Thicker Than Water

by Dylan Allen

  If Idris Elba and Chris Evans had a baby it would look like him. He is tall, and broad, and the color of a lightly roasted hazelnut. His eyes are the rich, dark brown of hot chocolate. My throat goes dry instantly.

  I can’t stop myself from taking in his closely cropped hair, his cleanly shaved, chiseled jaw, and his generous mouth.

  His T-shirt which says, rather bizarrely, “I Woke Up Like This” on the front is pulled tightly across his exquisitely muscled chest and his biceps are so defined I know this man plays a sport and works out.

  The jeans he is wearing aren’t too tight, but they are tight enough to tell me he doesn’t skip leg day at the gym.

  “Addie!” Cara calls my name like it’s not the first time she’s said it.

  Oh my God. They have been talking while I’ve been staring and not listening. Now everyone is staring at me, including Mr. “I Woke Up Like This.”

  One look at his face shows he is grinning at me. I immediately look at Cara, who is grinning too, the bitch. I try to sound as casual as I can when I respond with a chirpy “Yes?”

  “I said, this is Louis and Simon. Louis is the ballet’s head set designer and Simon is his best friend.” She points to the Chris Hemsworth look-alike when she says Louis, and to the man of indescribable gorgeousness when she says Simon.

  I smile up at both of them.

  “Hi, I’m Addie.”

  Anthony chimes in loudly, “They already know, Aunty Addie, Cara called your name three times, but you were staring at that man.” He points at Simon.

  Everyone bursts out laughing—everyone except Simon. He’s watching me, still smiling, but his eyes are so intent on mine, that I can’t seem to look away from him either. There’s an expression in his eyes that is familiar and foreign and it makes me curious. It’s only when Lilly jabs me in the ribs that I realize I’m staring—again—and I look away.

  Fuck!

  I pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I can’t battle the blush I know is spreading like wildfire across my face. “I’m so sorry,” I say and quickly try to recover. “I… I thought you looked familiar and was trying to place you.”

  Simon flashes his stupidly perfect smile at me, displaying a row of white, straight teeth. “Believe me, we haven’t met.”

  “Well, I…” I have no clue what to say. This man has caused my brain to melt. I have no idea what is happening to me, but I feel like I just stuck my fingers in a fucking light socket.

  Cara comes to my rescue and fills the awkward silence.

  “We’re headed to Green Park and then to Buckingham Palace. What are you fellas up to?”

  Louis tells Cara they are headed to Piccadilly Circus for something or the other, but I’m too lost in my mortification to even try to pay attention to what they are saying.

  They turn to say goodbye and we all shake hands politely, but when Simon shakes my hand, his huge, warm palm engulfing my much smaller one, my whole arm vibrates and I look up at him. When our eyes meet, something in his expression makes me feel like I just stepped off a ledge. Right now, I understand the expression “lost in your eyes” in a way I never have before.

  “Nice to meet you, Addie. See you around?” His voice is smooth and deep. His mouth, with an upper lip slightly fuller than the bottom, is no longer smiling, but his eyes are full of mischief and sparkling.

  “Yes, sure. Nice to meet you, too,” I say, then snatch my hand back. He winks at me, like we are sharing a secret. Except, I’m sure we are not. And I have a feeling he’s laughing at me.

  As my group turns to continue our walk toward Buckingham Palace, Lilly links her elbow through mine and winks at me. “He was hot, sis… and you were struck stupid,” she says through a chuckle.

  I try to disengage my arm, but she holds on tightly. “I was not. I said he looked familiar, I was trying to place him.” Everyone, including my mother, laughs out loud. I roll my eyes at them.

  I’m sticking to this lie. I know no one believes me, but I don’t care. I have spent the last thirteen years of my life working to get to the place I’m at now. I’m not chaste, I’ve had lovers, but no one serious and no one who I care to see again. I’ve been on a mission to fulfill those promises. I haven’t had time for distractions and I certainly don’t want to lose my focus now that I’ve finally gotten to where I want to be. I’ve always been very good at keeping people at arm’s length. But, I can tell he would be challenge.

