by Mae Wood
I pushed up on my elbows, arching my chest forward and noticing that I was nude. Lust had blinded me to my nakedness.
And affection erased all traces of modesty. Bert’s knees landed on the bed and he crawled up to kiss me full on the lips. Nothing held back. He was clean-shaven today and the soft skin of his cheeks was a marked change from the scruff he’d been sporting, so I pressed my palms to his soft cheeks and kissed him deeply.
And still no words. No noise except for the thrumming of blood, the hitch of our breathing and the occasional click of teeth.
Chapter Thirty-one
Bert
I drew in a breath and my eyes looked leftward and toward the ceiling. This Thursday? Did I completely forget? Or I just decided to ignore it. Pushing against the urge to subject my psyche to scrutiny, I forced myself to engage in the real world.
“Shit. I guess I forgot.”
“Yeah, it’s time,” she said quietly over a big glass of water. “And hey, I’ve decided to take the Cherokee back with me. See the country. And I can just throw my junk in the car and not worry about a moving company. Any suggestions for who can fix the CD player for me? I won’t make it out of Arkansas if I am stuck listening to any more Bob Marley.”
“Sure. Easy enough. Let me take care of it.”
“Huh?”
“You take my car today and I’ll take yours and get it fixed. We can swap again tonight.”
“So sure of yourself on that front, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I meant on the fixing the stereo bit, not the sleeping over bit because that’s a given.”
“I’m sure of myself in everything,” I said.
“No doubt.” She tossed her key ring at me, the silver heart fob catching the morning light. “Just be careful with it. It’s a beast.”
“Again, no worries. I’m great at maneuvering large objects into tight spots.” After a beat I supplied the punch line: “I’m a pro at parallel parking the Tahoe.”
A beautiful smile danced across Drennan’s exercise-flushed face. We’d just gotten back from a bike ride down the bike path that ran behind my house. After the divorce, Amy and I had gotten different homes. Something about Grady not feeling like one of us had gotten kicked out of the house, based upon one of the many co-parenting books we’d read.
I’d chosen a simple 1950s rancher whose only bonus was being a scant few blocks from an access point to the Greenline, an abandoned rail line that had been converted to a bike path that ran much of the length of the city. Many days that relatively unseen path was how I got from my house to the Y to the restaurant and back home again.
I thought I was going to convert Drennan to cycling, and snagged one of Marisa’s bikes for her to use, but I hadn’t realized that the stereotype of UC Davis was spot on. She really had cycled everywhere for four years. In fact, it was clear that between Davis and New York, she was more comfortable behind handlebars than a wheel of a car. Chasing her ass up and down the Greenline each morning she stayed over was a great reason to get out of bed.
But now it was over. This little detour in both of our lives was ending. She tugged the elastic band out of her hair and it fell around her shoulders in damp clumps. “I’m happy to do it myself if it’s going to screw up your day.”
“No, let me. It’s no big deal.”
“Then I will say thanks.” She popped up onto her toes and planted a kiss on my cheek while wiggling out of her sports bra and cycling shorts. Naked in my kitchen.
“Now this is a thank you.”
“No, this is.”
Her hands traced down my body, pausing at the waistband of my black cycling shorts and tugging them down. I broke through my lustful fog long enough to place my hand over hers, pausing its descent, and looked out of the driveway to confirm Grady’s car wasn’t there. “Grady?” I bellowed.
No response.
“As you were, Miss McCutcheon.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” she replied with a wink.
“Feeling nautical this morning?”
“We can go that way, if you want. Permission to board?”
“Permission granted.” She tugged my shorts down, fighting against the tight Spandex. I kicked them off and rubbed my ankles and feet together until my socks rolled off, my eyes closing in anticipation of her. She took my hand and at the squeak of a kitchen chair my eyes flew open.
