Morg shakes her head. “Our kiss doesn’t change anything.” She air quotes on the word kiss. “Friends, remember?”
I chew the corner of my lip. “It changed everything for me.” I take another step forward, forcing her behind me. With an exasperated headshake she puts the headphones back on. I look at the target, bring up the gun, and pull the trigger back in a quick succession. It hits my mark—the center. I smirk. When I turn around, her arms are folded under her huge tits…like an eagle on a perch. My smirk widens at her irritation. Dropping the gun, I hold my other hand out and gesture in a you understand? manner. My perfect shooting tactics aren’t what she’s focused on. She’s still dwelling on my confession.
“How did it change everything?”
I swallow hard. “I broke up with them.”
Her usually narrowed eyes widen. Score. “What do you mean you broke up with them? All three of them?”
I nod, matching her stance with my bulky arms crossed across my own chest.
“Why?” Her voice is shrill. I’ve shocked the shit out of Morganna. That should earn me some points in her book. “I mean, what were you thinking? I’m with Alex now.”
“You don’t want to be,” I counter. I know she doesn’t want to be with him. I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes in my words—tries to understand exactly what I mean to convey. I broke up with Sasha in a café after I left Chloe. I had a full weekend of angst. I cringe when I think of next weekend when I’ll be all alone. I need to work Morganna fast.
She throws her arms down by her sides. “You can’t do this to me, Steven. It’s not fair. I was going to have sex with him tonight. Did you know that? I had it all planned out. Now you go and tell me you broke up with your girlfriends. What am I to make of that? Tell me exactly what to make of that.”
I sigh. Thank God she hasn’t fucked him. I thought for sure she had. I can deal with this because now I can thwart it with all my damn might. Ol’ Stevey isn’t out of the game quite yet. “It can mean everything or nothing. Ball’s in your court, M. Sex with the STD, though?” I chuckle, an asshole move, I know, but cocky Steven needs to take control of this situation without her realizing it. “You can’t plan sex.” She tilts her head, urging me to continue.
Nonchalantly, looking over her shoulder at the target, I brush a few strands of hair out of her face. My fingers graze her cheek lightly and I leave my hand there, my thumb resting on her chin. Her gray eyes close a touch when they meet mine.
With her rapt, I say, “Sex is primal. Its mouths, hands, sweat, and skin. It’s uncontrollable reactions. It’s tongues, asses, delicious wetness, unbearable connection…it’s absolute and irrefutable fire.” She wets her lips. Shaking my head, I say, “You don’t plan sex. Not you. Definitely not me.” I let my hand fall away, stroking her neck before I pull away. She leans into my hand, craving connection.
Ignoring my advance, she says, “Why are you doing this now?” Her normally clear voice falters. “It’s not fair. I of all people know fair when I see it. You…” She waves her hand at my body and face, and then perches it on her hip. “Are not fair. You’re not playing by the rules. You come at me with your sex appeal wafting like a Yankee candle and confuse me to no end. I don’t get confused, Steven. You are my friend. Friend.” Her accent punctuates every word she speaks.
I motion to her body, mirroring her. “I have no need to play by the rules anymore. I did for far too long. There is nothing confusing about what I’m proposing. I’m only wafting the vibes because it’s you.” I smile.
Morganna throws her hands up in the air, defeated. “Great. Now you’re proposing things. I need to get out of here. I need some air, I need to breathe. I’ll return a few phone calls.” I see her eyes darting for the exit.
I’m losing my grasp. “Only sex,” I growl.
“What?” Her head whips to face me, her black hair swinging around one shoulder.
“I get it, M. Stone. I get it. We’re similar and you’re trying to push me away because of it. It’s best to stick with the brand of crazy you’re accustomed to. If you weren’t so busy repelling that notion, you’d understand how perfect we’d be together. But if you can’t then please, at the very least, have insanely amazing sex with me. Don’t have sex with that guy just because you planned to—because you think it will be different. I broke up with Chloe and Sasha as a peace offering…as a way to show you that I want to give us a legitimate try. As fucked up as that would sound to a stranger, I know you get it. You’ll be the only one. I swear. How long have you known me? You know I’m serious.” I thump my fist over my heart. “No one has to know about what we do except you and I and whatever surface we mutually decide we want to fuck on.”
