by A. J. Pryor
Sighing deeply he takes a step closer. “I could never forget about you, Addison. What we had . . . shit, Addy, I’ll never love like that again. But I fucked up leaving you and I figured you’d moved on. How could you not have found someone else?”
“Because my life fell apart the moment you left! My dad died, Matt. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? I lost you, then my dad, and I was broke, working two jobs to get myself through law school. You stopped calling, never checked up on me. You broke my heart Matt, and I didn’t have time to put it back together. I can’t put myself through that again.”
His shoulders fall, and his eyes soften. “Addison,” he grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him. I tense, and his eyes darken, the blue looking more like the ocean than a clear fall day. Resting his cheek against the top of my head, a small groan leaving his throat. “I didn’t come into town last month to find you, but I sure as hell went to Joe’s with you front and center on my mind. The fact that you were there . . . my insides shouted at me, ‘Here’s your second chance, don’t fuck up again.’ I don’t love Helen, and I never did. If you believe anything, please believe that.”
For a second, emotions I’ve tried hard to tamp down rise up, and I do believe him. But that doesn’t mean I can trust him.
His hand slips inside my robe. Curling his fingers around my ribs, his thumb resting right under my breast, he kisses my forehead. “I don’t know how to stay away at this point, Addy.”
Opening the robe once again with his other hand, he trails a finger along the round swell of my exposed breast, his firm grip on my side not allowing me to move an inch. “Don’t push me away, Addison. Not when it’s so clear you want this too.” Gently he runs the back of his finger along the tip of my nipple and involuntarily my breath catches.
A loud knocking begins at my front door. “Green Eyes, it’s me. Open up.”
Matt’s eyes meet mine a flicker of doubt clouds them, his head tilting to the side.
Damian.
Shit. What am I doing?
This outfit, these shoes, they’re for him, and yet here I stand in the arms of a man I can’t trust, a man who left me for money. I can’t move, having no idea how I ended up in this position or how to get myself out of it. A trickle of sweat makes its way down my back as my chest begins to constrict, panic over taking my system. It starts with my breathing, or lack thereof, because I can’t breathe. Have completely stopped pulling air into my lungs. And I’m sure I’m going to vomit any second.
“Addison?” Damian knocks again.
Matt pulls me closer. “Breathe, Addy.” His hands slide up my body and he tugs me into his arms, holding me against his chest. “Breathe.” He has one palm behind my head massaging my scalp and another holding me firm to him.
I think I’m in shock; I’m practically naked, in my ex’s arms. This isn’t where I want to be. “You have to leave,” I finally croak out.
He stiffens and his massaging fingers briefly pause.
Damian knocks again.
“Clearly, I’m no expert Addison, but I don’t think you want me walking out your front door right now.”
Shit, he’s right. I hate that he’s right. I have to wait this out. No matter the consequences. I can’t allow Damian to find me in this position.
Pulling myself from Matt’s embrace I look at his hesitant eyes. “I’m going to put some clothes on.”
He nods and takes a step back.
Clearing my throat, I try to sound more confident than I feel. “Damian, I’m not feeling well. I’ll call you later,” I shout through the closed door.
“Addison,” his voice is tender, concern echoing through to my apartment. “Open the door and talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I think I ate something bad, that’s all. I’ll come see you later.” Disappointed, devastated, completely lost, that about sums up how I’m feeling right now as I make Damian leave.
He sighs loud enough for me to hear, “Okay, you know where to find me.”
I take a step towards my bedroom and Matt clears his throat. The question I know he’s been dying to ask finally leaves his lips. “Are you in love with him?” I don’t turn around, only shake my head. How could I possibly be in love with a person I’ve only just kissed moments before? But the panic that overtook me at being caught with Matt is undeniable and that gives me pause. Because if I’m only looking for a casual fling, why would I care if Damian found me with Matt? And why am I suddenly so sad that Matt was the one to show up on my doorstep first?
She’s says she’s sick, but there’s an odd tilt to her voice, and I have to wonder if I scared her away, or what’s going on in that mind of hers.
That kiss . . . it was everything. Changing something in me, something between us. I’m willing to take this as slow as she needs, but now that I know what she tastes like, how her body against my own shocked my heart into a rapid and dizzying state of arousal, I’m not backing away from her.
I go into my apartment and head directly to the balcony, hoping she may be outside getting some fresh air.
Nope. No sign of her.
For half an hour, I try to keep busy paying bills and catching up on paperwork. Willing my mind to focus on anything but her and what the real reason is she’s refusing to see me. It’s after five when I finally decide to check the balcony one more time.
Instantly I don’t like what I see.
Addison is staring out at the ocean, a distant look on her face. She looks slightly haunted and there’s a near empty wine bottle next to an empty wine glass. She has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she’s so lost in her own thoughts, she has no idea I’m standing here.
“Addison?”
She turns, startled.
“You okay?” I ask.