  With just one look at Simon a million questions leap to my mind. Who is he? What is his last name? Where is he from? How does he know Louis? All of that sends warning bells clanging through my brain.

  This is dangerous. Lingering means feelings, and feelings mean pain when they walk away from you or betray you.

  I glance back at my mother who stopped with Anthony to tie his shoelace. I won’t ever let myself be like her. I’m not saying I’ll be alone, but I don’t want to be with anyone who can make me feel like I want to give up everything for him. I don’t want someone whose presence will linger when he is gone.

  I catch up with Cara who is walking ahead of us. I shake off the wistfulness threatening to ruin my mood. I’ll probably never see him again anyway.

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  Grip

  by

  Kennedy Ryan

  * * *

  “Neither of us has been in a serious relationship in years.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.” I stand and slide my feet into the Jimmy Choos. “You haven’t exactly been waiting around, have you?”

  “Damn right I haven’t been waiting around.” He doesn’t get up, but his firm hold on my wrist stops me from walking away. “I’m not Rhyson.”

  I look down at him, frowning my confusion.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when Kai put Rhyson in the friend zone?”

  Of course I do. For a long time, my sister-in-law Kai denied the attraction between her and Rhyson.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “When Kai wasn’t checking for Rhys, I assumed he had to be sleeping with other girls.” Grip shrugs. “I mean, he and Kai were just friends. But, nope. He said he only wanted Kai and didn’t sleep with anyone else.”

  “Then you’re right.” I tug at my wrist, but he holds on tight. “You’re definitely not Rhyson.”

  “It was months, Bristol. She shut him out for months. Not years.”

  “I’m not shutting you out.” I release a tired breath. “I’m living my life, and you’re living yours.”

  “Right.” He nods and turns his mouth down at the corners. “So, if you won’t be with me, then I’ll fuck whoever the hell I want. If you have a problem with that, you know what to do about it.”

  For a moment, our eyes tangle in the dimness. His words sink into my flesh like briars. Every word out of his mouth only proves that I’m right to get out of here. That I’m right not to give in. If I ever gave him a chance and he fucked around on me . . . I’ve seen what that looks like. It looks like a woman as strong as my mother reduced to pathetic, teary drunkenness.

  “It’s none of my business.” I shift my eyes away from him and to the glittering city skyline just beyond the rooftop.

  “It’s none of your business until you say it is.”

  I force myself to look back.

  “Don’t hold your breath, Grip.” I say my next words with deliberation. “I mean, it’s not like I’m sitting around saving it, either.”

  He pulls me forward, and I press my hand to the hardness of his chest so I don’t fall into him. My knee supports me, pressed against his on the couch.

  “Are you poking me?” One strong hand wraps around the back of my thigh, anger marking his expression. “Do you want to know if it bothers me when you fuck other guys?”

  I just stare at him unblinkingly. He presses my leg, urging me forward until I’m fully on the couch, fully on him, one knee on either side of his legs, facing him. Straddling him.

  “It makes me want to set the world on f
ire.” His words come softly, but the truth roars in his eyes. “To think of you with them.”

  There haven’t been nearly as many men as he probably assumes, but I don’t reveal that. I can’t offer him any relief.

  “You wanna know what consoles me, though?” He looks up at me, calculation in his eyes. Before I can tell him I don’t want to know, he goes on. “For one, I know when we’re together, it’ll only take once for me to fuck their memory out of you.”

  I shoot him an uncertain look. He sounds fierce enough to follow through on that threat right now. I manage to snatch my wrist from his grasp. I back off his lap, walking swiftly toward the steps that will take me back into his loft. I’m only a few steps down when he calls from the top.

  “It also helps that I know how much it bothers you, too.”

