by James, Leigh
I might not understand the moon, but I knew my own heart. I watched the outline of John’s chest rise and fall. I grabbed his hand and held it. I couldn’t imagine a day without him. It was simply that I had lived before him and that nothing had made sense, I’d been disconnected and alone. And then he came for me. Now I couldn’t imagine ever being apart from him again, and it wasn’t a rescue fantasy, it wasn’t wish-fulfillment. You would have had to have known what you were wishing for in the first place.
I knew he believed in fate: he believed that everything happened for a reason. I didn’t know what I believed in, outside of what I was feeling right now. But I trusted it. I didn’t have a single doubt anymore, about any of it, and I wasn’t going to look back or feel bad about what I had or hadn’t done, about where I’d come from. He’d shown me that he loved me, in spite of it all. And he’d shown me his scars, and I loved him. In spite of it all.
“So…we’re going to dinner?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, smiling at me and lacing up his sneakers.
“After you go for a run?” I asked.
“After WE go for a run,” he said. “You forget: this is MY perfect date, and on my perfect date, WE go running together.”
“Because in your perfect world, we’d do everything together?”
“Well, no. In my perfect world I’d go to Red Sox games with the guys and I’d definitely go to South America without you. And I’d be happy if you wanted to go to the grocery store without me. I’d be perfectly happy if I never had to go to the grocery store again,” he said.
“I can’t picture you in a grocery store,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “I’m too sexy for a grocery store.”
He finished tying his shoes and looked up at me. “Now put on your sneakers before I start using my sexiness on you again, and we never get out the door. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and curtsied. He raised his eyebrows at me. “It’s your perfect date,” I said and shrugged. “I’m just trying to be pleasant.” I tossed my hair over one shoulder and looked at him with what I hoped was a smoldering look. Even though it felt like we’d had sex about a thousand times in the past two days, I would rather have him take me back to bed than drag me for a run.
“No dice, Liberty,” he said and smiled. “My sexiness is unaffected by your vastly superior sexiness, probably because we’ve been going at it so much I won’t be able to even run straight as it is. Now go get dressed before I start taking carbs and girly movies away from you.”
I laced up my sneakers and went outside to face the music.
“We’re going to have to bring you up very slowly,” John said a little while later. He wasn’t even breathing hard, but I was huffing next to him. We’d probably only gone a mile, and he was certainly taking it easy on me, but I was having a hard time. Everything hurt. Not really my muscles, because there wasn’t that much left of them. It was my joints. Every step, I could feel my bones hitting each other hard. I guess there wasn’t as much padding as there used to be, and I missed it.
We stopped and walked. He handed me a water bottle and watched me drink until he was satisfied. “Eva seemed better,” he said. “She said that she’d gotten some sleep and that helped. Catherine had given her a list of things she wanted, including some food, and so she was going to bring that to her today.”
He was quiet for a minute. “She thinks it’s a mistake to take her to the hospital tomorrow. She thinks she just needs more time.” He started running again, at a very slow pace, slow enough so that I could keep up walking. “She wants to take her back to California,” he said, shaking his head. “She knows we’re going to have to go out on assignment in a couple of weeks and she doesn’t want her up here by herself.”
“What do you think?” I asked. I couldn’t picture leaving Catherine here alone in a hospital, especially not now, when she wasn’t even speaking to Ian.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Boston has the best hospitals in the country. But maybe we could find out about a transfer out there, when we’re about to leave, so that Eva can be with her. I’ll look into it.”
“Does Catherine know yet?” I asked. “About tomorrow?”
“Nope,” he said, looking out at the peaceful trail in the woods. “The shit is totally going to hit the fan.”
“Totally,” I said.
“That’s why I’m glad we’re going to my favorite restaurant tonight,” he said. “Il Posto. So we can eat like it’s The Last Supper, because it sort of is.”
You can say that again, I thought. And you don’t even know the half of it.
