You Are Here

by S. M. Lumetta

  I chuckled. “He’s in there, Viv. He just doesn’t think he’s worth it, but I know he is. Can you believe that?”

  She offered a weak smile. “I want to.”

  We chatted lightly about Vivi’s upcoming appointment with a new fertility specialist as she helped me straighten up the anxiety-induced mess I’d made. She claimed to feel somewhat positive about it, and though I was distracted, I did my best to show her my support.

  Before she left, she insisted I come back to my “suite” at her place for the night, at least. She was worried about my breakdown and said Nash was adamant that she not come home without me.

  “You told Nash?” I shrieked.

  “I hadn’t gone into the office yet, and Nash is off today. He heard me talking to you,” she said, exasperated. “He’s worried about my sisterwife.”

  “Stop,” I groaned. “Fine, I’ll go. I don’t really know that I want to be alone tonight anyway.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grey

  Denial

  Despite the fact that Lucie had permeated every waking thought, I knew my best bet was to finish my job and get the hell out of town. Lucky for me, I had a contact in D.C. that would help me do both.

  I hopped a train out of Penn Station as soon as I could. As if the torture of blocking her from my mind wasn’t enough, the grandfatherly guy sitting next to me couldn’t shut up the entire way. Against my will, I heard all about his late wife and how they met. The song they first danced to. How he proposed. The names of every one of their kids and sixteen grandkids and everything in between.

  Maybe I could have given him a look to scare him from talking to me, but the truth was every morsel of his life made me think of Lucie.

  I am so fucked.

  Once off the train, I jumped in a cab to the National Mall and pulled out my phone during the ride. I dialed the number from memory. She answered on the second ring.

  “Hunter.”

  “Prey.” The exchange hadn’t been used in well over three years, but I had faith … and waited a beat.

  “Wrong number, sir. You’re looking for the Office of the Director, American History. Mr. Abraham leaves at six,” she replied and hung up.

  “Change of plan, sir,” I called to the driver through the partition. “Lincoln Memorial, please.”

  I felt a small relief in the familiarity of the job … but it didn’t last. The exchange of money and information stretched over the course of three days and that meant a lot of waiting. And lots of time to think. About Lucie, because of course I couldn’t think of anything else. I tried to pass the time as I used to, diving into research and anything work related, but it didn’t help much.

  Regardless, the transaction was smooth and simple—exactly as I like it. When it was done, though, I felt hollow—more than I ever had.

  Maybe I should have seen that coming, because along with information about the assignment, I requested in-depth information on Lucie and her family. And mine. She would send those answers as soon as she got them. Due to the details of my request, they would take longer.

  I hoped nothing unusual came up and that alone concerned me. I couldn’t figure out what I really wanted anymore. Everything weighing on and racing through my mind manifested in some kind of near-constant physical discomfort. I thought I was hungry so I ate. I thought I was tired so I tried to sleep and couldn’t. Nothing worked.

  Denial is not just a river in Egypt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucie

  Lost

  Three days later, I was on my way back to my apartment and alone with my thoughts again. Though it was a struggle, I managed to distract myself with a walk around the neighborhood and a long, leisurely stop at the infamous Strand Bookstore for a new read. Wandering every floor made me feel better, or maybe it was just the smell of books. It was grounding and a scent that made me happier, even if it was only marginally.

  I stopped at a few other stores, Union Square Park, and my favorite café for an iced latte on the way home, but mostly for the sake of wasting time. When the barista made a strange face at me as I tried to make forced, awkward conversation, I admitted to myself I was avoiding going home.

  The final stretch was a pretty slow meandering, but soon enough, I stood in front of my steps. The door seemed to grow teeth.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to see if I had a text. Sure enough, Vivi messaged.

  You’ll be fine.

  Yet I was the “psychic.” I smiled and quit dragging my feet.

  Once inside, I changed out of my clothes—opting for just my robe—ate some leftover pizza, and curled up in my red chair with one of my new books.

  At around midnight, a noise woke me up. I had fallen asleep reading, and thought I imagined it. I glanced around at the apartment, checking the windows for … I didn’t know, Spider-Man? When I heard it again, I realized someone was at the door. No buzzer had gone off, so they had gotten inside somehow.

  Nerves prickled my skin, but by the time I got to the door to check the peephole, the sensation was gone—a burn soothed by the perfect balm. I opened the door without checking. Not the best practice, but there he was, looking as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. Grey.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Grey

  Chance

  I stood unmoving outside Lucie’s door, trying to talk myself out of it. I’d walked away for a reason. To regain command of my senses. Do my job and disconnect. Nearly four days later, I had even less control than I had before and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  I felt insane. Surely anything I had to say would be useless. After nearly five full minutes, I admitted to myself I wasn’t going anywhere and found the balls to knock. Soon after I knocked a second time, the door opened. The moment she looked at me, I was trapped by those big, haunting gray eyes.

  I am so, so fucked.

  My mouth hung open, but the mixed expression she wore kept me silent. Most of all there was disbelief, and that I understood. At least I thought I did.

  “You came back,” she said. There was little to no inflection to indicate any emotion attached.