My dick hardens at the word fuck and also because fucking Morganna on every surface in my house forces its way to the forefront of my mind. In my backwards logic, I know I can get her to fall for me if we’re intimate. I’m confident in my skills in the sack, but even more confident in her feelings for me—or at least her desire to be with a real man. Male and female friends are always only just-the-tip away from being more.
Her neck works as she swallows. Her smoldering gaze is still all mine, wandering over my face looking for any trace of humor. She’s considering my offer, balancing the sexual gratification with the emotions that she knows will come. “Trust me. It’s worth it,” I say, helping her decision.
“I’ll consider it. If I do say yes, I’m not breaking up with Alex. You’d be a hypocrite if you asked me to. If he’s agreeable to our arrangement, then I see no problem with what you’re offering.” Her gaze shifts to the ceiling and then falls back to my face. My heart is pounding. Half out of blistering anger and the other half beats of excitement, for the thrill of the chase. “I may be a classy southern lady, but I’m smarter than to put all my eggs in one basket again. I want my options.” Admirable. I’ll give her that. She’s obviously a woman after my own heart. I imagine her daddy, Earl, hearing these words and have to hold back a cringe.
I bite my lip. I should have known better. This would never be cut and dry. I look at her glistening mouth and can’t help but smile. “Touché,” I say, pulling her in. I plant a dry kiss on her forehead, letting my lips linger longer than I usually would.
Morganna turns around, places her ear protection back on, and aims the small, black handgun at the target downrange. Her small frame freezes as she says, “I know exactly what I’m doing.” She pulls the trigger.
Fuck me if that bullet doesn’t land square in the chest of the target.
Morganna
“I’m going to take a small break from cases for a little while. To catch up on everything I have on my plate at the moment.” I’ve done well for myself. I can do whatever I want and not worry about finances. It’s a luxury I’ve worked hard for. Every once in a while I try to pull back on my workload to stabilize my mental health. Now, reflecting back on my conversation with Steven about his sexual offer, I realize I may need some immediate mental health time to myself.
I’m not sure what I was thinking even telling him that I would consider his offer. I can’t. It goes against everything I stand for as a good southern, professional woman. Steven and his otherworldly charm and… let’s be honest, his muscles, lured me into his trap. He baited it perfectly. He knows me too well.
Phillipe lingers in my office, on the phone with a client relaying my message. He ends the call and gracefully sways into the chair next to mine. “Did the gardener finish cleaning up all the branches and debris from the storm?” I ask, trying to throw him off his assistant game.
“Yes. You haven’t taken a break since Stone died. What’s up?” Phillipe asks. I continue scrolling through my inbox, flagging messages in order of importance. A pang pierces my chest at the mention of his name. I miss that name and that man something fierce. My stolen forever. All of the issues I’m currently dealing with would be moot if he were still alive, loving me like no one else is capable. He’s not. I blow out a long breath.
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I click an e-mail from a private investigator and speed-read. “My personal life is exploding and I don’t want it to affect my work.”
“I didn’t think your personal life could implode ever again after what you’ve already dealt with.”
He’s right. It was the hardest part of my life. Everything that comes after Stone’s death won’t seem so horrible. That’s a good thing, I guess. I let my eyes scan the e-mail during a lull and then click an e-vite from my girlfriend, Lainey. It’s a dinner party. I do what everyone does when they get an e-vite: I look at the guest list and see who has already responded.
I glance at Phillipe, his almond brown eyes matching perfectly with his coifed hair. “I just want a break for a little while. It’s been too long since I focused my energy on anything except work. Personal time in the sense that I get a break, Philippe. You’ll get a break too, obviously. Don’t question it. I was thinking about heading back south for the holidays. It’d be nice to see my family.”