She perched on the wood and leaned forward, her hands grabbing my sides and thumbs pushing on my hipbones, pulling me towards her. Her hot breath wafted around my straining erection. The sight before me took my own breath away and made my heart pound like I was in the middle of an uphill sprint.
Her head bowed and spread thighs bracketing my knees, the graceful slope of her spine as she tilted forward to take me in her mouth. Drennan was a whirlwind and I was powerless against her. Placing myself at her mercy, I let myself go, trailing my fingers through her hair and caressing her scalp. My fingers swept across her busy jaw as I cradled her head in my hands, with a gentle nudge, she broke away and looked up at me.
I’m not saying angels sung or the heavens opened with streams of glorious light. But in that naked moment, a universe opened before me in our gaze. A universe of us and nothing else.
“Captain?” She asked with a waver, her voice a quiet rasp.
Without a verbal reply, I reached under her arms and lifted her, changing our positions so that I sat in the chair with her bare torso before me. I grabbed her ass and tugged her toward me, resting my forehead on her abdomen and admiring the gentle slope of her stomach toward her navel. Her fingers crawled through my hair and I began to kiss my way upward, teasing the underside of her breasts with my mouth until moans and pants escaped her lips.
I pulled her onto my lap and she ground her pelvis on my dick. The feel of her slick wet pussy left me light headed. She pushed up on her toes, perching herself over my head. Her head tilted, and she looked at me. “Condom?”
And in that instant, the answer was no. I wanted to be with her, to be inside her, to be together in that way. The way that spoke of trust, and sucking the marrow out of life.
I shook my head and she lowered herself on me, wiggling until she was fully seated. I began to thrust from my glutes, resting my head on her shoulder and curling myself around her, nipping at her earlobe and neck in the way that I knew made chills run down her spine and her skin prick with goose bumps. Praying the moment to never end, I savored her. My Drennan.
Chapter Thirty-two
Drennan
His arm snaked around my back, bringing our bodies together with such intensity that I thought we were going to merge into one being. No condom. That had always been his thing and I got it. I understood the extra precaution allowed him to enjoy sex, but the offering of him bare, of sharing ourselves told me what I’d known. This wasn’t a fling. It hadn’t been. And I’d been kidding myself by thinking Lickable Man was a passing fancy.
But before I completely fell out of the moment and into my own head, his teeth connected with my ear and electricity shot down my spine, obliterating all meaningful thought and leaving me a base, rutting animal.
Blackness, streaks of white light, and a gray static filled my vision as I fell over the edge with Bert right behind me. My arms were hooked around his neck; half-moons from where my fingernails had bit into my own flesh marked my elbows. His slowing breath cooled my sweat-slicked skin, sending chills of a different kind though my body.
After a few minutes, I trudged on spaghetti legs to the bathroom, dousing myself in the warm water of the shower. The curtain slid open and Bert slipped in, stealing the stream of water.
“Hey,” I began to protest.
“Hey, yourself,” he pulled me into a bear hug and rotated me so that water sluiced down my back. He rested his forehead on mine, droplets sliding down his face. “What am I going to do with you?”
I shrugged. In the middle of my bliss, naked in the shower and wrapped up in him in every single way was
not how I envisioned this convo going down. And in that instant, I punted. “I dunno. What do you want to do with me?” Sex and physicality. With the clock ticking I know I can do that. I could manage that. I could excel at that. Then I could get in my car in two days, wave good-bye, and place Memphis in my rear view mirror, pulling out memories for the rest of my life.
“Everything,” he replied with a sigh. “I want everything.”
Tears slid down my face and I prayed that they looked like water from the shower. Until I heard my sob, I’d convinced myself I was getting away with it. That I was cool. That I was so cool that I could walk away from Bert and not be a wreck. Shiva, indeed.
“Shh, shh, shhh, I know, I know, I know,” he chanted by my ear in a whisper. “I know.”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I pulled myself together, wiping the tears and water from my eyes and face.
