Lifting a hand, she knocked on the door. She shivered from the cold rain running down her skin, making her clothes stick to her.
After a brief time, he opened the door. The only light escaped through his apartment door. “Roxie.” He sounded shocked to see her.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve called, but when I didn’t hear—”
He snatched her hand and pulled her inside. “You’re soaked.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Her teeth chattered in the silence hanging between them.
He turned and left the room and came back with a towel. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Anywhere is fine. Probably at the top, since it’s running down. Could I have that? I’m so cold.”
He handed the fluffy, mercifully dry towel to her. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. We can put them in the dryer.”
She stopped patting her hair and face to meet his gaze. They held it, staring at one another for a long moment.
“Let me help.” He stepped forward, not taking his gaze from her face as he began to unbutton her shirt. Fingers deft, he moved fast, and she shrugged out of the shirt as he pulled it down her arms. He dropped it with a plop on the floor and Roxie let the towel fall down on top of that.
She unbuttoned the jeans and forced the zipper down while he watched. He hooked a finger in a belt loop and pulled her closer. Tugging hard, he stripped the jeans down her hips and off her legs. She stepped out of them.
Even her strapless pink bra and lacy panties were wet, she’d been soaked so thoroughly. By this point, Roxie was breathing hard as his gaze traveled over her body and back to her face.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Pretty much.”
Then he was on her, his lips sealing over hers in a kiss, his hands roaming her body as chill bumps pebbled her skin. He nipped at her lower lip and Roxie moaned, grateful for his touch.
Moving at a frenetic pace, she pulled his shirt up and he broke their kiss long enough to let her take it up over his head. She balled it up and held onto it as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close again.
Without hesitation, he unlatched her bra and tugged down her panties. She stood before him, naked.
“Jeans,” she muttered. He needed to be nude right away.
He placed kisses on her neck and shoulder as he undid his pants then slipped them and his boxers to the floor, kicking them away.
Taking her wrists from his shoulders, he backed her up a step to the door, and held them above her head. Roxie devoured his lips, determined not to let him have all the power.
He lowered his forehead to hers, breaking the kiss. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His hands went to her waist and lifted her, so their lips were level. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close, so that his erection pressed into the apex of her thighs.
The two of them nipped and soothed one another with kisses. Her hands curled into his short hair and she tugged. “Take me.”
He pushed at her entrance with a groan then entered her slowly. Roxie threw her head back, and bit back a moan of satisfaction. Yes, this, exactly this was what she needed.
He thrust his hips, over and over, into her. The rhythm began to raise her higher, chasing down pleasure. She used her legs, squeezing him closer, deeper.
The wood of the door scratched at her backside. She was trapped between it and the wondrous sensations of him piercing her, taking and giving pleasure with each thrust.
Her heart raced, beating at her chest like a mad thing. The fresh scent of rain rising from her body as it evaporated in the heat filled the air. And sex, the musky, natural smell of sex hung between them.
Roxie writhed against him, clinging to him. With one hand, he cupped her ass, holding her up, and he let the other roam, molding her breast. Pleasure came for her from nowhere. There was the echo, the elusive need, and then it was upon her. She grasped him tighter and held on as her muscles clamped down on him, and it hit her in waves, making her cry out.
“Rox,” he ground out, pumping harder, as his own orgasm struck him. He pushed her back against the door and thrust deeper as he came.
Roxie hung limply against him and he lowered her until her feet touched the floor.
“I’m so sorry.” He mumbled.
“Why? That was perfect.” She cupped his cheek and searched his face. “Why are you sorry?”
“I didn’t use a condom. I couldn’t think of anything but you.” He took her hand and his gaze dropped to the floor. “That’s no excuse.”
“Aidan, I trust you. I know you wouldn’t put me in danger and I’ve been on the pill so long, I never stopped taking them, even when I hit the dry spell from hell.”
“So you’re on the pill?” He raised his gaze and gave a small smile. “That’s okay, then. Physicals are required. I was just tested six weeks ago. Clean bill of health and all.”
“I believe you.” She wrapped him in a hug, chilly in the air conditioning of his one-room apartment.
“What am I doing? Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and led her to the bed where he pulled the bedspread off the top and placed it around her shoulders. “Let me throw your clothes in the dryer.”
Unsure of what to do with herself, she sat down on the edge of the bed while he gathered up her clothes and pulled his jeans on. “I’m just going to run downstairs and put these in. I’ll be right back.”
She gave him a smile and a nod as he walked out the door, clutching her clothes.
The sex was wonderful. At least she knew he’d missed her, too. But, now, would they be able to talk? Could she convince him he didn’t need to worry about her?
*
When Aidan stepped out onto his small landing, the rain had nearly stopped. The storm had come in time to soak Roxie and make her damn near irresistible and, that accomplished, blown away.
