Here/Now

by D. D. Lorenzo

  Pushing her against the wall, he held both of her wrists over her head with one hand while the other slid to the dip of her hip. He pressed forward, continuing down to the source of her heat. Her reactions were a potent aphrodisiac and he feared he’d never get enough.

  Just as his fingers traveled down and inside, her eyes popped open and she placed her palms on his shoulders.

  “Carter,” she whispered.

  Though he could feel her tense up he ignored her pleas, hoping, urging her not to think, only feel.

  “Carter,” she again said, this time even more breathless, but firm.

  He knew she was aroused, yet she moved her hand to his wrist, immobilizing his efforts.

  “Carter, please,” she breathed.

  “Please… stop.”

  “Manny… please stop.”

  Marisol was overwhelmed. It was almost too much information for her to process. Slightly unnerved she sat looking at him across the table. He had begun to explain the possible loophole in her case. The legal jargon went over her head. She couldn’t care less about how he got her out of there, only that he was successful in doing so. He had connections. He also had money. The combination of the two could secure just about anything.

  Manny had been informed that the details of her arrest wouldn’t only unravel her case, but would secure her freedom. Of course he had an ulterior motive. He would take possession of something he’d recently developed a taste for—Marianna.

  “It’s possible, chica,” he informed. “It’s a stretch but it could lay the groundwork for your release. I’m in the process of getting the video of your interrogation. You told me that when you were arrested you didn’t understand some of the things they told you, correct?”

  She nodded.

  “What did you say when they asked if you understood?” he inquired.

  She thought for a moment. “I remember yelling at them,” she said.

  He laughed at the mental picture she conjured. “Of that I have no doubt! Try to remember what you said.”

  All at once she looked down at her hands, biting her lip as she was deep in thought. “They handcuffed me and said I had a right to do this or that. Then they asked me if I understood, and I said I couldn’t understand anything—he sounded like he had mierda—shit—in his mouth.”

  Manny laughed hard, irritating her. “What does it have to do with anything?” she asked.

  He leaned back in the chair, smiling. “You—mi amour—are priceless, and entertaining. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at them. I know your temper. I just wish I’d been there to see the exchange.”

  “I don’t even think he understood what I was saying” she said, a slight smile on her face.

  “Exactly!” Manny exclaimed. He pointed at her. “That’s EXACTLY what my lawyers are looking for.”

  She was puzzled. “I still don’t understand how what I said connects with getting me out of here.”

  “It’s very simple, chica; depending on what is shown in the video, we have your word against the cops that you didn’t understand your rights—your Miranda rights. The climate of the United States judicial system is changing. There are many immigrants who understand only basic English, if that. Most politicians are trying to be sensitive when dealing with immigration issues. If I find more evidence that you didn’t understand what was being done to you during the arrest and interrogation, it might be sufficient evidence to have you released. If the evidence isn’t compelling enough? Well let’s just say I think I have the funds necessary to persuade at least one politician to fight on your behalf.”

  Mari’s shoulders relaxed. She gave Manny a bright smile, reaching across the table to touch him.

  “Thank you,” she cooed.

  “Don’t thank me yet. It isn’t finished,” he said in a sober tone.

  “But you can do it, Manny. I know you can…”

  She was sincere. What a surprise! He’d never heard Mari use that tone of voice before. She looked almost… appreciative.

  “Mari, I’ll get you out of here. It pains me to see you disadvantaged, and once you’re released, you’ll have everything you want.”

  Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes began to mist. He leaned into her.

  “What is it? What has you upset?” He stroked his thumb on the back of her hand.

  “Nothing, Manny. Everything is perfect. I know you’ll fix this.”

  “Then why the tears?” he asked, puzzled.

  She paused, and looked down at his strong hands holding hers.

  “I know you can fix this, Manny, but the truth is I won’t ever have what I truly want. Justice is what I want, but I’ll never get it. Everything I had has been ruined—and no one will ever pay for what they’ve done to me.”

  His eyes became narrow slits and his expression sinister. Even the lines around his mouth tensed. He leaned in closer and grinned with gritted teeth.

  “You needn’t worry about that either, mi amor. I listened to your story, and I’ll take care of that for you as well.”

  She had hoped the shower would wash away the horrible way she felt. Once again, she stopped Carter at a point where she felt she was losing control, and he was gentleman enough to back off when she said “no”.

  When his hand slipped inside her pants she was overwhelmed, and scared. She felt more heat, more desire, more lust… just

  …more.

  He looked dumbstruck when she asked him to stop, as well he should have. This wasn’t the first time she’d stopped him, but maybe it would be the last. Leaning her head against the shower wall, the water beat down, easing the tension between her shoulders. She closed her eyes in resignation. He’d felt so good and made her feel things she’d never felt before, so why did she get so panicky when she only wanted to let go?

