Digging deeper, I find a few articles published in the newspaper about Skylar from when she was in high school. She was a soccer star. She was offered a full ride to Syracuse University, but she was injured her senior year and had to decline the offer.
Her phone number pops up on my computer screen, and the itch to track it consumes me. I’m sure she’s at home. She made it sound like she didn’t have any plans today.
I can’t do it.
That’s an invasion of her privacy.
Sure, I do it for a living, but only when necessary. I’m not in the habit of tracking people for fun. That would border on stalking. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m stalking her.
Didn’t I cross that line when I started investigating her?
This girl is making me nuts. I’m doing things I wouldn’t normally do. I’m crossing boundaries I hadn’t before. It might be an imaginary line in the sand, but I know exactly how she would react if she found out that I looked into her.
I could be honest with her and tell her. Maybe she’ll take it as a compliment?
Now it’s official. I have lost my damn mind.
Closing my laptop, I relax back into the mountain of pillows on the bed. Closing my eyes, I remember the moment she caught my attention last night. Her legs, the bare mid drift, her tattoo peeking out from under her shirt. Her gorgeous exterior is what caught my attention, but her attitude and sassy persona are why I agreed to have a drink with her.
Why we ended up back here is still a partial mystery.
Did I promise her something? Were we going to have sex? She said we didn’t, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t planning on it, and one, or both, of us fell asleep. Did she invite herself? I can see her doing that. Did I tell her anything about me? If so, what?
These are all questions I need answers to. I won’t be able to stop thinking about her or the missing pieces of last night until I do.
I track her phone to a nearby rec center. Wanting to make it less obvious that I’m going to run into her, I slip into a fresh t-shirt and running shorts. It’s only a few blocks away, so I lace up my tennis shoes and hit the pavement. Thankfully, it’s warmer today than it was yesterday or I’d be freezing right now. With the sun at my back, I’m perfectly comfortable.
Just as I’m about to approach the front door of the center, I notice her phone is on the move. She’s still close. If I run, I might be able to catch up to her.
Stretching for only a few minutes, I take off in the direction she’s headed, jogging as far as I can without making it obvious I’m rushing. Looking down every few minutes to make sure I’m still headed in the right direction, I’m surprised to see I’ve passed her at some point.
Stopping to figure out where I am, I shake my head when I get my bearings. I’m a block north of her parent’s bar. She’s home now. If I go knock on their door it’s going to be obvious that I came looking for her. My plan to accidentally run into her is shot.
Time to man up.
If I want to talk to her and get answers, I need to knock on her door. Hopefully she won’t slam it in my face. I feel there’s a good chance of that happening after the way we left things this morning.
Walking around the back of the building, I locate the door to the stairwell. Once I reach the top of the stairs, I’m faced with choosing a door. There’s one to my right and one to my left. Neither of them offers me any clues to where they lead. They’re both void of any type of numbering or lettering. I wasn’t aware there was more than one apartment up here.
There’s only one way to figure it out.
Dialing Skylar’s number, I wait to hear ringing behind one of the doors. Nothing. Maybe she’s at the bar? I never thought to check there.
Turning, I’m surprised to find Skylar standing at the bottom of stairs, staring up at me. She’s wearing very short running shorts, her legs completely exposed, and a tank top that’s stretched to the max across her body. It fits her like a glove. Her phone is in her hand, the screen lit up from my phone call.
“I never gave you my number,” she says as she climbs the stairs and pushes past me. I don’t have to ask if she’s upset with me. Her tone tells me everything I need to know.
“I know.”
“Why are you here, Jay?”
Opening the door on the left, Skylar walks through, leaving it open for me to follow. Closing it behind me, I take in my surroundings. I’m not sure what I was expecting her place to look like, but it wasn’t this. I thought she lived with her parents.
“I thought you lived with your parents,” I say, motioning around me. My heart beats against the walls of my chest as I wait for her to answer.
“Don’t change the subject.” Damn. She didn’t fall for it. “I do live with my parents. Just not in the same apartment. Why. Are. You. Here?”
“I needed to ask you something.”
“So ask.” Turning her back to me, Skylar walks through a door but doesn’t close it behind her. I stay where I am when I hear water turn on. She’s in the bathroom.
“Why did we end up in my room last night?”
“You seriously don’t remember?” She peeks her head around the corner and raises her eyebrows at me.
“I was pretty drunk, Skylar.”
“You were more than drunk. You could barely stand up,” she hollers, moving back into the bathroom and out of sight.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“You’ll remember eventually.”
“Not likely. Look, I’m sorry I got so drunk. I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and when I’m uncomfortable, I tend to drink to lighten up a little. Apparently, I was incredibly uncomfortable last night. Wait. That’s not what I meant. I mean you make me on edge. In a good way. Shit!” I scream.
This isn’t going the way I imagines. I’m slaughtering everything I planned to say. Instead of complimenting her, I’m basically blaming her, and that’s not what I intended to do.