I want to slap the small part of my brain that whispers that Steven will have the same time off for the holidays. If a SEAL is home and not deployed, they get Christmas off. Christmas is the sacred time of year where any and all concrete plans are safely made. Stone and I would go on a winter vacation every year at the end of December because it’s something we could actually plan and it wouldn’t fall through. Now, years have passed since I’ve taken time off. Time equals thinking about things. Things that evolve into crying fits and missing my old life. Missing Stone. I think I’m finally ready to face the holidays without my work.
“A paid vacation? I’m in.” Phillipe starts crooning some Christmas song in the lowest voice I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. I laugh while reading another e-mail.
“Of course paid. I just need you to do me a favor and keep my schedule under wraps. Confirm me for Lainey’s dinner party please.”
Quickly jotting a note down, he says, “Who don’t you want to know you’re taking time off?” Holding a finger in the air, he figures it out. “Steven. You don’t want the big, studly, wildly funny beast to know you’ll be off. Alex can know, then?”
Alex. My stomach sours when I think about him. I haven’t given him a fair shot and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to. I can’t let him go for fear of slipping under with Steven. I’d drown in whatever poison he specializes in. Our cell phones ring at the same time. My line is tied to my assistant’s.
“Speak of the devil.” He sneers prettily, holding up his cell with a blinking photo of Steven. My heart flutters a little, but I remind that scoundrel it has no reason to get excited. Steven is a player. Possibly even the definition of the word. Though I know for a fact he would never play me. I’m not sure I believe him when he says he wants to give our relationship a legitimate chance. It’s so out of character, but is it really? I’ve suspected that he’s wanted more than friendship for a long time. I’ve wanted more than friendship. Now, just to admit that to him and the sane part of my brain.
Pressing the button on my Bluetooth earpiece, I answer. “Steven.”
I hear his smile. It’s not just a saying either. I swear that man’s smile has a sound. A feeling. “Morganna the lovely. How are you today?”
“I’m busy, Steven. What’s up?” I can’t help the traitorous smile that inches its way across my face. I check it when I realize how long my to-do list for the day actually is. There are a million things I should be doing at this moment.
He coughs once. “A couple things are up.” He smiles again. “I’m leaving for a trip tomorrow and I was hoping I could take you out for dinner tonight. You choose the place.” Normally I wouldn’t think anything about grabbing dinner with Steven. We eat together on a regular basis. I’m convinced most of the people in our life think we’re already doing the nasty on the side. Male and female relationships are always construed that way. I’ve never been one to care what others think. As long as I’m true to myself, I can take my next breath. One glance at my day runner on my desk and I know what my answer should be.
“Yes,” I say, because wasn’t I just meandering about being true to myself? Plus, it always makes me nervous when the guys take trips. When they deploy for six-month spurts? I basically have a mental breakdown in which I smile wide and say my goodbyes and crumble the second I get into the confines of my bedroom. “You pick the restaurant. I’ll be ready to go at seven thirty.” I want to go to dinner with him. I glance sideways at Phillipe because he’s waving his arm and mouthing something to me. The only word I make out is Alex. He’ll have to stop by later than he planned on if he wants to hang out tonight.
Scratch that. I need to cancel Alex. My subconscious knows how true that really is.
“That was much easier than I thought it would be. Does this mean you’ve decided to ditch the bitch and be my girlfriend?” Steven sings, very terribly, the last part. “Don’t answer that question. I’ll pick you up later.” He ends the call.
I take my blue tooth out of my ear, slamming it on my desk, and retreat to my bedroom. I call to Phillipe on my way out, letting him know that I’m taking a quick break. I ignore the shrill call of my cellphone and close my bedroom doors behind me. When the sound of my hectic life downstairs is muted, I lean my head against the cold, heavy wooden doors. Doors that Stone chose—doors that have seen me at my most intimate. Wood that knows me better than most of my friends.
