My eyes fell to his chest as I fought to keep the blush from rising up in my cheeks. It was stupid to be embarrassed. It wasn't like I could help it. It wasn't my fault. But, then again, I felt lacking. I felt like I was missing an integral part of womanhood: a proper orgasm.
"So what was it?" he asked, sounding lazily interested. "Did you just... lose it? It happens sometimes."
"Even with you?" I asked before I could stop myself. Way to feed his ego, Cordelia.
Good going.
"Yeah baby," he chuckled, "even with me."
I could use that. I could grab hold of the excuse and run with it. It was just random happenstance; a freak thing. There was no accounting for it. It was the perfect scapegoat. But, suddenly, I didn't want to have to lie about it anymore. "No," I said quietly, taking a deep breath. There. It was said.
His hand reached down, grabbing my chin gently and forcing my face back up toward his. "Alright," he said, his golden eyes piercing into mine. "What's going on then?"
I shook my head, dropping my gaze to his chin. There was no way I could look him in the eyes and say it. "I just... I don't really..." Oh good god this was humiliating. "I don't... really have orgasms."
The silence afterward felt painful, sharp. His finger started to stroke my jaw but I couldn't look up. I didn't want his sympathy. It wasn't a big deal. "Ever?" he asked finally.
I let one shoulder shrug. "I don't know... maybe..."
His laugh cut me off and my eyes went up to his, shocked, almost offended. Was he actually laughing at me? What a dick.
"Trust me," he said, his tone casual, "if you have had one... you would know it. There would be no maybe about it."
"Fine then," I said, feeling my shoulders pull back. "I guess not."
He nodded once, pursing his lips slightly and looking up into the sky for a second before looking down at me. "Well then," he said, "we are going to have to see what we can do about that."
"Do about what?" I asked, my eyebrows scrunching together.
"This missing orgasm of yours."
"What do you mean..." but he was turning from me and walking away.
"See you around, Cordy," he said, disappearing behind the side of the building.
What the actual hell? I fell back against the bar, a hand over my lips that felt swollen and sensitive. Who the heck was I? Because this wasn't the Cordelia Cameron I had grown to know and not entirely dislike over the course of my time on Earth. I was not the girl to get wasted in a bar and then make out and get finger fucked behind it with some random guy I had barely had more than a conversation with. That wasn't me. And it certainly wasn't like me to admit something so profoundly personal, so painful and awkward to a man who didn't really mean anything to me.
There was a tiny voice that suggested that maybe Dane Broderick meant more to me than wall banging and snarky remarks.
But I told that voice to shut the hell up as I walked over to my shoes and slipped into them.
The walk back to the inn was slow and lonely. My body felt frustrated, unfulfilled.
Though, apparently, it didn't even know what fulfillment was. My stupid, confused body.
Devon was at the front desk when I walked in and I glanced at the clock behind him, realizing it was just barely eleven at night. Luckily for me, he was wrapped up in whatever rapid fire text he was sending off and I slipped past him all but unnoticed.
I let myself into my room, kicking off my shoes and falling backward onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, rolling over an endless stream of thoughts that shot to the front of my mind.
It looked like it was going to be another sleepless night.
And, once again, it seemed to be all Dane Broderick's fault.
Eight
Cordelia
I didn't see him again for five days. I occasionally heard him shuffling around in his room, walking out on the balcony. But I never so much as laid eyes on him. He wasn't in the dining room when I went down to breakfast or lunch or dinner. I didn't happen upon him in the halls. Which, really, was all for the better.
I didn't know what the hell had gotten into me that night at the bar, but it was best that it was behind me. Behind both of us.
Because it would only be confusing for him. Or disappointing. I wasn't that girl. I wasn't the carefree girl on the dance floor. I wasn't the pathetic mess throwing up more booze than I ever should have consumed. I wasn't some risque slut you fingered behind a bar. And I wasn't the girl who admitted her deepest, darkest secrets to someone she barely knew from Adam.
So if he was somehow under the impression that I was, in fact, any... or all of those... he would be sorely mistaken.
Besides, I had a lot more on my plate to worry about than friggen Dane Broderick. Like the fact that I was finally starting to make some progress with Emily and the plans. We had actually settled on a color. It was something I never would have brought to any other client. It was called Caribbean Holiday and it was more aqua than blue. It was bright, almost just barely harsh to the eye... but I loved it. I had loved it since I came across it years ago. And Emily, maybe just picking up on my enthusiasm, or maybe genuinely liking it herself, had decided it was the color we were going to work off of.
We were still working on the right combination of patterns for the chaise and captain's chairs in the sitting room that we had decided to re-upholsterer instead of replace. Things were going well and I felt less anxious than I had since I had first heard about this job.
I walked around my room, debating whether or not I should get into my pajamas or go out. Small towns were weird on a Friday night. There weren't exactly a lot of options for nightlife. I imagined most people congregated around at the bar. That was was not an option. And since I had already had dinner downstairs, there wasn't any reason to go to the diner. I could, however, make the long overdue trip to the bookstore I had seen when I first drove into town.