“Oh, my God,” he said. He was standing at the bottom of the landing, holding his hand over his heart.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I said as I walked carefully down the stairs. The dress was short, with tiers of light-gold beading cascading down it. I looked like a modern-day flapper combined with a fairytale princess.
“I’m not. I was actually worried about my heart. You look exquisite. That dress was worth every penny.”
“You like?” I asked and smiled at him. I finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. I was wearing the mile-high gold sandals that matched perfectly. It cracked me up that Michael had been the one to pick them out.
“I love,” John said, but he wasn’t looking at the dress anymore. He was looking into my eyes, beaming.
“I love you, too,” I said, and was pleased to see that we were eye-level, my heels adding several inches to my stature. He was wearing the suit he had on the night I first met him; I hadn’t seen in him it for a long time. “You look gorgeous,” I said. He’d gelled his unruly hair so it was pushed back a bit. He looked clean, rugged and expensive — just the way I liked him.
He leaned in to kiss me and I pulled my head back. “I have about fifty layers of lip gloss on,” I said. “You do not want to get a mouthful of that.”
“You are absofreakinglutely right about that, my dear,” John said, and held out his arm for me. “Corey’s driving us so I can have a drink. Let’s go.”
For once, Corey was quiet. He gave a low whistle when he saw me and then promptly shut up when John gave him a lethal look. “Is this a new car?” I asked. It was an Audi SUV, black and immaculate.
“Newish,” John said. We drove through Warwick to Providence in relative silence, watching the stars come out again. John held my hand firmly, and we both looked out our respective windows. This weekend was going by too quickly for my taste. The only good thing about tomorrow was that Ian and Matthew were going to be back. And hopefully that Catherine was going to get the help she needed.
Providence was a beautiful city. Not that I had that much experience with beautiful cities, but still. We drove over a bridge and I could see dozens of fires lit on the water below, like magic. “What’s that?” I asked John.
“It’s a city art installation,” John said. “They started doing it a couple of years ago. They built fire pits all around the water and light them at night. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It’s mesmerizing,” I said.
“People come from all over to see it,” he said. “And they also come to eat at this restaurant. You’re going to love it. It’s a carb-lover’s paradise.”
“So what do you like about it?” I asked as Corey pulled up outside the restaurant. A valet came over and opened my door for me and held out his hand.
“They have the best lobster,” John said, almost dreamily. “And a wicked hot and dirty martini.”
“Hot and dirty — sounds like you,” I said, under my breath, as the valet delivered me to John. John grabbed my hand and when he grinned at me, I grinned right back. His enthusiasm was infectious. He squeezed my hand and I felt my insides clench. I shook my head and laughed at myself.
“What,” John said, looking at me intensely, and I knew he knew. It wasn’t a question.
“You already know,” I whispered. I squeezed his hand back and I could feel our connection deep in the pit of my belly and bet
ween my legs.
“Maybe we can skip dessert,” John said lowly, as the valet opened the door for us and discreetly looked away.
I blushed scarlet and felt my body flood with heat as John guided me through the door and possessively put his hand on my ass. Whoa, girl, I cautioned myself. No need to go breaking out in hives here. There wasn’t enough of this dress to cover them. Plus, we’d be home in two hours. There was plenty of time for all that.
“I like you this tall,” John said as we followed the short, curvaceous and gorgeous hostess to our table. “It’s easy to grab you strategically.”
“You need to stop,” I said, looking at him, pleading. “I don’t need to be hot and bothered right now. I need to eat so I don’t pass out tomorrow when you make me do that weird plank pose.”
“I’m going to make you do that one later,” John said and smiled at me with feigned innocence as a lightning bolt of desire, almost painful, shot through me. I gave him a warning look and gratefully took my seat — across the table from him. And I crossed my legs. Just because.