Tears well in her eyes, and she quickly wipes them away as she nods, finally realizing it’s me standing in front of her. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I instantly jump the rail dividing our two balconies, my feet pound down on the hard concrete shaking the table and making her smile a little bit wider. I take a seat across from her, close enough that our knees are touching, my hands cupping her sad face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, watching her eyes for any sign it’s me, that I possibly did something to upset her.
She shrugs, “Just stuff.”
Smiling I shake my head. “Not gonna fly, Green Eyes. What’s wrong?”
“He came back when you left.”
“The asshole?”
She nods. I’m going to kill him. If he touched her, if he hurt her, he’s a fucking dead man.
“Want to talk about it?”
Her smile fades and she goes back to staring at the Pacific Ocean in front of her. “You know all there is to tell.”
I have to wonder if that’s true. She told me how he left her the day they graduated college with a promise to return. And she’d believed him. But after a few months he stopped all contact, and she had become so busy caring for her father, she never tried to find him. That part of the story alone tells me this guy is a cowardly motherfucker. But when she told me he came back married and didn’t tell her, took her to bed without so much as giving her the chance to decide if this was the right thing to do, I wanted to rip the asshole’s head off with my bare hands.
I place both of my palms on her legs, feeling her muscles tense underneath her gray sweat pants as her eyes lock on mine.
“Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head.
“Did he touch you?”
There’s no response and my insides blow up at the idea of another man having his hands on her. That she allowed him access to her body enrages me and I want to hunt him down and make sure he never comes near her again.
Concern moves across her face as she takes in my expression. The anger I’m feeling escaping through every pore on my tense body. Leaning forward, she places a palm on my cheek. It’s warm and soft and I want her to touch me more, move her hands over my
entire body. “Nothing happened, Damian. I promise.”
“Do you still love him?” I’ve asked her this before. I need to know if her answer’s changed. I can’t move us forward if she’s in love with another man, it’s not my style.
Her body startles and her eyes widen. She shakes her head. “No. No, I don’t think I do. But he’s begging for another chance and it’s confusing.”
“He’s married.”
“Separated,” she corrects.
“He’s still married.” I argue.
She smiles. Finally, she genuinely smiles at me. “I don’t want to give him another chance, but I don’t know how to get him to leave me alone.”
I have a few ideas how I can get the asshole to never come near her again, but I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I need to focus all my attention on her.
Running my hands from her knees up to her stomach, my fingers sliding underneath the hem of her baggy shirt, she lets out a slight gasp as I wrap each of my fingers around her bare sides, her skin heating at my touch. Pulling her forward in her seat, her legs captured between my own.
“So we’re clear, Addison. If you were mine, I’d never let you be sad. I don’t want to ever see your eyes like this again.” I kiss her forehead and I don’t want to pull away. Her skin is so soft, her fresh scent intoxicating. Closing my eyes, I let my lips linger on her skin.
“Tonight. Let me be yours.” She whispers it and I want that, so badly I fucking want that, but it doesn’t feel right after what she just shared with me.
I pull my lips away and rest my cheek against hers. “Tonight’s not enough for me, Addison. I won’t be able to stop at just one night.”
Pulling her face away from mine, her eyes squint in confusion, but she doesn’t say anything as she takes in my statement. It’s calm and quiet on her balcony, the night surrounding us and I can’t help but smile into her beautiful eyes, watching her mind process what I said. And suddenly it’s as if everything falls into place and she smiles back, her eyes lighting up in understanding of what I need from her. “I’ll be yours tomorrow too.”
Slightly chuckling, I lean forward, my check brushing against hers, my lips grazing her ear. “One night Addison . . . one night I’m going to make you mine and you’ll never question your heart again, but it’s not going to be tonight.”
Her body deflates and her hands grip my biceps. “Will you at least drink with me?” she finally asks.
I stand and pull her with me. We climb over to my apartment. “I’ll do one better, I’ll drink with you and I’ll make you dinner.”
We are on my favorite dark blue lounge chair, she’s settled between my legs, her back resting on my chest. We’ve eaten, we’ve talked and we’ve drunk—a lot. I’d laid it on the line as best I knew how; I’m looking for a lot more than one night. She’d processed that information, and had been unreadable since.
She’s holding her wine glass in one hand and gripping my thigh with the other as she leans back and looks towards the dark, star filled sky. The wind has kicked up and is bringing the smell of ocean air around us.
“Would you rather go a year without coffee or a year without television?”
Addison sits up and stares at me. “Are we playing ‘Would You Rather?’”
I shrug. “Yeah, you game?”
She sits back down, her free hand tapping my thigh as she thinks. “Television. I can’t live without my coffee. Would you rather go a year without working out or a year without sex?”
“Sex.” I say without a second thought. She sits back up and stares at me horrified. “What?” I ask. “You can’t live without sex? Is this something new I should know about you, Green Eyes?”
Laughing she lays back down, “Oh, I can live without sex, Christ, I just got out of a five year dry spell, but I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone to deny themselves.”
Crap, Matt’s the only man she’s ever had sex with. No wonder she’s so hung up on the dude.