“Okay, so breakfast?” I asked, steeling my spine, reminding myself that the world wasn’t ending. Just this little romance. And that I’d survive. And I’d be okay.
I pulled on clothes from the tote I always brought to his house, scrubbed my teeth, and then with a hesitant hand, tossed the purple toothbrush into the small bathroom trash can. Bluff City Dental 901-556-1423, I read for the last time from the bottom of the can. He’d given it to me during one unplanned sleepover. Digging it out from a hall closet with a navy bath towel tied around his hips, I had watched his inked muscles ripple. But no time for that now. Now was breakfast.
Back at my place, I loaded boxes and suitcases in my car. This is the beauty of corporate apartments. They may be impersonal and cold, but they are easy. I looked over my shoulder at the beige walls, tan sofa and garish starving artist oil paintings. Everything looks like it did when I moved in a year ago. Like I’d never set foot in the place. I shifted my purse on my shoulder and locked the door before dropping off the keys at the office.
I pulled out of the complex and didn’t know where to turn. Part of me wanted to immediately get on the interstate. Get on the road. Put this behind me and head for home. But the urge was there. The undeniable want to find him.
To let him hold me.
To say to hell with my life and drown in the one I’d created in my mind. Of me and him, together. Cooking lazy brunches, snuggling against a winter chill under blankets, laughing our way through a bike ride around Shelby Farms or through the vines at the estate.
And it’s that potential reality that had me pulling up to valet my SUV at Pig and Barley. I’d booked a room at the Peabody downtown. Giving myself a place to spend the night in case I didn’t end up in Bert’s bed. Part of me knew I was kidding myself when I’d made the reservation. Packing a parachute when I never intended to leap from the plane. But I wanted that backstop. That safety net of knowing that I wasn’t dependent on him. That I could stand on my own two feet.
I pushed through the roughhewn wooden doors of Pig and Barley and there he was. Standing behind the bar. The sleeves on his blue and white candy striped shirt rolled up, exposing his arms and chunky silver watch. The khaki apron with the restaurant’s logo tied on. He was muddling something in a steel shaker, his brown eyes focused downward as he happily chatted with a guest. A guest I knew.
The entire bar area was filled with people I knew. My boss, a few co-workers, some of my favorite customers, the swim girls and their spouses, Trip, Marisa, Bert’s sisters, Bruiser and what’s his name, and a few of the guys he bikes with. Gwen saw me first and hoisted her toddler up on her hip while juggling a glass of wine.
“Oh, Drennan. Thanks so much for inviting me to see you off. This is quite the shindig, and I wish I could stay longer, but this little sucker’s got to get to bed soon.”
I gave her a quick hug, thanked her for her friendship and exchanged promises to keep in touch. Rinse and repeat through the group as I made my way to the bar.
“What can I get you?”
“What’s your specialty?”
“Got something for you.” And with that the handsome barman turned to his tools and I came face to face with his sister Fischer.
“Hey, Fischer.”
She gave me an honest smile. “Sorry you’re not sticking around longer,” she said.
“Yeah, me, too,” I replied, not knowing what to say to the sister of my quasi-fuck buddy very soon to be ex-boyfriend.
“Drennan, for you,” Bert interrupted the stalled conversation. He passed me a martini glass brimming with brownish liquid and a wide orange peel balanced on the rim. “Your Good Man Found.”
Torn between tears and laughter. At the inside joke put on display. A thank you escaped my lips before his take on an Old Fashioned touched them.
“Got a whole menu, if you want to look it over,” he said, as he slid a typed up menu bearing Pig and Barley’s logo across the bar to me.
One glance and my heart hit my feet and my grip on my glass loosened. A cocktail list crafted for me, telling the story of our time together. Swim Cap, a rum drink with a touch of Curaçao and a red Maraschino cherry floating on top; Training Wheels, gin and tonic with house-made bitters; Good Man Found, his take on the Old Fashioned I whispered in his ear at Mollie’s; Plus One, a spiced sangria made with a von Eck red accented with Tennessee whiskey, cloves and apples.