The restaurant was gorgeous, of course: stone walls and a roaring fire in the fireplace. Even though it was the end of summer, it wasn’t too hot. It was perfect, just like the hostess, just like the beautiful blond waitress that came to our table, just like the large, fragile-looking wine glasses on our table. John ordered us both martinis and our entire meals, immediately. “I thought you were looking forward to dinner,” I said.
“I am,” he said. “I just want it now. So I can get you back home, all to myself. It’s my perfect date, remember.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”
“Well,” I said, thinking of Catherine. “I can’t drink a martini and walk in these heels,” I said as we were served. I took a sip anyway. It was spicy and cold all at the same time, and I shivered as it warmed me. I’d never had a martini before. One sip and I felt buzzed: Sasha would not approve, I thought briefly, and took another defiant swig.
“I have a couple of small details I need to talk to you about, too,” he said, and put a small turquoise jewelry box up on the table. I felt my heart leap up into my mouth and I gaped at him.
What…is…that? I wondered, reeling, but I couldn’t say anything.
John laughed at my shocked expression and held up his hand. “Calm down, now,” he said. He opened the box and pushed it across the table. “It’s a necklace,” he said, watching my expression carefully.
I looked at it: a pinkish, coppery gold horseshoe lay inside it. “It’s for good luck,” John said, and he got up and stood behind me. He gently gathered my hair and put it over one shoulder. He took the necklace from the box and put the chain around my neck. It was cool against my skin. He bent down and kissed me lightly on the neck. “I won’t ever take it off,” I whispered up to him, and he squeezed my shoulder and sat back down.
“It’s very pretty on you,” he said, and he looked pleased.
“I love it,” I said, and in the back of my mind I felt like I might start crying for some weird reason, so I made myself smile and willed my face to stay intact. There was something about having a jewelry box presented to you at dinner, that was all. I wasn’t expecting anything, but when I opened it, it wasn’t what I expected. I couldn’t even really blame myself: the idea was embedded in every little girl’s psyche, for better or for worse.
“This is so beautiful, John,” I said, touching the necklace. “You didn’t need to get me a gift.”
“I wanted to. It makes me happy to see you wear it,” he said. “And as pretty as that dress is, I can’t wait to see you wear nothing but it.”
“You’re the boss,” I said, bravely. I could hear a quaver in my voice so I had some more of my martini, quick. You wanted something else to be in that box, I thought to myself. Admit it.
I admitted it. It was ridiculous for me to feel that way, I knew. But my heart had surged when I saw it; every wish and dream I’d never let myself have had bubbled to the surface in that instant. I made myself push it aside.
Good thing my Caesar salad and some weird looking, delicious-smelling bread smothered in sautéed mushrooms arrived, because I knew I was being completely, irrevocably ridiculous. Thankfully, John was digging into some sort of thinly-sliced beef with capers on it — I only learned what capers were since I met him, mind you — and seemed to not have noticed anything.
“Actually, I think I’d like dessert,” I said, in between shoveling the delicious food into my mouth. “I think some chocolate would do me good.”
“Goodnight, you crazy kids,” Corey said as he let us out at the front of the house.
“Go to bed,” John said as he collected me from my side of the car. “Breakfast is at six.”
“Back to business,” Corey said and smiled. He drove silently away.
“Six?” I asked, scowling. “Do we have to?”
John sighed and pulled me up the stairs. “Liberty, you have to take this very seriously. You’re still underweight, and you could barely run a mile this morning.” He looked at me, exasperated. “Do you really think I’m willing to take you on assignment like this?”
I turned on him, my eyes flashing. “You promised,” I said, my voice rising almost to a yell.
He held up his hand again to stop me. “I know what I did,” he said, and it sounded like he was fighting to keep his voice even. “But if you think that I’m going to risk losing you, you’ve got another thing coming.”
I looked at him stubbornly and he sighed in frustration. “You have to promise me that you’re going to work as hard as you’ve ever worked. And you have to eat what I tell you, when I tell you. You have to push yourself. You have to promise.” He looked at me and his face was grim.