“Guess, you just learned something new about me,” I say, as I squeeze her tighter.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a little while longer, her hand still firmly placed on my thigh and my arms secure around her small frame.
“I’m in love with tonight.” Her voice is slow and husky, her body relaxed and resting comfortably on top of mine.
Entwining her fingers with my own, I gently run my thumb along her soft skin, feeling the delicate bones underneath. “Always love your life, Addison, It’s the only one you’ve got.”
“There hasn’t been much to love about it lately.” She finishes her wine and leans forward to pour herself another glass, her fingers leaving mine cold and empty. We’re on our third bottle and I know I’m feeling it, I’m sure she’s beyond buzzed at this point.
After refilling both our empty glasses, she’s snuggling back down, her head fitting right under my chin and my arms instantly wrapping around her. “You met me, Green Eyes, that should be reason enough to love your life.”
Her gentle laugh vibrates through my chest and I hold her tighter, my lips coming down on the top of her head.
“You’re not allowed to kiss me, Offside.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, and it’s a tease to kiss my head and not my lips.”
After kissing her head again, I lean forward and slide her hair away from her neck. My lips grace the area right below her hairline, bringing her soft skin between my teeth and gently biting. She shivers and her body scrunches up smaller in my arms. “I’m not a tease, Addison. Only a realist and I really wanted to taste you.” I gently bite her again.
“Damian.” It’s a whisper, the word escaping her lips in one solid exhale.
“I’m not going anywhere, Addison. When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. And then I’ll bite a lot more than the back of your neck.”
“I’ve been ready for weeks. What more do you need?” My heart hammers against my chest, my body hums with the need to touch her everywhere, to be consumed by her, but fuck . . . I need all of her, not only a tiny piece.
“No doubts, no regrets. I want all of you, every part. The good, the bad, and the perfect. When you’re ready to give me you, I’m all yours.”
I feel her stiffen in my arms, her breath catching on an inhale as she realizes what I’m asking for. She can’t give me what I need, at least not yet, and we both know it, but she feels too perfect lying here in my arms to make any of this stop. My fingers trail along her arms, and she shifts, turning so she’s facing me.
“What if I’m never ready for that?” Her words are beginning to slur, her eyes taking on a half-lidded gaze as she continues to sip on the wine.
Running a finger down her rosy cheek and over her curved red lips, I look her in the eyes. “You will be. I’ll make sure of it.”
Smiling, she lies back down and continues to drink.
“Show me photos of you when you were a kid?”
Is she serious with that question?
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I want to see what you looked like.”
I can’t believe I’m about to honor this request, but I do have an album my mom put together and brought up to me. It’s embarrassing that I keep it in my bedroom closet, but I’m not functioning full throttle so I walk her inside, both of us barely able to stand upright. Sitting her on my sofa, I bring her a bottle of water, down one myself, and go fetch the album.
She turns each page slowly, one by one as she examines the photos.
“Wait, you have seven brothers and sisters?” She looks up confused.
I can’t help but laugh at her unfocused eyes and the way her mouth is falling open in complete shock.
“Yep, and I’m the oldest. I thought I told you that?”
“No, you’re pretty secretive when it comes to all your personal biz.”
My life hasn’t been exactly perfect. Sure, I’m rich as fuck, but nobody knows that. And the accident? No need to d
redge that shit up. So I guess she’s right, I haven’t told her much about me. Drunk is probably not the best time to start letting her in on all my dirty little secrets.
“Why do they look nothing like you?”
“I’m half Brazilian and my siblings aren’t.” Not sure if this is the time to tell Addison that I’m a bastard child of a world famous soccer player or just let it slide, I give her as little details as possible.
“My dad is not their dad. But he wasn’t interested in having a family, so he sent money, visited every so often and my mom married someone else.”
“Walker’s not a very South American last name.” It’s a statement but I can hear the questions behind it. She’s getting a lot out of me tonight and I don’t feel the usual panic that always comes when someone tries to dig deeper into my past. So, I move forward, giving her as little information as she needs to put the pieces together.
“I took my stepdad’s name when I turned sixteen. Didn’t want to slide through life on my dad’s back. Revilino is a pretty well-known name in the soccer world.” She looks at me when I say my given last name, and her eyes are curious, clearly a recognition there. But she’s not placing it. “Google it.” She nods and goes back to the photos.
“Do you like your stepdad?” She’s stopped looking at the book and has focused all of her attention on me.
“I love him. He’s never been anything but a dad to me.”
She continues to stare at me, a concern on her face that I’ve never seen before.
“What about your real dad?”
“What about him?”
“Do you love him, too?”
“What do you mean you’re quitting football?” His thick Brazilian accent is coming through full force letting me in on exactly how angry he is. His refusal to call it soccer when he knows it bugs me that he’s never once tried to take on any of my American upbringing.
“Dad, it’s not quitting if no one will sign you. I’m not going to play for some crap team in the middle of South America. No team worth its shit wants me anymore.”
I turn up the volume on the television and continue to watch Family Guy. This conversation is over.