ACCIDENTAL TRYST

by Natasha Boyd

  I caught my breath.

  "Yes." He nodded, eyes on my mouth and settling his weight over me. The duvet and sheet were kind of trapped between us, but what little of his skin I could feel was warm and delicious. "You are a witch. There's no other explanation for why I am still in your bed."

  "May as well take advantage of it though." I shrugged with a grin. "You know, since you're here."

  He dropped his mouth to mine, and I quickly turned my head with a squeak. "Morning breath!"

  "Mine or yours?" he asked with a chuckle.

  "Mine, I think. I don't know."

  "Give me your mouth, Emmy," he growled.

  I turned my face back, and my gaze met his amused one. His eyes watched me until there were two of him, and his lips touched mine.

  Wrapping my arms around his head, I closed my eyes and relaxed against his mouth, letting his lips coax mine open. His tongue dipped inside for a quick taste, and my body melted into a pool of heat. "Mmm," I moaned.

  "Mmm, indeed." Trystan's mouth left mine and drifted hot wet kisses down my throat and down to my chest, pulling the comforter away as he went. My nipples stiffened and arousal thrummed low in my belly.

  He leaned up and drifted his fingertips over the swell of my breasts. "You even have freckles here. I love seeing your skin in the daylight."

  I scrunched my nose. I'd never been a big fan of my freckles, but the way Trystan looked at them hungrily and then swiped his tongue across my body like he could taste them, made me gasp and arch for more.

  He continued his downward journey, shoving the comforter away as he went, until I was greeted with the shocking sight of all our bare skin draped diagonally across the bed, his tanned against my fair, both contrasted against the white sheets. He settled between my thighs, shoulder nudging my thighs open. I covered my eyes, feeling embarrassed, but I didn't move.

  "Couldn't stop thinking about getting back down here," he murmured and kissed one inner thigh followed by the other, his hot breath trailing across me and causing my lower body to jerk and a sound of need to escape from my throat. "Thought about it falling asleep." Kiss. "First thing I thought about when I woke up."

  He repeated the action, his breath closer to my wet and needy center.

  "Are you teasing me?" I dropped my hand away from my eyes, and I caught his gaze.

  "Maybe." His eyebrow was raised cheekily.

  Then his hot tongue gave a long lick up the center of me and I gasped loudly in relief, pushing my hips up. "Yes."

  Trystan groaned, and his tongue returned. And returned. Long slow delicious swipes until they weren't enough.

  Writhing against his mouth and clutching his hair, I hung on as Trystan responded to every one of my needy whimpers, speeding up, slowing down, increasing pressure, slipping fingers inside of me, shocking me at times, and finally succeeding in bringing me crashing to orgasm.

  "Holy shit," I finally managed, trying to catch my breath. But no sooner had I spoken than Trystan was crawling up my body. His hard erection brushed against my leg, leaving a thin trail of wetness.

  His eyes were wild and feverish as he looked down at me, holding himself up on his arms.

  My hands had a life of their own, reaching up and threading through his soft hair. His eyes flickered as I grazed my nails over his scalp. Then I wrapped my legs around his waist and urged him inside of me.

  He thrust into me in one strong smooth stroke. "Oh, God," he moaned to match my gasp. "Jesus, Emmy."

  Pulling his head down to me, I devoured his mouth with kisses. His lower body thrust and arched and filled me. His weight on me felt incredible, I could die here.

  Eventually we needed too much air to kiss, and I held on tight, my mouth at his ear, panting, urging, begging. Our skin slipped and slid together with the sweat of our exertion.

  His breath in my ear felt decadent, delicious. It was laced with words and sounds of need and desire. His pelvic bone pressed hard against me as he moved, and before long, my body was tightening again, liquid fire racing along my veins and swirling in my center.

  "Oh, oh my God." The tide of another orgasm was on me so suddenly, it took my words away.

  And then Trystan, cursing as soon as my body spasmed, thrust hard once, twice, and came up on an arm, his head arching back.

  "Oh shit, Emmy."

  I watched his face contort in agonized bliss as he gave a final thrust, and it felt like the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. He was completely given over to the moment, lost in it, lost in me.