“Of course I promise,” I said, grabbing his hands. “I don’t want to get hurt. I want to be ready. I want to be able to keep up with you.”
He walked away from me and flopped onto the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a minute. I knew he regretted ever telling me I could go.
Tough, I thought. A deal’s a deal.
“You think you can keep up with me?” he asked. He looked at me and laughed.
“You’re the one who keeps telling me not to underestimate myself,” I said, pulling myself up a little taller and tossing my hair. “I intend to take my training very seriously. You better watch your back. You might have a new second.”
“Really,” he said, arching his eyebrow.
“I’m young,” I said. “And I’m pretty rugged.” I held up my arm and made a muscle. “See?”
He pounced off the bed and grabbed his phone and pointed it at me. “Before and after,” he said. I laughed when the flash went off. “Now one more — with your bicep down, you big goof,” he said and laughed. “I want to remember tonight.” He flashed again and I gave him a big smile. My disappointment over what was inside the turquoise box had been shoved so hard to the back of my mind that my mental knuckles were white; I patted my beautiful necklace and I smiled easily.
I bent down to take off my shoes and John was suddenly behind me. “Don’t take those off,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me up. He carefully gathered my hair and put it over one shoulder and then unzipped my dress. I stepped out of it, making sure to avoid snagging the mile-high heels on the delicate beading. John hung it up for me and then looked at me hungrily. I had on nothing but a creamy, strapless lacy bra, matching underwear, the necklace and the heels.
“That’s more like it,” John said as he loosened his tie. I went to him and undid it, unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his cufflinks. He just stared at me the whole time, his piercing blue eyes taking every inch of me in, caressing me, owning me without touching me. He quickly took the rest of his clothes off and stood before me, naked and erect, and I got to look at his glorious body as it was intended. Every ounce of him was muscle, starting with his massive shoulders. Just looking at those shoulders made me quake, inside and out — he looked so huge it was almost like he was
a caveman, going to come and pick me up, throw me over his shoulder and plunder me, or something. I didn’t know what that meant, but I had a feeling I would like it.
His chest was huge, pectoral muscles that shouldn’t have been humanly possible. They should be sculpted in alabaster, locked in a museum somewhere. He had a six-pack, of course, the likes you had to work for from an early age. And he had those divots near his hips. I don’t know what they were called, but they made me crazy. Like I wanted to clap and squeal every time I saw them. It was as if god had carved a line under his abdomen, leading to his perfect maleness. A beautiful perfect line that I wanted to like and bite and suck and pray to every time I saw it.
Then there were his legs, which had bulging thigh muscles…and above them…let me just say, it was big. It was big and in the light of the room I could see it was pointing right at me. Looking at it like that made me think that maybe there was no way it was going to ever get inside me, that it couldn’t possibly fit, and maybe it wasn’t a good idea to even try. But then another part of me screamed that it was a very, very good idea, and that we should try as soon as possible. That’s when I started to pant.
“Now,” John said. “Get in the shower.”
“With my shoes on?” I asked. I was ready to do whatever he asked, but we had to spare the shoes. I still had some principles.
“Nobody said anything about turning the water on. Yet,” he said, and pushed me in front of him into the bathroom. “In you go,” John said, gently pushing me in. He kissed me then, hard, and I moaned at the intensity of it, and feeling his cock pressing against the inside of my thighs, starting to rub up against me.
“Turn around,” he said urgently. I did and he pushed my back gently down. I put my hands down on the bench and spread my legs willingly. I knew what he wanted. My heels clicked against the tiles in the bathroom and the sound echoed. He ran his hands down my back and freed me from my bra. He pushed himself up against the outside of my panties and started rubbing himself against me, hard, as he grabbed each of my breasts in his hands and started rubbing them. He pulled back for a second — he must have stuck his fingers in his mouth — because when his hands came back, his fingers were wet. He stroked and pinched my nipples until they were painfully elongated.