He jogged down the steps and opened the side door to the garage. Throwing her clothes in the dryer and turning it on, Aidan took a moment to catch his breath. That had been the most mind-blowing sex of his life. And he was pretty sure most of that was because he’d fallen so hard for Roxie.
The last few days, he’d done everything he could to stay away from her, to try to get some clarity about his feelings. And it worked—Aidan was hopelessly in love with her.
But that didn’t mean there weren’t still issues they would have to tackle head-on. Her depression was something he took very seriously, especially considering the same disease had taken her sister’s life at such a young age. He couldn’t lose Roxie when he’d only just found her.
He climbed the stairs, praying this conversation—one they had to have in order to move forward—would go well. Inside the bedroom, she still sat on the bed, wrapped up in his bedspread.
He grinned at her. “You okay?”
“I’m better than okay, but… I didn’t come here for a booty call. This wasn’t my intention.”
“I know that. It just happened.” He made his way to the bed and sat down beside her. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, she smiled up at him. He said, “I hope we have a lot more of that in our future.”
“That’s why I came. To find out if we have a future.”
“Look at me.” He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face. She met his gaze and the connection between them flowed through him. “I should’ve called sooner. I was going to call tomorrow.”
“You were?” She blinked several times. “Seriously?”
“If you didn’t come for the sex, then you must’ve known I had feelings for you.”
“No. I came because of my feelings for you.” She reached a hand out of the blanket to stroke his cheek. “I love you.”
More than anything, he wished he could say it back, but he wasn’t ready yet. He turned into her hand and kissed her palm. “That’s good then.”
“Better than good. It’s kind of
amazing.”
He took her hand from his face and clasped it tight. How did he say what he needed to tell her? “That said, we have to talk about your depression.”
“Why?” Her brow furrowed, she shook her head. “It’s part of who I am right now, but, really, going out with you and having all these awesome adventures… leaving the house has been so good for me. It’ll get better, we just have to give it time.”
“Are you seeing anyone? Like treatment?”
Roxie clutched the blanket tighter around her body. “I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to detail to someone what happened, or talk about how hard it is to get out of bed some days. I try not to think about it, much less talk about it.”
“I didn’t want to talk about how I felt after Miley died, either. But I did, and it made me a whole person again.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I want you to give it a try. Go see Dr. K.”
She leaned away from him and huffed out a breath. “I can’t see Dr. K. because I knew him in a professional capacity. It’s a dual role issue for him.”
“Find someone else then. Just talk to someone.”
Roxie gathered the blanket around her and stood up, walking a few steps away from him before turning to level a gaze at him. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she said, meting out her words. “Your solution doesn’t have to be my solution.”
“But you agree, you need a solution? Have you tried medication?”
“I did, when all this first started. It gave me horrible headaches and increased my anxiety. Why are we talking about this? My…” she huffed out a breath. “My medical choices are not your business.”
“Were you not listening before? I care about you, so your depression falls under the umbrella of things I give a damn about.” He pushed himself off the bed and stalked closer to her, as if mere proximity would make her understand him better.
Elbow jutting out, she placed a hand to her forehead and turned away. “I can’t believe this. Your feelings or my feelings don’t give you permission to tell me how to live my life.”
“Rox, I’m not trying to tell you how to live. I’m legitimately worried for your safety and health.” Trying to make her hear him, he went to her and put his hands on her waist.
“Don’t.” She stepped out of his embrace, walking a few steps backward. She rubbed the back of her neck and her cheeks were pinking up. “Not right now.”
“Don’t touch you?” He couldn’t believe her words. How could she respond by recoiling from his touch? “Or don’t care what happens to you? Which part of this are you objecting to?”
“All of it, at the moment. I can make love to you and still decide I don’t want you to touch me.”
“Don’t make this about something it’s not. I respect that you’re in charge of your body. What I have issue with is you telling me I don’t get a say in your health.”
She threw her hand up, holding the blanket closed with the other. “You don’t!”
“I’m not saying it’s my choice, but I am entitled to an opinion on it.” Something tightened in his chest, and he rubbed at it. “You need help.”
“Wow, I’m so fucked up that I need assistance to reduce the sheer amount of fuckery inside my head.” She gestured wildly with her free hand.
“I never said you were fucked up, Rox. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Stop saying offensive things. I’m fine, I’m going to be fine. I don’t need one more person in my life who cares more about the workings of my brain and the chemicals rushing through my body than he does about me. Me—I’m the person, not the illness.”
“I don’t understand why we’re even fighting. I only want you to get better.” His head ached and it felt like she twisted his words. It wasn’t intentional, but somehow what he was trying to say was not what she heard.
“I’m going to go downstairs, get my clothes on, and go. I can’t talk to you about this right now, while I’m naked under here, after we just had incredible sex and you told me you cared about me and I love you and…” She sighed as she ran out of steam. “All of this is just the wrong time for this conversation. I’m leaving, and we’ll talk later.”
“Fine, but we are discussing this.”