  And yeah, I had to admit I was lost in him too. Utterly. And not just in the throes of release.

  The realization formed a lump in my throat so suddenly I felt I couldn't breathe. I blinked rapidly and dragged his face down to my neck so he couldn't see my expression.

  I kissed the side of his jaw, his temple, salty sweat coating my lips. And this was why I shouldn't have one-night stands—I just gave too much of myself. This time I feared I might have given away more than I had to give. And if Trystan freaked out again, which I was pretty certain he would, it was going to crush me.

  "Wow." I forced a laugh and tried to keep it light. "You can rent my place anytime." Exactly the wrong thing to say. But it was out there now. And really, it didn't have to mean anything.

  Trystan chuckled into my hair, his breathing still exerted. "Does it always come with these perks?"

  There was no safe answer, so I strained around with my arm and smacked his naked butt.

  He pulled up sharply, looking amused. "You putting spanking on the table?"

  "Ha, ha," I returned. God, I wanted him to settle his weight on me forever. "Get up," I complained instead, "I can't breathe."

  He frowned slightly and rolled to the side. "You okay?"

  I stretched my mouth into a smile. "Never better. Two orgasms to start my day. Can't complain."

  "Three counting last night," he said proudly. "It was after midnight."

  I shifted in the bed, feeling uncomfortable and full of Trystan in more ways than one. "What time are you leaving?" I asked him.

  I'd rather get it over with, rip the Band-Aid off, start the new phase of my life—Emmy 2.0—the version who'd now known epic sex and chemistry and massive crushing disappointment. Not that I hadn't known crushing disappointment before, but this felt different.

  He laughed. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

  "Ha." I looked away.

  "Emmy, you sure you're okay?"

  "Yep. Stop being so needy. I'm fine."

  "Needy. Huh." He sat up and pulled on his jeans and went into the bathroom.

  I pulled the comforter up to my shoulders.

  The toilet flushed, and I heard the water run as I watched the sunlight through my blinds dapple against the white painted attic eaves. Then he came out. His face was closed. "Gonna run over to Armand's and get us coffees," he said. "How do you take yours?"

  "Cream, no sugar," I said, propping up on an elbow. "Thank you."

  "Same as me." He pulled on a white T-shirt that hugged the lines of his body. "I'll shower when I get back if that's okay. If you don't need to get rid of me too quickly."

  I waited for a grin or a sarcastic smile but got none. And it suddenly occurred to me in my rush to protect myself, I may have offended him. "Sure," I said. "Of course. No rush." I opened my mouth to say more but couldn't.

  He gave me a long look then turned and jogged down the stairs.

  Shit. I lay back with a sigh. Maybe we were both pretty bad at this.

  Ugh. I slipped out of bed and had a quick and thorough shower, then wrapping myself in a towel, went out to the bedroom.

  Trystan wasn't back, or perhaps he was downstairs, so I hurriedly applied lotion and pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Trystan's suitcase lay open at the end of the bed. I stared at it. How had I invited him so fully into my life? It was against everything I normally did. How did this happen?

  I went downstairs.

  * * *

&
nbsp; Trystan sat at my dining table with his laptop open. He looked up as I descended and nodded at the paper cup of coffee on the kitchen counter. "Should still be hot."

  "Thank you," I said gratefully. "How was Armand this morning?"

  "Full of winks and innuendo, considering he knows where you spent the night."

  "Ha. I bet. And I'm sure he was tired too, having to get up early to open the shop. He normally has help on the weekend mornings."

  "So he's really not gay, huh?" Trystan asked.

  I lifted a shoulder and propped my hip against the counter. "He's bi," I said, smiling as I remembered Trystan's reaction last night.

  "Ah."

  I popped the lid off my cup so I could blow on the top. "But I enjoyed your reaction."

  "I enjoyed your dancing." Trystan looked up at me over the top of his laptop.

  "Thank you." I looked away.

  He blew out a breath. "So how are you spending your Saturday in this fair city?"

  "Aha, you finally admit it's a city?"

