times Rita would come in my room in the mornings and how venerable it made me feel.

  My mind wanders back to the first few times we met. I think the only reason I even let him get close to me was because I didn’t think he was actually interested in me. How did it get here, I wonder.

  The sun is high shining through the numerous windows. I move to my side, folding my arms to pillow my head, so I can easily look up at Beau. He is on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, the other hand rests low on his belly. There is a light stubble on his chin and jaw that's a few shades darker than the light hair on his head. His breathing is slow and steady, and I let my eyes linger on every inch I can see in a
way that I wouldn't be comfortable doing if he was awake. Even at rest his body is a work of art with each muscle clearly defined as if flexing. I curl my hand under my chin and watch him sleep. It feels deeply intimate seeing him completely unguarded. I can't believe he snuck in my bed. Did he think I was being harsh asking him to sleep on the couch, or was he just uncomfortable? The reason doesn't matter though, because I'm happy this is where he ended up.

  The events of the last few weeks roll through my mind, and I realize how badly I want to make things work. I feel a connection with Beau that borders on fantasy. I'm not sure if I am ready to have someone in my life, but something about lying here with Beau makes me feel certain. My heart rate picks up when I let myself dwell on the depth of my feelings for him. I think I'm falling in love with him. I close my eyes and pray that I'm strong enough to handle whatever is happening between us.

  My panic attack last night worries me. I've been able to keep them at bay for almost a year. My stress levels have tripled over the last few months, between work, the flowers and now Beau, I've been wound a little tight. I need to simplify some things. I continue to think while watching him sleep.

  Starting with where he and I stand. Maybe if I have a clear definition I'll be able to relax a bit, but I'm so clueless when it comes to relationships. I'm not sure if it's too early to have the talk about our status. I do know it's way too early to drop the three little words I haven't said to anyone since Rita, and never in the way I would mean saying them to him.

  I've been awake for nearly a half an hour when Beau's hand moves down his belly. He cups himself and groans. His hand doesn't linger but lets go, pulling back and turning to his side. He arches his back, stretching as he wakes. He buries his face in the pillow. He rolls onto his belly, both arms go up under his head, and his leg kicks out a bit when he brings his knee up. The comforter barely covers the top of his butt. If I pulled it down a few inches, I'd get to see his delectable buns.

  My fingers tug just the tiniest bit, and I'm rewarded when the blanket slides down and stops at the top of his thighs. I lift up my head and lay it on the middle of his back. My chin is cradled by the muscles of his back, I look up and see a small crescent shaped scar beneath his shoulder blade. It is almost impossible for me not to trace it with my finger nail.

  I lick my lips looking down at the rest of him. If I was braver, I'd like nothing more than to lick the birthmark the rests right below the dimples of his lower back.

  Deciding I've ogled him long enough, I get out of bed slowly. I quietly drape the sheet back over him to alleviate some of my temptation.

  I start the coffee maker and grab a book I started a few days ago. Seeing the lack of polish on my nails, I grab a bottle of polish and paint my nails while enjoying my first cup of coffee while he sleeps.

  I'm on my second cup when Beau makes a low growling moan and flips his face to the side. His arm fans down to the side as he feels the empty expanse of bed next to him.

  He lifts on his elbows and asks, "Sammy?" His voice deliciously gruff. He looks over his shoulder and finds me curled up on the sofa with my book.

  "Morning," I say in a low husky voice that has little to do with lack of use.

  He grins and drops back down to the mattress, "How much trouble am I in for sneaking into your bed?" His question comes out muffled with half his face being smashed to the pillow. I don't even bother answering. If I told the truth it would only encourage him.

  Beau finally turns over, the sheet tents at his groin. I blush and look away.

  "What time is it baby?" He drawls. I secretly swoon before looking at the clock to answer.

  "Just after ten."

  He grumbles, "How long have you been awake, and why didn't you wake me up?"

  "I got more sleep than you did. I thought you needed it." I answer distractedly as I watch his hand move under the covers.

  "You have any plans today?" He asks and sits forward, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. My mouth drys when he stands, and I see the impressive bulge in the front of his tight, black shorts. "Sweets," he says, reminding me he asked a question.

  "Uh, huh?" He chuckles and saunters from my bed, taking his time covering the space between us.

  His body is sleek, and he moves with a grace that seems choreographed. I drop the book I was engrossed in just moments before. My neck cranes up the closer he gets.

  Standing before me he bends down and runs his hand through my long waves, brushing them back from my face.

  Beau drops to a knee, his face almost even with mine. His thumb strokes over my bottom lip. He pulls back, and I lick the same path. His green eyes follow the movement, and his tongue peeks out right before he bites his full bottom lip then releases it slowly.