“Really?” she asks, leaving the safety of the bathroom and leaning against the doorframe. Then she starts to move slowly toward me. Painfully slow. One step at a time. Her eyes never leave mine, and then she’s finally standing in front of me, toe to toe. “I make you uncomfortable.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” I reply, straightening my back. She’s only an inch shorter than I am so our eyes are almost level.
“What is it, then, Jay? Why are you really here? Is there something you want to tell me?”
Yes. No. Maybe. I’m not sure how to answer that. I want to tell her so she understands why I let her leave this morning. I don’t want to tell her because I don't want to relive the pain. I also don't want to have to explain when she asks me why.
Why am I still holding on?
Why haven’t I moved on?
Why won’t I allow myself this, that, or the other thing?
Women have to know these things. The last person I had this conversation with was Bliss. She asked me a million questions and still didn’t understand why after we were done talking.
“Yes, but on one condition,” I finally say.
“What’s that?”
“You can’t ask me any questions. You have to accept my words for what they are. I don’t want to have to explain myself or my decisions. Deal?”
“I think I can handle that,” she says, moving past me and taking a seat on the couch.
Following her lead, I take a seat next to her. Deep breath in, release, and talk. All I have to do is talk.
8
At some point in time, she took my hand and held it. Tears were shed by both of us. I didn’t even bother to hide mine. I knew they were going to make an appearance. They always do when I talk about Chelsea.
My voice remains unemotional as I speak. It’s contrary to the way I feel. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and her name gets caught in my throat a few times.
When I’m done, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask any questions like I expect her to
even though she promised she wouldn’t. It’s a lot to take in. Love. Death. The promise of forever being ripped away. I don’t expect her to understand why I am the way I am, but I want her to respect it.
“That’s all I came to tell you,” I finally say after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.
“Is that all?” she teases, eliciting a smile from me.
“Yeah. That’s all.” Standing, I head toward the door, but I can’t make myself reach for the handle. I don’t want to leave. Now that she knows everything, I want to know everything. Things I can’t look up on my computer. Things that won’t make me feel like I’m invading her privacy because she’s sharing them with me.
“You know,” she says when she realizes I’m not actually leaving. “I was going to go for a run. Want to join me?”
“Didn’t you just go for a run?” I ask without turning around.
“No. I was at the rec center coaching soccer. I made them exercise. Now it’s my turn. You in?”
Looking over my shoulder, I nod. Of course she was coaching kids. Of course, she’s an amazing person who devotes her time to helping others. I knew there was something special about her the moment I saw her standing outside the bar with my phone in her hand. For me to even consider opening up to her, she had to be special.
I never imagined she was this amazing, though.
Bending, I place my hands on my knees and attempt to catch my breath.
“Don’t die on me now, Wright,” Skylar teases as she jogs in place next to me.
We’ve run about two miles at this point. It’s no big deal except, we haven’t turned back toward her place yet. I’m fit. I’m in shape. I’ve also never been much of a long-distance runner. Sure, I run short distances to catch someone who’s trying to get away from me. I have the speed for that.
This is something entirely different. This is speed and distance. It’s killing me.
“I. Don’t. Think. I. Can. Keep. Going,” I say, each word coming between deep breaths. All I want to do is lie down in the middle of the sidewalk right now.
Her feet come to a stop, and her legs gets closer to my face. When her hand touches my lower back, I suck in a deep breath and hold it. Her hands runs the length of my back toward my neck and down again. When I finally exhale, I stand and place my hands on my hips.
“Seriously. Let’s head back to your place at my pace. Unless you want to call me an ambulance. I’ve missed one flight already. I can’t miss another one, and a trip to the hospital would make sure that happens.”
“Or a trip to the morgue,” she says, a serious look on her face.
Skylar takes off before I can respond. Damn woman always gets the last word in. I’m not even sure why it bothers me, but it does.
Handing me a bottle of water, she takes a seat next to me on the couch. I’m still breathing heavily from the last two blocks of our run. She started off slow and steady, keeping pace with me, but once the bar was within her sights, she took off, challenging me to beat her back.
I tried, but I’m no match for her. She was already stretching by the time I reached her door.
“So, Jay. What do you do for a living?” she asks, taking a sip from her water bottle.
Sweat drips off her chin, landing on her glistening chest. I stare for a second before taking a sip of my own and clearing my mind of dirty thoughts. Like how much I want to rip that tank top off of her. Or the fact that her shorts would slip off easily if I just gave them a tug.
“I run a security company.”
“What kind of security?”
“Mainly, our clients need information on people. Either they’re looking for someone or want information on someone. We provide that for them.”
She thinks it over for a moment before she replies. I see the moment she puts all the pieces together, and I hope like hell she isn’t mad.
“Information like phone numbers?”
“Yeah. Like phone numbers, addresses, background information.”
“What else do you know about me, then?”
Honesty is never the best policy. If I play dumb, she’s going to call me on it, though.