  "Getting there," he said and leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head.

  "Today, I'm going to visit a couple of nursing homes to see about moving David. I have to move him by the end of next month."

  "Why so soon?"

  "The facility he's at doesn't have adequate dementia care. And after the fiasco this week . . . let's just say they are out of rope to give. He's on Medicaid so options are few and far between. I'm going to go and sweet talk the administrators, or beg and plead, maybe offer a kidney."

  Trystan's eyebrows pinched. "To do what?"

  "To get him a bed. There's a long waiting list, apparently. So unless you know someone . . ." I shrugged, imagining how I was going to spend the next few weeks. "Or can bribe someone, or just generally beg every day until they get annoyed enough to get you in."

  Trystan rocked forward in his chair, intent suddenly on his laptop screen. "What's the name of the place you're going to see?"

  "Um." I turned around, looking for my purse and bag that contained the manila folder Penny gave me before belatedly realizing they were still at Armand's. "I don't know. One of them's in Summerville. That's the one I want to go and see because it would be ideal. Close enough to visit."

  "This place?" He swung his screen around.

  "I don't know," I said, approaching. "I haven't looked it up yet."

  "Well this place is in Summerville and it has dementia care and . . ." He laughed and shook his head incredulously.

  "What?" I frowned.

  "I'm part-owner. I'd say that was knowing someone, wouldn't you?"

  I stared at Trystan. "Are you serious?"

  "Yep. But I'm still learning the ropes. I have no idea about the Medicaid situation. Let me put in a call." He picked up his cell phone from the table next to him, and I reached forward and grabbed his wrist.

  He stopped.

  "Wait," I said. "You can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "I—I don't know." I swallowed. "You've already . . . I still owe you so much."

  His head bobbed back. "Owe me? What the hell, Emmy?"

  I licked my lips.

  "I swear to God," Trystan said in a low voice, "you better not have fucking slept with me because you thought you owed me."

  "What?" I burst out, let go and pushed back from the table. "No! Ugh!"

  He lifted his palms. "Sorry. Just making sure."

  "God, Trystan."

  "Jesus, Emmy. What am I supposed to think?" He grabbed at his hair. "You've acted really fucking weird since we . . . since we . . ."

  "Fucked?" I supplied.

  Trystan flinched. "I was going to say made love."

  My heart climbed up my chest to my throat. "No, you weren't." God, he wasn't, was he?

  He stood and snapped his laptop shut. "Actually, I was. It just took me a damn minute because I've never said that before. But rest assured." He held up a hand. "Temporary insanity."

  I closed my mouth. It was dry. My ears rang. My skin felt hot. And pain. God, pain. It was all encompassing. It made me want to claw my skin off. "You should leave," I whispered. I didn't want to be told there was no place for me. Not ever again. This time I controlled my world.

  "Check out's at ten a.m., right?" His tone was biting. "I'm sorry I overstayed my welcome."

  "I-I'll go to Armand's. You j-just take your time."

  He took a step toward me then stopped. But I'd already backed up. An automatic reaction. If I didn't leave right now, I was going to lose my shit right in front of him. Tears were like a salt tide roaring in from the edges of everything I could see, feel, and hear.

  I turned and went to the door. Stopping for a moment, I took a breath. "Thank you," I said quietly, my voice wobbling. I couldn't forget he'd helped me, helped David, kept my phone when he could have ditched me high and dry. He was a good person. I knew that. And I knew he probably didn't understand the way I was trying to protect myself. When he realized how close we'd become, it would hurt worse when he pulled away. It was better this way.

  "Goddammit, Emmy. Thank you for what, exactly?"

  I answered by turning the handle on the front door.

  "Please," he said, changing tack. "Please don't leave."

  "Thank you for your help this week," I finished and opened the door and slipped through it, letting it shut behind me.

  "Fuck!" he yelled so loudly it echoed around the outside courtyard, and I winced.