Tears brimmed at my eyes and I brushed them away with the back of my hand.
“Hey, hey,” he said, reaching across the bar, taking my glass from me and holding both my hands in his. “Breathe. We can do that later, okay?”
I nodded, wiggled a hand free, and drained the Good Man Found. “Start at the top. I’m working my way through the whole menu.”
I saw the protest forming in his mind and before he could speak it, I continued. “Swim Cap me.”
And with a wink, he began mixing away.
One foot in front of the other, I counseled myself.
The crowd thinned until it was me and him. His dear friends Trip and Marisa, who had been so welcoming to me, were the last to leave us, with an offhand comment about the back corner booth being lucky. Whether it was an inside joke or simply that my alcohol addled brain wasn’t fully processing words, I wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. The wood door closed behind them and I heard the bolt slide in the lock.
Trip just locked us in.
Locked in. In Pig and Barley. With Bert.
Who was in fact lickable. And who looked like he wanted to lick me. A shaky breath that I was sure was flammable escaped me and the naughty girl part of my brain took over.
“I had the valets drop off your car at the Peabody earlier, so don’t worry about it,” he said.
I nodded. “Thanks.” A beat passed. “Wasn’t even thinking about my car.”
“I gathered as much.” He set a full glass of water down in front of me.
“Going to ask what I was thinking about?”
He shrugged, pushing himself to sit on the bar and swinging his long jeans-clad legs over to let his feet dangle near my hips.
“Pretty sure I can guess.” He tapped the bar next to me and, using the stool, I clambered up to sit with him.
“Going to guess, then?”
“You want me to say it?”
“No more talking.” He immediately captured my face between his hands. I leaned into him, but it was useless, he’d already taken control. His lips, teeth and tongue recklessly explored my own. Nothing held back. Nothing hidden or saved for later. We both knew that this was our last night together. Last hurrah. Last fuck. Last last.
“Your hotel?” he whispered into my mouth.
“No way. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of fucking you on this bar.”
I felt his lips turn up into a smile, but only for a second before the hunger and heat took over.
“Thought I’d get you to say it first,” he said barely pulling his lips away from mine to form words.
I laughed, already missing with an ache the hot and playful sex we shared.
He wrapped an arm around my back and slow
ly lowered me to lie on the bar top, guiding my thighs open so that my feet hung off either side of the bar. I was glad I wore a dress to my sendoff party—the bright blue dress that I’d worn a few times to visit him on sales calls. A dress that I knew I rocked and a dress that I hoped would catch his attention but had always failed me. Until now.
“You wore this on purpose tonight,” he said as he began to nuzzle my breasts, his stubble was shaved clean but a five o’clock shadow deliciously scratched my skin. “You used to come in here to sell me wine, dressed to kill. You’re not an easy woman to ignore, Drennan.”
“But you did so successfully.”
“I’m a stupid man not to have done this earlier.”
“You thought about this too?”
“Every damn time you walked through the door.”
I kicked my feet, nudging them against the sides of the bar, trying to get my heels off.
His hands found my knees and squeezed them. “Stop. We’re doing this my way.”
His way. My way. It didn’t matter. It was all the same way.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now you get with the program,” he said, as he pushed my dress down my shoulders, his mouth roughly pushing down the lace cup on my bra to graze my nipple with his tongue. The gentle touch surprised me, contrasted with the nearly frantic groping of his hands to unfasten my dress, tugging at the side zip without making any progress.
I curled my fingers around his shirt, tugging him to my mouth for a kiss before I slid out from under him. Kicking off my heels, I stood on the bar; my eyes gazed around the empty restaurant, taking in everything from the pressed tin ceiling to the banquette pillows crafted from old quilts. I seared it into my memory, before returning my gaze to a worshipful man at my feet.