It would be pretty lame of me to head to bed at six on a Friday. Decision made, I slipped into a pair of heels and headed down the street. As I predicted, there was a group of people out front of the bar smoking. The door swung open and I heard the commotion inside. I forced myself to keep my eyes forward, to not look for him.
I did not need to see him for any reason whatsoever.
Stars Landing Books was a well stocked, cramped store. A testament, I was sure, to a proprietor who was a voracious reader him or her self. Built in shelving units lined all of the walls and tables were crammed into the available floor space, piled high with various books.
I browsed casually, lulled with the smell of novels: paper and glue and magic, mingled with the scent of freshly brewing coffee and the faintest trace of brownies. It was practically narcotic.
When the door swung open, I had an arm full of four different novels I had never heard of before... which was pretty impressive seeing as I spent a huge amount of my free time in random bookstores all over the country.
A pretty raven-haired girl with cat-eye glasses stormed in, seeming to not even notice my presence as she made her way toward the back of the store where I had caught the sight of a small cafe and the back of a tall guy with a tattoo on his neck and a positively breathtaking profile.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" she yelled, making me take a step back and hide behind the bookshelf I was closest to.
"What do you want, Riley?" the neck tattoo guy asked, sounding bored and yet somehow condescending at the same time.
I really should have just reshelved my books or... placed them on the closest table and discreetly headed out. I could have went back in the morning and retrieved them. But something had be staying put, out of sight and being a shameless eavesdropper.
There was a long silence from the Riley woman and then there was the unmistakable sound of books slamming into the wall and falling to the ground.
"What the hell?" the guy asked, sounding shocked. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I. Should. Have
. Known. Better," she enunciated each word with the throwing of a book. There was a slamming sound and an "ouch" from the guy.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm leaving," she said simply, sounding somehow even angrier as she made her way toward the front of the store. "And there is nothing fucking romantic about Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester, you pretentious snob!" she yelled and slammed the front door hard.
There was a long silence, my heart pounding in my chest as if I had just been one of the people in the fight instead of an innocent bystander. "You can come out now," the guy called, sounding too calm for someone who had just had a shelf of books thrown at him.
I slid out from behind the bookshelf and made my way toward his voice. "I'm sorry... I just... there was no delicate way to excuse myself," I admitted, stepping into the cafe. The man was bending and collecting the books, then slowly stood up and turned to me, a haphazard pile clutched to his chest. And hell if he wasn't probably the best looking man I had ever laid eyes on. And that included Dane... which was really saying something.
He was tall and thin with black hair cut with a sharp undercut and the most piercing light gray, almost see-through, eyes I had ever seen. He wore jeans and a band t-shirt under a huge white thick knit grandfather sweater with big round wooden buttons open in the front.
"You're new," he said, his brows drawing together like he was trying to figure something out.
"I'm Cordelia Cameron... I am redecorating the inn."
"Right," he said, putting the pile of books on the counter.
"And for what it's worth... I think Jane and Mr. Rochester were romantic."
"Of course you do," he said, sounding, yet again, condescending. How can you make such a mundane phrase sound like that?
"You're not helping your case," I said, watching as he slipped behind the counter and putting my books down across from him.
"Which case would that be?" he asked, his eyes making me feel squirmy with their intensity.
"The one where you try to prove you're not, in fact, a jackass who deserves to have things thrown at him," I shrugged, glancing into the dessert case.
He rewarded me with a small chuckle. "Yeah, well. I'm afraid I would lose that case regardless of how nicely I treat you."
I smiled. "May I have a coffee and a brownie?" I asked, walking back to my books and touching the stack. I watched as me moved around, his movements deliberate but lazy like that of a cat. "So shouldn't you go after your girlfriend?" I asked, knowing I should mind my own business, but it was nice to speak to someone other than Emily and Devon.
"She's not my girlfriend," he said, pushing a coffee toward me.
"She certainly throws books like a girlfriend," I said, laughing.
"It doesn't matter," he shrugged, ringing up my books. "She's leaving."
"Oh," I said, thinking about her exit. I had thought she just meant leaving the store. Apparently she meant the town. She was a transplant like me. "I'm... sorry?"
He looked at me blankly, then past me toward the door. "I gotta go," he said, walking out behind the counter and toward the front of the store. "Lock up when you leave."
"Aren't you like... worried I'll rob you blind?" I asked, turning to watch him leave.
But he didn't answer, the door slammed and I was all alone in the bookstore. It was a weird feeling. Almost eerie. I felt like some serial killer might leap out from behind the stacks and kill me in some elaborate way. I ate my brownie in two bites, grabbed my coffee and books and headed out, making sure I locked up.
Apparently Stars Landing wasn't as boring as I had started to think it was. And it certainly wasn't lacking in the attractive male department. I had barely left the inn and yet there was Devon, and Dane, and the bookstore owner... all of them attractive enough to grace the covers of magazines. It wasn't what you expected in a small Pennsylvania town.
I spotted the owner outside of the bar as I passed, wondering fleetingly where his white sweater had gone to. "I locked up," I said as I passed.
He turned quickly. "That isn't my store, sugar," he said and I paused, turning and taking a better look.