  36

  Emmy

  I let myself into Armand's empty apartment and curled up on his couch. I wished I could go somewhere else, where Trystan didn't know where I was, but I needn't have worried—he didn't follow me. The tears I'd been afraid of never came. Instead, I felt cold, brittle, and exhausted. I pulled out the manila folder Penny had given me. Sure enough it was the exact place Trystan had shown me. Of course it was. I called and made an appointment to visit them later in the day, then I called a local rent-a-car place out near the Cooper River Bridge.

  I grabbed my makeup bag from my suitcase and went to Armand's bathroom and made up my face. I braided my hair to tame it and then called a cab.

  My phone was gripped in my fist the whole way to the car rental place and so quiet I actually checked that it still had battery life. I went to my photos, wondering what else Trystan had seen when he went through them. Weirdly, there were a bunch of pictures of food I hadn't taken. Meals Trystan had taken pictures of. Then I went to my messages to let Armand know where I was. I saw messages from Annie earlier in the week. I’d forgotten she'd texted Trystan thinking it was me. The messages were dated from Wednesday. Four days ago.

  Annie: Spill girl! Armand told me about some guy called Trystan.

  Oh? What did he say about him?

  Tricky, tricky, Trystan.

  Annie: That he's drop-dead gorgeous. How did you meet him?

  At the airport.

  Annie: Don't be coy! You know I haven't had sex in what feels like a zillionty years and I need to live vicariously. TELL ME MORE!

  Not much more to tell. But . . .

  Annie: But? I'm dying. You are slowly killing me.

  He thinks I'm stunning, and I crack him up.

  I inhaled sharply as I read his words pretending to come from me. Trystan had told me I was stunning last night, but seeing him tell someone else days ago was . . . my insides swirled. And he thought I cracked him up? That was good, right? The ability to make someone laugh? Someone who was going through a family funeral and lots of shit needed to laugh.

  Annie: Swoon! Well, it's about time. Yay!

  About time for what?

  Annie: To meet someone.

  I bet that made commitment-phobic Trystan shudder.

  How long has it been exactly? Trystan texted from me.

  Oh no, he didn't. I winced.

  Annie: Stop it. You were the one who told me you were basically “re-virginized.” So if you've finally found a guy you're attracted to then, babe, I'd say this means something. Whe
re does he live?

  I pulled my thumb from my mouth as I heard a sharp crack that told me I’d bitten off a piece of my thumbnail. I hadn't even realized I'd started chewing it. At least Annie didn't answer how long it had been. But re-virginized implied years. It had been almost two years. At least. That was an epoch if I thought about how often Trystan probably hooked up. I read on to see what his response was.

  He lives in New York. So yeah, definitely nothing serious. Gotta go.

  My stomach sank. Of course. Exactly what I knew. God, I was a mess. I watched the warehouses of East Bay Street pass me by on my left.

  * * *

  The drive out to Summerville in the rental car was easy, and I found the home without any problem. Magnolia Meadows was really pretty. Set in a partly rural area, with beautiful landscaping. Hopefully the staff were as wonderful as they were in Rockaway because so far, the idea that David could be somewhere this beautiful seemed too good to be true. And I didn't dare assume that even with all my begging he might get a bed. Of course I'd already let my pride get in the way on smoothing his path. I gritted my teeth and resolutely steered the rental car into visitor parking.

  My meeting with the administrator didn't take long, and she'd already created a file on David from her call with Penny the day before. I nodded along with all her explanations about why the chances of David getting a bed were so slim. Something about budgets and reimbursements and staff. It was all the things I'd heard endlessly. She handed me a brochure, and I had to squeeze my eyes closed hard when I saw the Montgomery Homes & Facilities small print along the bottom.

  Back in the car, my conversation with Trystan this morning scrolled on an endless loop through my head. I was so sure he was getting ready to politely extricate himself from whatever had happened between us. Had I really misread the situation so much? Everything I knew about him, especially after his almost freak-out during the night, told me he wouldn't stick around any longer than he had to.

  But what if I was wrong?

  What if Trystan wasn't as relationship averse as he'd portrayed himself to be?

  I thought back to his pictures I'd found in his phone and the ones of him and his “Little Brother” from Big Brothers Big Sisters—he wasn't as commitment-phobic either. Relationships like that took a boatload of commitment.