  I inhaled and nodded, watching her watch me. It was her turn to evaluate me. She swept her tired gaze around the corridor behind me before her scrutiny returned to my face. She hesitantly stepped forward with a hand held out. As her fingers lightly settled on my cheek, I struggled to say something, but I was too amazed. The tightness in my chest unfurled and I could breathe easy again.

  She let her thumb drift over my lips and my eyes closed. Her other hand cautiously molded to my shoulder. She squeezed my bicep and then pinched the skin there between her fingers.

  I was content to let her explore because it calmed me. I wasn’t particularly concerned that I didn’t know the reason. When her hands left me, I was loath to open my eyes because the tightness had returned.

  A sharp sting across my cheek forced me to. She’d slapped me.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Why did you come back?”

  The bare truth was that I couldn’t think of anything but the base, physical need to get back to her. Not just sex, but comfort. My mind repeatedly told me to run but my body consistently disobeyed.

  “I just … I … you made me feel things that… How did you make me feel? I don’t feel,” I tried to explain, but I couldn’t be sure I was even coherent. “I can’t … seem to get you out of my head.”

  She continued to observe me but she remained quiet. She hadn’t moved so I rushed to fill the silence.

  “That’s why I left, and that’s why I came back.”

  She dropped her head and watched her toes wiggle.

  “You scare me,” I confessed, and the floor seemed to move. “No one scares me. But you do.”

  Her head snapped up so quickly, I thought she might have whiplash. “I scare you?” she hissed. “Try waking up alone, thinking you imagined the whole … whatever happened between us, and then bel
ieving you’re crazy. I thought for sure they’d be putting me in a padded room.” Her voice tightened and pitched, and her face creased with the very real possibility of tears.

  My fingers twitched as if they needed to touch her, to hold her and apologize. “I’m sor—”

  “No!” she shouted, stopping me cold. My arms went limp. “I don’t want your apologies, Grey. I want you. I want us.”

  I sighed, the breath taking with it the straight line of my shoulders. Slumped over, I felt beaten, mentally and physically. “You don’t. I’m not worth it. Trust me.”

  Actually, don’t.

  “I may not know everything about you,” she argued, still appearing a bit unsure of my arrival here tonight. “But I know exactly who’s in here.” She stepped toward me and laid her palm flat on my chest, above my heart.

  Her touch was a balm, and I moved to hold her hands to my chest.

  “You. You are right here,” she told me, matter-of-factly.

  I shook my head. “You don’t know who that is.”

  “You don’t seem to know him very well, either,” she snapped. “That’s fine that you still don’t believe me. Maybe you don’t have any reason to trust me, but whether you like it or not, I saw you. I saw you wearing exactly what you wore, saying exactly what you said when we met, but that’s not all.” She held my face between her hands. “I saw more than you. I saw us.” She closed the argument by kissing me fast. Static at first, her lips slowly parted and took control.

  As I was stubbornly getting used to, my body reacted and I grabbed at her waist to hold her to me. She shoved me away and backed into the apartment, severing the kiss. We stared at each other, just breathing, until her soft voice changed the atmosphere.

  “I knew you’d want me like that. I could feel your mouth, your breath, your hands,” she claimed, her eyes drifting down my chest. She lazily brushed her fingertips across her collarbone as she spoke. Her hands slipped over her breasts and stomach, while the robe she wore parted to the waist. “Touching, grasping, taking … and that’s what hasn’t happened. I never saw the other night before.”

  As she let one hand wander, the other pressed into the apex at her thighs. The flesh of her lower lip disappeared between her teeth, released when she sighed—the sound only slightly more provoking than the sight.

  “What I see is better than your most vivid dream.”

  I swallowed hard, galvanized by her. My mouth agape, I was lost in the haze of arousal. I had been undone.

  Unable to control my impulses anymore, I was jarred by a protective urge. I was jealous, even. I stepped across the threshold, gripping her hips to direct her back inside as I hissed, “Dammit, someone could see you!”

  She pushed hard against my chest, halting my shielding gesture, as well as dousing the effects of her seduction with an icy glare. “That neighbor is so stoned by now, he wouldn’t even be able to walk to the door let alone focus on a pair of boobs.”

  Slightly stunned, I offered a weak smile.

  “And I never invited you in.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face and stepped back as she tightened the sash on her silky robe. She was fucking with me.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect—”

  “What did you expect?”

  That sobered me. I found her eyes. “Nothing. I don’t expect anything from anyone.”

  Her shoulders drooped and she huffed, eyeballing me as if it was a clear cop-out. “Cue the violins.”

  I ground my teeth. “I don’t want sympathy either,” I snapped.

  Anger blazed in her eyes and she puffed out her chest. My attention snagged on her breasts pushing between the gap in her robe.

  “Then what do you want, Grey?” Her question was gentle, but it was deceptively charged.

  My focus danced around her face and settled on her eyes. They held me without demand. Still, I knew then I could only walk away if she told me to.

  “You.”

  With an instant shift of her guarded expression into one of disbelief, she no longer appeared angry. Her shoulders pulled back and her lips parted to take in a breath. Perhaps she was surprised by the bluntness of the answer, or maybe she thought I’d deflect. I wasn’t sure I expected that answer, but as soon as I said it, I knew it was true.