"Oh for god's sake. There's two of you?" I asked and he laughed. Up close, there was definitely a difference. This one had darker eyes, his hair was slightly different, and there was a sexual energy that hung like a fog around him. So... that makes four impossibly good looking guys in one tiny town.
"Yeah, baby," he smirked. "I'm Eric O'reilly," he supplied. "The bookstore owner is Liam, my brother. He left you to lock up?"
"Yeah...um... I think he was chasing after some woman."
"Liam?" A familiar voice asked, and I felt my shoulders push backward as Dane stepped outside. "I was starting to think he was fucking asexual. Hey Cordy," he said, nodding his head at me like I was a neighbor... or someone he used to go to school with... not someone he made out with and touched behind that very bar a week ago.
"Hey," I said back, trying to sound casual, trying not to sound offended. Because that was how I was feeling. I guess I was just some passing whim. When was I ever going to learn? I wasn't that girl. I wasn't the girl that tamed the wild boys. I wasn't the girl guys couldn't stop thinking about. That wasn't me.
"So who is the chick?" Dane asked me, lounging against the front of the bar.
"Riley?" I half-asked, half-declared. "Black hair, cat eye glasses..."
"Oh her," Dane smiled, an appreciative male smile I wanted nothing more than to slap off his face right then. "Haven't you seen her around the inn?" he asked me.
I mentally rolled through the faces I had seen, placing more emphasis on the women I had seen leaving his room. "Nope."
"She came here a few weeks ago. She keeps to herself."
Did she keep her parts to herself or share them with him?
Oh for crisssakes... I needed to get a grip. I was acting like some kind of jealous girlfriend "Right well," I said, my tone sounding ridiculously formal. "She threw books at him then told him she was leaving town. He ran after her," I said, looking at Eric, not Dane. Anywhere but at Dane. "I, ah, have to get going," I said, turning to walk away.
"Hot date with your book boyfriend?" Dane asked and I swear I could feel my blood boiling. What the hell was his problem? Was it fun to poke at people's weak spots? Was that some kind of thrill? Tease the shy girl. That's cool. She doesn't have feelings or anything.
I turned back before I could stop myself. "You're an asshole."
Eric looked between the two of us with his keen eyes, a smirk toying at his lips. Then he threw his head back a laughed, a deep, sensual sound I felt down to my toes. "Oh, man," he said, slamming Dane on the back.
I quickly walked away before Dane had a chance to say anything else, cursing myself the whole way back to the inn.
Way to show your weakness yet again, Cordelia. Show him he is capable of getting a rise out of you. You know better. Damn it.
I stormed up the stairs, not bothering to give Emily the customary passing smile. At the end of the hallway, I could hear raised voices. Loud, furious arguing. And I recognized the female voice just before I heard something in her room hit the wall. I smiled as I let myself into my room, kicking out of my shoes and going straight to the closet, pulling out a tank top and a pair of pink silk pajama pants.
Maybe I didn't have a fun and exciting life. And, yeah, maybe the closest thing I have had to a boyfriend in the past few years was of the fictional variety. But that was okay. That was the life I had made for myself. And it didn't matter who thought they could make fun of it.
Fuck Dane Broderick.
Nine
Cordelia
I fell asleep a while later, a book clutched to my chest like a lover. But something was wrong. Off. Different. I knew it before I even opened my eyes. First, I was freezing. There was some kind of breeze on me and I shivered, pulling my knees up to my chest. And on top of that, I felt like I was going to roll into the center of the bed. Like the
re was some kind of weight putting the mattress off balance.
My eyes opened slowly, squinting against the darkness. Then I saw the dark shadow of a man sitting on the other side of my bed. I flew up off that mattress, my feet on the floor before I could even draw in a breath to scream.
"You sleep like the dead," the shadow said.
My eyes went wide and I grabbed my book, flinging it at him, taking an immense sense of satisfaction at the sound it made as it collided with the side of his face. I silently felt thankful to Riley for the idea. "You're such a..."
"Asshole," he finished for me, turning the lamp on the nightstand on. "I know. You've said. Repeatedly."
"You would think that you would get the point then," I said, crossing my hands over my breasts, feeling way too vulnerable and exposed without a bra on to contain them.
"What point is that?" he asked, turning to face me.
"That I don't like you," I seethed. I didn't. I really didn't like him. And I believed that maybe if I repeated that to myself often enough, I might actually start to believe it.
"Sure you do, princess," he said, sounding confident.
"I'm curious," I said, looking down at him, "as to what made you think that it would be appropriate to climb in through a woman's window and watch her sleep. Like a total creep."
He reached for the book I had hauled at him, flipping it over to where I had bookmarked before I went to sleep. I felt myself blush crimson as I remembered the page on the opposite of the new chapter page was the end of a very steamy sex scene. Great. That was just great.
"Interesting read," he said, snapping the book shut and making me jump slightly. "Especially for someone who thinks she can't have an orgasm."
I rolled my eyes. "I can't. Now if you don't mind," I said, walking over to the window and holding an arm out at it. "Please get lost."
"Well see," he said, tilting his head and smiling way too charmingly at me. "I could do that. Or..."
The Stars Landing Deviant Page 6