  I freeze on the fourth step, my palm pressed to the wall.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” The words echo in the narrow stairwell, sounding much more confident than I feel inside.

  “The other women.” He mock-sighs behind me like he’s getting impatient. “Like I don’t see it, Bris.”

  I know I should keep going, but I’m stuck on the stairs, afraid of what he has perceived. He slips past me and down onto the step below, his height still putting him eye level with me.

  “You think I’m that oblivious?” He walks his fingers up my arm. “You always conveniently have somewhere to be when I’m with someone else.”

  “I’m busy.” I study my shoes on the step, not looking up. “I have more to do with my life than hang around waiting for you to screw some groupie.”

  “And you watch me.” He dips his head until he traps my eyes. “You watch me all the time. You can’t keep your eyes off me any more than I can keep my eyes off you.”

  “You’re delusional.” I offer a hollow laugh. “Thanks for dinner.”

  I shove past him, squeezing between the stairwell wall and the taut muscles of his body.

  “You don’t want to know the third thing that consoles me?” he asks at my back.

  “No,” I fling over my shoulder. Only a few steps to go and I’ll be in his loft and then out the door.

  “They don’t satisfy you.” He plays the comment like a trump card. “Sexually, I mean.”

  My hand is on the knob to his loft, but I look up at him, anger overtaking the fear and confusion of the last few moments.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” I snap. “To presume you know anything about my sex life.”

  “Oh, but I do.” He takes the few steps separating us until he’s right in front of me, his hard body pressing me against the door. “Remember last year when you bought your cottage and invited us all over for dinner?”

  I have no idea where he’s going with this, but I can’t pretend I’m not curious. I just stare at him, knowing he doesn’t need my permission to go on.

  “Everyone was playing cards, and then I left the room and was gone for a long time.” He presses his forearm to the door behind me and over my head until our bodies are practically flush. “Remember?”

  “You said my chili sent you to the bathroom,” I say breathlessly.

  I'm not a great cook and was surprised the chili turned out halfway decent. Grip was the only one who complained.

  “I’m sorry about that.” He grins at me, his eyes lighting with temporary mischief. “I lied. Your chili was pretty good. It really was. No, I wasn’t in the bathroom. I went to your bedroom. Ya know. To explore.”

  “My bedroom?” I can’t believe him. “How dare you?”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I have no problem playing dirty. I welcome it actually. But I stumbled upon something in the drawer by your bed that was very telling.”

  There’s two drawers in my bedside table. One holds journals and a few items that would tell him too much about my feelings. That drawer remains locked, so he wouldn’t have seen what was inside. But the other drawer . . .

  “I’ve never seen so many vibrators in one place.” Grip’s grin is half teasing, half cruel. “Residential, of course. You’ve got your own black market sex store in there.”

  My face heats, and I cannot even form words. Embarrassment chokes me.

  “I figure anyone with that many vibrators can’t be coming on the regular. With a guy, I mean,” he clarifies unnecessarily.

  “Stop it.” I fire the words at him, so angry, so humiliated I want to slap him.

  “It’s okay.” With gentle fingers he brushes the heavy hair back from my forehead. “I think I understand the problem. It isn’t you. It’s them.”

  I push away from the wall, only to be blocked and gently but firmly pressed back against the door.

  “Guys, we can be so clumsy.” He shakes his head and sighs. “You know? Quick. Selfish.”

  He trails fingers down my arm to link our fingers.

  “See, I bet they start here,” he whispers, slipping his hand between us until his fingers lightly drift across the space just below my belly where my thighs juncture. My panties soak with the promise of his fingers. My breath catches at the brief contact where I crave him most.

  “When they should start . . .” His hand glides up and over my belly and between my breasts. Over the curve of my shoulder and neck until he reaches his destination. He finally taps my temple three times. “Here. They should start here and work their way down because your mind is your most erogenous zone, Bris. I look forward to making you come with my words alone.”

  * * *

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