  She could almost feel his lips on her, his hands in her hair, his firmness against her belly. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have Carter make love to her. Would it feel as good as she anticipated? She laughed. The truth was that everything with him felt better than she’d ever hoped it could. She didn’t really want to stop when she pulled away. The truth was that she was more afraid of the unknown than of him. To his credit he immediately pulled back from her. Both of them were breathing hard and she was soaked with lust. He didn’t ask her permission with words, but the way he looked at her was a question itself. Previously when she felt overpowered she used excuses to stop him. “My time of the month”, “I’m not feeling well”, and the one after their second date, “I’m not ready for this,” were effective. Today’s excuse was that she was “filthy and stinky” from working on the kitchen, and she didn’t want to be “gross” in his arms. Each time he was understanding, but this time it was more difficult; tonight she almost gave in—and he almost didn’t stop.

  She knew he was growing impatient, especially given how far she let him go. She felt his frustration but how could she explain the biggest reason? How do you tell someone you’re still a virgin?

  He might not believe her, but it was true. When you’re a girl living in foster care you hear all the rumors. Trouble is, most of the rumors are true. Girls were especially vulnerable as prey, assaulted by people who professed to care for them. Some girls also put themselves out there. It was either the need of a physical connection that masqueraded as love, or they just didn’t like themselves enough to look at sex as something special. She wasn’t like them. She kept a low profile growing up, wore baggy clothes, and did anything she could so she wouldn’t accidently send the wrong message. When she was eighteen before she bought her first “fitted” clothes. She was working in a coffee shop when she was scouted as a model. The figure she tried to hide was now her ticket to financial stability. It happened quickly, and almost as quickly she was surrounded by temptations. Drugs, alcohol, and men were in great supply. Although some saw her as a prude she didn’t bow to peer pressure, mainly because she didn’t want to lose control of herself. Other than an occasional drink, she
wasn’t into all that. If other people in the business made mistakes they had someone to fall back on to help them. The only person she could rely on was herself. Men approached her, promising a “good time”, but she refused. She only had one real friend and it was Declan. When he took her under his wing, he warned her about the kind of guys who were going to try “to get in her pants.” He knew exactly who they were because he was like them. Although he had no other feelings for Aimee other than that of an older brother, he knew all the tricks to get a girl to have sex with him—and he shared them all with her so she could protect herself. Having been very young and fresh to the industry, she was vulnerable in many ways. He helped her fend off the most aggressive guys, but she never told him about her background. It wasn’t necessary. As far as the guys, none of them were the caliber of man she could picture a future with anyway, and playing around was not her style. The last thing she needed was an unwanted pregnancy. The furthest she had gone with any man was how far she went with Carter. She felt herself falling for him and she could see him as a permanent fixture in her life. Could she trust him? That was the big question for her. He made her forget reason and it frightened her. It was that last moment of sanity when she panicked. She couldn’t clear her head. The “what if” thoughts took over. Never having a reason to do so, she wasn’t on the pill—and she wasn’t sure if he carried condoms. She would have to do something because she was falling in love with him.

  It was crazy. He was the most responsible man she’d ever known and she wanted him to be her first, and maybe her only. She didn’t know why she was worried so much. People had sex every day and didn’t think about it at all. For all she knew, he would have something to protect them both in his wallet, but she couldn’t take the chance. He made her forget herself. It was getting harder to stop and she knew she couldn’t refuse him forever. Honestly, she didn’t want to. Even though she was the first person he dated since Lacey, because he was so serious about most things, she couldn’t believe he would let them get so far without protection. Oh God! Why did she second guess everything?

  It hadn’t occurred to her until just this minute, but it would make sense. He was such a planner. He tried to orchestrate and figure out everything. She was the one who challenged him to be more spontaneous—and what did she do when he was “in the moment” with his hands all over her? She pulled back! The look of hurt and confusion on his face almost caused her to rip off his clothes, and let whatever was going to happen, happen. It was where her imagination mixed with anxiety to form a perfect panic. The relentless “what ifs”. She decided to push forward. She wanted to know what it felt like past the point where she stopped him, and although her mind played out many different scenarios, the possibility of going over the brink was something she’d only pictured in hundreds of ways. It might be time to give her imagination a rest, and step into reality.

  Maybe telling him the truth would be best, but she didn’t think he’d believe her. After all, didn’t it seem a bit ludicrous that a woman of twenty-two was still a virgin?

  Sometimes it surprised even her.

  She was a different girl in the mountains than she was in New York. She had to be. There were always opportunists to keep at bay. It was different here. She was different here—and so was he. The guy and girl who were friends at the beach were so different from the couple they’d become, but she liked that. They expected nothing from each other, thus clearing the way for them to be themselves and for them it was working.

  As she thought of him she came to a decision. She decided that she wanted to be with Carter more than she’d ever wanted to be with anyone. He was solid, sexy, and made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. She didn’t know where their relationship was going and she didn’t think he did either, but she was willing to take the chance.