“Not much. Anything you want to tell me?”
“Depends on what you already know. College?”
“You went to Syracuse.”
“Siblings?” she asks, a smile spreading across her face.
“None.”
“Hobbies?”
“As far as I can tell, running and soccer.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No. I’m into girls,” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood. She’s firing questions at me faster than I can think of lies to tell her. The truth is spilling from my mouth without a moment of hesitation.
“Me too,” she quickly retorts.
Unsure if she’s serious or not, I don’t reply. Honestly, we haven’t done anything that proves she’s into guys. Why am I disappointed, then?
“I’m kidding, Jay. You really know how to kill a joke, don’t you?”
Standing, she extends her hand to me. Placing my hand in hers, she pulls me to my feet, inches away from her body. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she looks me dead in the eyes and waits for me to say or do something. I know what I want to do. I’m sure she can see what I’m thinking about. I’ve glanced at her lips more than once during our conversation. Each time I did, her tongue would dart out and she would bite her bottom lip.
“I’m not interested in girls. I’m not interested in guys. I’m only interested in you. I’ll take whatever you can give me. I get that there’s a part of you that’s not available. Well, there’s a part of me that’s not either. We’re even. No strings. No expectations. Just a little casual… fun.”
What guy wouldn’t love to hear those words? A smoking hot chick telling him he can have whatever he wants, no strings attached. I wouldn’t–
No way.
I could never do that.
It would still be cheating.
My heart would know.
I promised myself a long time ago that I would never be that guy. Until I was ready to move on, I wouldn’t get involved with anyone, knowing they would end up hurt. No matter what she says, this can’t end well. Strings or not, things can get complicated quickly. Not to mention I leave town in less than twenty-four hours.
This is a bad idea. A horrible idea. We can’t do this.
So why are my lips caressing Skylar’s right now? Why am I pulling her body tighter against mine? Why is she biting my bottom lip instead of her own?
Skylar pushes against my chest. I wasn’t expecting it and fall back onto the couch. Our lips disconnect and I’m about to apologize when she straddles me. I’m at a loss for words, which isn’t a problem since her lips find mine, and we continue what we started.
My shorts are thin. I’m sure she can feel the reaction my body is having to hers. When she grinds against me, I don’t have to question is anymore. Moaning into her mouth, I feel her smile and then she grinds against me again.
Pulling back, Skylar peels her tank top off and throws it across the room. Her chest is bare to me, and all I can do it stare. Her breasts are perky, just less than a handful. The urge to suck on her rosy nipples consumes me, and when I look to her for permission, she smirks at me and lifts her eyebrows, almost daring me.
This time, the moan comes from her mouth. As Skylar begins to rock against me, we fall into a rhythm. It doesn’t take long for either of us to break. Skylar first, and me only seconds behind her, her grunts and moans pulling me closer and closer until I finally let go.
Out of breath, we stay wrapped around each other until the heat between us gets to be too much. Skylar rolls onto the couch and lets out a huff. Standing, she stretches her arms over her head, her eyes watching me the entire time. My eyes are on her body, her tattoo completely on display.
Reaching out, I do what I’ve been wanting to do since the first time it teased my eyes. I trace each petal with the tip of my finger. Following the stem down her side, I
slip my finger into the top of her shorts and pull her back on top of me.
“Round two already?” she asks, surprised.
“I’m just getting started.”
“Let’s move this party to the shower, then. You stink.”
Laughing, I let Skylar pull me into the bathroom and undress me. When she’s finished, I repay the favor by removing her shorts and panties. Crooking her finger at me, she slowly backs into the shower, and I follow.
I’m smiling. I know what’s about to happen, what it means, and I still can’t stop. Maybe it’s because her body is calling to me. On display, beautiful, and about to be wet. It could be the fact that it’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, my body is craving her touch.
If this is so wrong, why does it feel so right?
9
Taking my time, I enjoy every inch of Skylar’s body. Perfection is the only way to describe it. My touch seems to ignite a fire in her that I have to reign in until I’m done. It takes all the strength I have to hold back from taking her the second she rubs her ass against me. Once I’m finished exploring her body, I turn her to face me. Grabbing the back of her thigh, I lift her leg up to my hip and enter her in one swift motion.
I’m unprepared for the myriad of emotions that rush through me. Happiness, our connection bringing both of us pleasure. Surprise, the thought of being inside a woman I barely know, no matter how much I’m attracted to her. Followed by guilt at the thought of cheating on Chelsea.
The guilt is the most present of all my emotions. So much so I release Skylar’s leg and rush out of the shower, grabbing a towel and my clothes as I leave the bathroom.
The water shuts off, and Skylar calls my name, but I’m able to get out the front door before she catches me. I need air. I need time to think. Evaluate.
What am I doing with her?
How did I let things go that far?
This isn’t who I am. I’m faithful to Chelsea. I always have been.
Losing Chelsea (Saving Bliss #2) Page 4