  "Will you spend the day with me Sammy?" I find myself nodding. Unable to speak. Beau leans forward, his intention clear. I can’t refuse him. I'm dazzled by him and the way he makes me feel, like I'm desirable, like he wants me as much as I want him.

  The kiss is slow and claiming. He owns my mouth with every touch of his tongue and lips. I know I will never feel this with any other man.

  Beau cradles my face as his thumb rubs my cheek and his other hand moves to the nape of my neck. The hold becomes firm, but his mouth his still gentle on mine. My hands wrap around his shoulders. I break the kiss and take a deep breath.

  He nuzzles right behind my ear. Both of my hands rise up over his shoulders, and I run my palms up the sides of his neck as I kiss and lick his throat. He leans back, allowing me access. I feel him swallow with the flat of my tongue. I shiver, remembering how badly I wanted to feel that a few short weeks ago. Beau's hands grip my hips, squeezing and releasing.

  "Ah sweets, I'm trying to be good, but I want to be inside you. We have to stop." His voice is low, and his words are slow, like he doesn't want to say them. The fog recedes slowly from my mind as he drops his forehead to mine and takes a few steadying breaths while my hands still cling to his neck. I pant from the desire coursing through my veins. I squeeze my thighs together and wiggle, trying to find any relief from the ache he's caused.

  "Fuck, don't do that," He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "I wanna make that better," he whispers almost to himself. His hands pull my hips forward and he wedges his torso between my knees. "I can take that away," he purrs and swivels his hips, giving me a small taste, but there is still too much distance between us to truly feel him. The noise I make can only be described as a whimper. His body jerks when he hears it. "Fuuuck," he coos like he's saying the sweetest endearment.

  "Beau," I plead, not sure for what.

  "I got you baby," he whispers looking up at me. My short nightgown is bunched up by my hips, leaving my green panties exposed. I wiggle against him, and his eyes zero in on the movement to the apex of my thighs. My fingers burrow into his hair, tugging lightly to bring his head to my chest. He inhales and closes his eyes. He blinks them open slowly and looks up into my eyes and moves closer to the tip of my breast and bites me through the fabric. I arch up to him and then down lower. His fingers drum over my ribs then he continues on his path. I'm desperate. His jaw is taut, but other than that, there is no evidence he's struggling with his body the way I am.

  His movements are slow and deliberate as he watches my face every time he grinds his hardness in between my thighs. I want him as frantic as I am.

  Beau slides one hand between my legs and toys with the elastic on my inner thigh. My hips roll, trying to bring him closer, but his other hand clamps to clamp over my thigh stilling my movement.

  "Beau I want to feel you," a tremor works its way up his body, and his eyes darken

  "Samantha," a warning is clear in his tone, but I don't know what he's threatening, and I'm too lost in feeling to care. My hands release his hair and move over my own body. I cup my breast and feel my nipples against my palms. My nightgown sleeve dips past my shoulders, and I shiver.

  I need something, anything right now. My eyes close, and my back arches. I feel
his eyes on me, his breath ghosts over my cheek, but he doesn't stop me. He doesn’t put his hands where I need them. I make a frustrated sound and move one of my hands down. As soon as my finger tips delve under the waistband of my panties, Beau's hand grabs mine.

  "I want this, sweets. It's mine, right?" He leans forward, his bare chest brushing against my cheek.

  My hands move over his back.

  "Yes, yours," I agree easily as I run my tongue over his chest. I feel his small, hard nipple that I circle with my tongue.

  Beau sucks in a breath, and I use my teeth. His hips jerk, hitting the sofa below me.

  "You are pushing me sweets," he growls and leans away. I'm so tempted to tell him I don't care if he has a condom, that I'm on birth control, but I try and keep my sanity at least for the time being. Beau leans his large frame over mine and scoops me up by my bottom. I cling to his back, my legs instinctually wrapping around his waist as he walks us back to my bed.

  When my back hits the soft mattress I lessen my hold on him. It was exhilarating being carried by him.

  Beau climbs over me and lines up our bodies. He makes a low rumbling sound making my toes curl.

  "God, you feel so good," he mummers while grinding against me. I nod thinking the same about him.

  "Still no condom?" I ask and tilt my pelvis up so I can feel his erection between the fabric as it rubs my wet folds. I brush against his tip.

  He groans and drops his head to my shoulder. Shaking his head back and forth, Beau moves his hand over my hip and down to my butt. Where he pulls me tighter to him and rocks against me.

  I reach down between us. I push the band of his boxer briefs down and grip him in my hand. With him between my legs I can finally feel his velvet soft tip bare on my inner thigh. I rub him against my damp panties giving us both pleasure.

  "Ugh," he grunts, working his hips and pushing into my hand.

  My legs are parted so wide. My head tips back and my back arches. I'm so lost in the feeling that I stop moving my hand and just absorb the blissful awareness of him.