  As she grabbed a towel for her hair, she felt Cody brush up against her leg. She’d stayed behind when Carter left. He wasn’t angry, he simply said he needed to “get some air.” He then called from his cell to say he was going home and he would see her later. Cody stayed behind with her. At least she knew he’d be back. He had to get his dog.

  She sat on the plush rug at the bottom of her bed and wrapped an old chenille bathrobe around herself. Cody came to lay at her side.

  “Whatdya think sweetie? Think I should sleep with your master?”

  Cody lifted her head and began to pant.

  “Yeah. That’s what I feel like doing every time I’m around him—especially lately,” she confessed.

  Leaning back against the cast iron bed, she stretched her legs out. Cody laid by her side again, her head resting on her front paws. The two sat in silence as Aimee’s hand drifted back and forth through Cody’s fur. The dog stared into blank space, content to be petted. It was so quiet. So peaceful. Even concerns about their sexual tension seemed to be melting away. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the solitude. A peaceful smile tugged at her lips.

  Yes, everything felt right with him, and everything would find a way to work itself out.

  Given enough time, everything did.

  Carter looked out the window. The wind outside reminded him of a wolf call. Richly pitched and rhythmic, it whipped through the trees. It was peaceful and predictable if you lived in the mountains, and for him it was comforting—and right now he needed some comfort.

  He sat at his desk, a beer in his hand, feet up and resting on the corner. This was the third beer he’d had since coming home from Aimee’s. He always thought he was good at figuring things out but she left him confused and frustrated. Having patience had served him. His mom praised his self-control when he was growing up. He loved learning how things worked. From car motors to clocks, he could take something apart and put it back together, along the way educating himself with intimate knowledge of how different things functioned…

  But it didn’t work with a woman.

  He was certain he and Aimee clicked. Their relationship was the thing he valued the most these days. She was easy; what you saw was what you got. He purposely didn’t try to figure her out because he didn’t need to, and she didn’t expect any more of him than who he was. As he thought of the places they’d gone and the things they’d done, nothing unpleasant crossed his mind. Every dinner, lunch, hike, walk—hell, all of it—he really enjoyed because he was with her. She wasn’t the snooty brat she sometimes pretended to be. With him she was thoughtful, kind, soft… and sexy. He didn’t know what to do about the sexual tension between them.

  She was a mystery.

  As he laid his head back against the chair, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone coming in the back door. He knew at once it was her. Cody gave her away with her clomping. The dog instinctively knew where he was and she came around the desk, finding a place to rest just underneath. He reached down to run his hand over her head. When he stopped, she laid down and fell asleep.

  He was still looking out the window when Aimee walked in.

  “Hi.”

  She sounded resigned and quiet. As he opened his eyes his jaw tensed with the aftereffects from a few hours ago. She had showered. Her long blonde hair fell in soft waves along her shoulders and her snug brown sweater hugged her in all the right places. She looked like an angel, but she tempted him like the devil.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked, leaning her hip on the leather chair in front of him.

  He took a deep breath, then let out a sigh. As he pushed the office chair away from the desk, he looked at her and how beautifully sweet she seemed to be and he couldn’t hold a grudge.

  “No. I’m not mad at you,” he answered.

  The butterflies left her stomach—slightly. He looked so sad and disappointed she walked over to hug him. He leaned back and patted his knee, but she simply walked around to his side of the desk and stood in front of him.

  “You don’t look nasty or filthy now,” he teased.

  From the V of her sweater all the way down her jean clad legs wa
s where his eyes roamed. Those jeans were so worn they hugged her like second skin. He couldn’t help the thoughts that crossed his mind, or his body’s reaction to them. He wasn’t hiding it as he sat inches away from her, his legs still spread, but he watched for her reaction.

  She looked down, appreciating how his body solicited hers. For Aimee, it wasn’t about the power she had over him, it was about the desire they both felt, and the commitment she hoped he would feel. She walked a little closer, standing between his legs. Placing her arms around his neck, she looked down at him. Her hair fell all around him as she placed her forehead to his.

  He was sucked into the fire in her eyes. Their gold flecks heaved, pulsating as they adjusted to the sundown’s light. The candescence added soft color to the room. Lifting one knee, she rested it on his thigh. She repeated the motion until she straddled him. Her arms rested on his shoulders while her fingers threaded through his hair. She pulled hard enough to make his chin tilt upward and whispered only loud enough for him to hear.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His head exploded, as well as his heart, as she pressed her lips to his. The reality of times past when they’d done this made him cautious. He wouldn’t allow himself to press back because he didn’t know if he would be able to stop. They’d done this dance before. If it were a game, he couldn’t play it. He wasn’t good at it. If she wanted him to be a choirboy, she picked the wrong man, and he refused to become one for her.

  She felt his reservation and lightly bit his lip, daring him. His hand reached around and held her still by her hair and pulled her away.