Turning my head, I stare at the framed artwork that covers my light blue walls. The images are of every tattoo Stone Sterns had on his body the day he died. The artists recreated each piece by photograph. It was my way of never forgetting him. Now when I glance around, I feel stuck, swallowed whole by his memory, unable to let go with him littering my walls and plastering every square inch of my heart. I can’t give anyone a legitimate chance with Stone haunting my soul. Isn’t that what true love means?
With a red fingernail I trace one of my favorite pieces. The lobster body with my own head, my resting bitch face on full display. I laugh. It comes out as a strangled sob. I take it off the wall and continue on to the next framed image. It’s a beautiful script with a perfect Stone-ism: “Swallow life whole.” I’ve been chewing up my life in tiny pieces since he left me—cautious, predictable, and half living. That quote sums up the man that I loved…the man that brought life out of me. I leave that one on the wall and tearfully remove the remaining pieces from my space. I pile them in several stacks by my door.
Sitting in front of my mirror, I fix my tear stained makeup, comb my fingers through my hair, and ready myself to tackle the rest of my day. Stone would want me to live life, but the lump in my throat only seems to grow when the piles of Stone catch my eye in the mirror’s reflection.
I can’t look back. I can’t change the past or the decisions that led to his untimely death. Those were his choices to make. His life to swallow.
I close my eyes for a few seconds and then head back to my office. I sit down at my desk and ready myself for my two o’clock videoconference. When Phillipe comes in I make sure to ask him to clear the new piles in my bedroom and to let Alex know I won’t be seeing him tonight. I make a note to call him before my date tonight. I need to stop kicking that dead horse. My daddy would be appalled at my behavior.
Alex is an understanding type of man. He’s rational. Deep down he must know that we don’t click the way we’re supposed to. The fact that I’ve been able to make excuses to not sleep with him should have waved a giant red flag. His patience knows no bounds. I shrug. It’s business. He’ll understand. I’m not leaving him a choice.
With my resting bitch face in place, I work. But for the first time in a long time my chest feels lighter.
I have life to swallow whole.
Right on time, Steven pulls into my circular driveway, stopping his truck in front of my front door. I watch him saunter up through a stained glass panel on the side of my entrance, taking deep breaths. He’s clean-shaven and he’s wearing a button-up shirt and slacks. His hair is still wet, so I
know he came directly from the boxing gym. He’s been there more frequently lately. I attribute it to the fact that he doesn’t have girlfriends to entertain…or anyone to have sex with these days. The tall door creaks as I pull it open before he can barge in.
My hair and makeup are perfect. Phillipe helped me get ready before I dismissed him for the day. Some may say he’s underpaid for all of his skills that I partake in. Cocking my head to the side and not hiding my perusal of his body, I say, “You’re late.” There it is. The smile that can be heard around the world.
“I’m right on time, M. That dress. Those shoes. You are absolutely edible.” He pulls me into a hug and I breathe—long and deep and cleansing. “You dressed as a man-eater on purpose. That’s your game tonight, Ms. Sterns?”
I clutch him tighter, drawing strength from his familiarity. His humor only makes me feel more at home in his arms. “It was a bad day today. I dressed like a man-eater because that’s the path I’m on. I’ll just apologize in advance.”
He pulls away and narrows his eyes. “We have reservations. Tell me all about it in the truck,” he responds, tucking his arm around my waist and guiding me toward the passenger side. When he enters on the other side, I glance his way. His sculpted jawline works as he decides what to say next. My guess is he’s swaying between a joke or a serious conversation.
I helpfully supply the serious for him. “I’m having a hard time with your offer, Steven. I can’t turn my cheek to the feelings I have for you anymore. I also can’t figure out if you’re truly reformed or if it’s a good idea to make the same mistake twice, but then I realized something today. If anything ever happened to you, I would care no matter what. If you get shot, or if you got in a car crash, I’d die inside. Today, Stone told me why. You’re already in my heart. You’ve had me, be it friends…or currently, more, for longer than anyone else. That doesn’t mean I’m any less afraid of what that means.”
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