  Her eyes shone with emotion. “But you left.”

  I looked around, half expecting a crowd to have gathered. The skin on my back pricked with the need to get a wall behind it. “May I please come in?”

  She blinked, hastily fidgeting with her sash, the door, her hair. “Um, yes. Sure. Okay.”

  Leading me to the kitchen, she turned and leaned against the small kitchen island. Her face was a tumult of emotions, furiously churning too quickly to identify.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. I felt awkward. “I took advantage of you.” Part of me clearly believed I was in a confessional. “I never should have—”

  “Even if you hadn’t come back, I wouldn’t regret it,” she said, interrupting. “I’m not afraid of making mistakes.”

  Why did it bother me so much that I could be her mistake?

  “I’ll tell you what, though,” she continued. “I’m not wrong about you. Even now, I’m still sure of it. In my gut. I mean, you’re here! You came back. Doesn’t that mean something?”

  She pushed off the counter and stepped up to me, staring hopefully into my eyes. She slipped her arms around my back, and my pulse simultaneously quickened even as tension drained from my muscles. She rested her head on my chest and I closed my arms around her. I felt her sigh even before I heard it, and with it went any remaining will to deny her.

  “I want this,” I whispered, the spirit of confession stronger than that of fear. “With you. But I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” she said, her oath warm on her breath. “I wasn’t supposed to believe you were more than a fantasy, but I did anyway. I want this, too.” Looking up at me, she asked, “Okay?”

  “Okay.” My head shook no as I said it.

  She pushed up on her toes, pressing her lips to the underside of my chin. Resting her elbows against my shoulders, one hand formed to the back of my neck while the other moved my hair from my forehead. My fingers sank into her hips.

  “You might not be totally there yet, Grey,” she said, so much softer now. “But you’ll get there. You will.”

  I dropped my gaze and felt her optimism tugging at my lips.

  She glowed, a radiant smile of triumph brightening her face. “There you are.”

  Everything was all wrong, even if it felt so good. I wanted to tell her everything, but it seemed like the stupidest thing I could do right now. I tried to stop thinking about it all as we stood together, her body pressed against mine, but I wondered how she would react to what I do. At the moment, it felt as if it were all in the past.

  “I’ve never been so captivated with anyone in my entire life,” I said, stroking her cheek with my thumb as she gazed back at me.

  “See?” Her voice pitched in her excitement. “You’re here with me and it’s just the beginning. I don’t know every step, but sweet lips, if you’re willing to take the journey, I’m more than happy to lead the way.” She chuckled and laid her head on my chest, humming. Her body curled to mold tightly to mine as she wiggled her hips, trying to rub as much of herself against me as possible.

  My quiet laugh was unexpected, possibly on both our parts, but what did not surprise me was how she completely shifted the mood. And by mood, I mean my dick was all-in for a repeat performance of the other night, or better, a continuation.

  “Hmm.” She grinned—she knew what she did to me. “Do you want to take a bath?”

  I threw her a curious look. “What the hell is it with taking a bath? You know this is the second time you’ve brought that up, right?”

  She cleared her throat, a strange laugh trilling out after the sound. “Um, never mind.”

  She hooked her fingers over my shoulders from behind and pul
led herself higher. She closed her eyes and settled her lips on mine.

  I fought for focus. “Don’t you think we need to talk?” I said, my words smashed between us.

  She dropped her heels to the floor as her grip on me fell loose at my sides. Her face was wiped clean of mischief, transformed to a spot-on teenage mope. “Oh, right. Yeah. We should. Talk. More.”

  I paused to take a deep breath, not just to shed the guilt for killing her mood, but to try and dampen the need to bury myself inside her repeatedly.

  “Believe me, we could avoid talking for days.”

  She grunted a laugh in response.

  I continued, “I’m just trying to catch up. I mean, I want to know what happened to you. I want to know who you are and why you can do this to me.”

  She grinned and her shoulders folded forward as if she were shy. Nodding, she studied the floor as she spoke. “I know. I will tell you, and I’ll listen to whatever you’ll tell me,” she said. She looked up, her eyes wide, and kissed the tips of two fingers together before pressing them to my lips. “I promise.”

  The glint in her eye was back, and it shot warmth up and down my spine. I was going to bring it all crashing down, for sure, but right now? Fuck it, I was going to enjoy myself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucie

  Bubble

  “I just wanted a kiss,” I told him as we sat in a post-coital cuddle, leaning against the wall near the windows.

  He laughed for a solid minute—or at least it felt like it. “So that’s why you dropped your robe and unbuttoned my jeans. I guess I read that signal all wrong.”

  I giggled against his chest, loving the happy quake of laughter beneath my cheek. From that cozy vantage point, I surveyed the path of destruction from the kitchen through the living room. He managed to knock over a stool from the breakfast bar, which broke off a leg. A small lamp crashed off the table next to my red chair thanks to my flailing, and someone had pulled on the curtains hard enough that one of the rods came down. We could sure do some damage when we were horny.