“Don’t start by making demands. That doesn’t help your cause at all.” The blanket dragged the floor as she opened his door and walked out into the night, wrapped only in his bedspread.
He followed her out onto the small landing. “At least let me get your clothes for you.”
“I can do it.” Waving a hand at him, she continued down the stairs. “I’ll leave your blanket in the garage.”
Aidan wandered over to sit down on the bed. How had that gone so wrong? He couldn’t find a way to understand why she’d become so upset and angry because he cared she was depressed. No matter what, they would have to have this conversation again. He couldn’t move forward in their relationship until they worked out the details of how she’d get better, how he could be sure he wouldn’t lose another person he loved.
Roxie pulled out onto the street and the dam broke. Tears streamed down her face so hard, she could barely see to drive. She swiped them away and grabbed for a box of tissues on the floor of the passenger side.
When she leaned over, she accidentally swerved into the other lane. An SUV honked obnoxiously at her as she righted the car into her lane in time to avoid an accident. “Shit!”
At this point, she should pull off the road before she killed herself or someone else. She’d have a good cry, get it out, and be done with it. She found a spot on the street to park and turned off her car. She cracked the window and pressed the tissue to her face.
How had that gone from so perfect—like dream-come-true perfect—to horribly awful and ugly in such a short time? She didn’t know if she was angrier with him or herself at this point. So angry, she’d refused to let him touch her? It was unreasonable, but the words spewing from his mouth were so offensive.
He knew nothing about depression. It wasn’t all “show up for therapy and take your pills like a good girl.” Depression was a battle she fought every damn day of her life. Could she get out of bed? Did she have the energy to clean up? Was there enough motivation to eat? Did she care at all about what happened that day?
How could he understand that? Yes, he’d lost his wife, but that was grief—not depression. And even if it were depression, it didn’t mean he knew how to handle her depression. Depression wasn’t one-size-fits-all. It was horribly personal and unique. It found all the chinks in a person’s armor and picked those exact places to attack.
She put the wad of tissues on the passenger seat and pulled back out into traffic. On her way home, she waffled, wondering if she’d overreacted or not made herself clear enough.
At the house, she tucked her ratty, wet mass of hair behind her ear and got out of her car, clothes still damp from not enough time in the dryer. Her mom stepped out on the front porch, hands on her hips. “What happened?” Meredith asked.
Oh, we had phenomenal sex then a heart-wrenching argument. She didn’t want to talk about it. “Nothing.”
“You’re soaked to the bone. I know you got out of the car during the storm.”
“Mom, seriously. Leave it alone for now.”
Meredith followed Roxie into the house, and then refused to take the hint when Roxie went straight to her room. She followed her there, too.
She stopped and looked her mom in the face, growing angry again. Why did everyone seem to want to discuss intimate details about her life? Couldn’t she just have her business and everyone else could stay out of it? “Mom, what are you doing? I’m not thirteen. You don’t need to grill me about the school dance.”
Meredith pulled back a little, her face stricken. “I’m not trying to grill you. I’m sorry if I ever did that. When you were all I had left, I maybe got too involved in your life.”
“Don’t do that. It’s like you’re trying to make me feel bad you lost a child. It’s n
ot my fault… or your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just a bad thing that happened.”
“Like the man who shot his wife?” Her mother crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Don’t start.” Roxie went to shut the door and her mother put a hand on it.
“No, I think I will. You said ‘bad things happen’ about the worst thing that ever happened to me. And it’s okay, because, in a way, it’s true. Do I still blame myself? Some days, I do. But, I had to get past that so I could take care of my other child.”
Roxie leaned down to pull a clean pair of pajamas from her dresser. When she raised back up, she gave a sigh. “What’s your point?”
“Bad. Things. Happen. If I can move beyond the loss of a child, I know you can get through this, Roxanne.”
Roxie swallowed several times, trying to make her throat work. It seemed the same argument Aidan had given her, in a way. What had he called them? Their worst things, back when they had discussed it in the diner. “We’re not discussing this tonight. I can’t do it, I’ve been through enough emotional crap for one day.”
She strolled into the bathroom and stripped down, putting on all new dry underclothes and pajamas. She hung up her wet clothes on the shower bar, so they wouldn’t mildew in the hamper. When she came out, she fully expected her mother to be gone.
Her mother had not taken Roxie’s words as a dismissal. She sat on the bed, hands all tangled together in her lap.
“Why are you still here? I want to go to bed and forget the crappy parts of today.”
“We got way off-topic. What happened with you and Aidan?”
“We…made love. And I told him I loved him. Then we got into a wretched argument because I’m depressed and he needs to figure out how to fix me.”
Meredith chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “I take it that didn’t go well.”
“You know what?” Roxie sat down on the bed beside her mom, glancing down the hall toward the living room. “It just occurred to me, he’s like dad. The opposite end of the same spectrum. They both are so obsessed with my depression they don’t see me as a person anymore.”
Exactly Like You: A Cupid Cafe Story Page 13