12. Eloise
12
ELOISE
I t isn’t a coincidence that Blair’s suddenly working for the Kings after I arrive in town. Do I believe Cal when he says nothing happened between them? I do, but I’ve never trusted her. My silence wasn’t insecurity. I don’t want a man who can easily be taken, but letting him believe I was uncomfortable was better than revealing my theories because they give away too much. Cal already lost his mom, even if he and his father have a strained relationship. Having one parent is better than having none, and I don’t want to be the reason he loses it.
However, I’d be willing to bet every dollar in my hard-earned bank account that Lucas got wind of us getting back together through Cal, and that’s why Blair’s here now. That man was never subtle about letting Cal know how highly he thought of Blair. I’m certain he called in a favor and made it happen, but what I spent hours trying to put together is what she stands to gain. Why is Blair doing Lucas’s bidding? Did he threaten her too, or is her end goal still Cal?
I was right to be anxious about coming here. It’s been six years, and in that time, I haven’t come close to making heads or tails out of Lucas’s words from our fateful encounter the night I discovered I was pregnant. What I do know is that when I stay away from Cal, Lucas keeps his distance. Staying away means I was keeping up my end of a deal I never made. He told me to stay away and I did, but now I’m here; that’s how I know everything happening now is his counterplay.
I squeeze my hair in the towel, ringing out as much moisture as possible before flipping on the blow-dryer and staring blankly in the mirror as I recall the first time Lucas made a show of honoring his threats. A few months after Adler was born, Cal came home for a holiday break and discovered I had a baby. I ran into him in a parking lot. I looked a mess, but he didn’t notice. He couldn’t. His eyes were glued to the blond-haired baby boy strapped to my chest. Adler was and is a spitting image of his father, save for the blue eyes. Those are mine. There was no hiding it, and truth be told, I didn’t want to. I had time to think about my choices after Adler was born.
My decision to keep my pregnancy and his birth a secret from Cal nearly broke me. Cal showing up as I put groceries in my trunk wasn’t my choice, but I was glad it happened. It took a weight off my chest. I always knew he’d eventually find out. I hadn’t planned on keeping his son from him forever, only until I had time to figure shit out. The last thing I wanted was my new baby to be brought into whatever feud or mess started long before he arrived.
For a few days, it felt like things might not be so bad. I let myself believe there was a chance Cal and I could be the family I’d hoped we’d be. I knew Lucas was well aware I kept my baby. Cal may have left town for college, but Lucas didn’t. Our town was small, and the rumor mill was large. People knew I was pregnant, but Lucas left me alone until he didn’t. One afternoon, as I was leaving to take Adler on a walk, a black Mercedes that I’d know anywhere drove by. It was Lucas. The man had no reason to drive through my neighborhood. It was on the other side of Nantucket, in a very upscale neighborhood comprised of old-money socialites who wouldn’t have given him a seat at their tables. That day, his presence didn’t scare me. I was young, with a reckless spirit, but his drive-by gave me pause. It was a reminder that he was still watching, still holding his threat and keeping secrets.
After his visit, I pushed Cal away. I had no choice. I needed to protect our baby and my family, but even more than that, I didn’t want to be the reason Cal gave up his dreams or the knife that severed the bond between a father and son, no matter how tattered and worn that bond may have been. But today, Lucas showed part of his hand. Blair Wyndham is doing his dirty work, and I don’t know what she stands to gain from playing his game, but I intend to win.
I toss my towel in the hamper and slip on my nightgown. It’s late, but I was waiting to see if Dash might come home. After he dropped me off at the stadium this afternoon, he said he’d see me back at the house. However, when I returned from dropping Cal off at the airport, there was a note in my condo that read:
“I’m going on an adventure. Don’t wait up.”
Setting my phone down on the nightstand, I pull back the covers and toss the decorative pillows to the end of the bed before crawling in. I’m just settling into the ridiculously soft sheets when my phone pings with a text. A smile pulls at my lips when I see Cal’s number. I was hoping I’d hear from him before I went to sleep. I know the phone works both ways, but I see him when he gets home from practice and games. He’s zonked, and I’m trying hard to keep my walls in place, though every day spent in this condo, I feel them falling.
Callum: Are you awake?
Eloise: I am.
He’s probably tired after his game and doesn’t want to get stuck on a call.
Callum: That’s right, I forgot you walked into practice during warm-ups.
Eloise: What’s that supposed to mean?
Callum: You know exactly what it means, blondie. I saw the way your cheeks flushed when I caught you watching me.
Callum: It’s okay. I put myself to sleep thinking about how good I’d look on top of you, too.
I shake my head at his antics, and before I can type back with a snappy reply of my own, he calls.
“Hey,” I answer, a little too breathy, out of sorts from his texts, and caught off guard by his call. It’s late. I’m supposed to sound tired.
“Hey,” he replies, his tone lacking its normal lightheartedness.
“I’m guessing you guys didn’t win.”
“No…” He sighs. “You don’t watch my games? I understand why you don’t come, but seriously, you can’t even turn on the TV?” He’s a little miffed, and rightfully so. However, I don’t refuse to watch his games.
“I watch your games, Cal. Not all of them.” I twist a lock of my hair between my fingers and examine my dead ends. “They’re not always easy to watch, but that wasn’t my reason today. I got stuck in my head and, therefore, my painting.”
He’s quiet, and I feel bad that I overlooked the game. It’s only been a few hours, but I miss him. Staying in his place when he’s gone has helped, but sleeping in his bed has only amplified everything I feel for him. Part of me wonders if he knew it would, but before I can give his reasons any more thought, he says, “I haven’t had a great season.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Everyone goes through ups and downs. Your stats are down from last year, but they’re not your worst. You just haven’t found your groove yet.”
“You know my stats?” His tone is a decibel more upbeat than it was seconds ago.
“Yes, I told you I watch your games.” Just because I walked away from him doesn’t mean I wanted to. It doesn’t mean I stopped caring.
“Are you in my bed?”
“What do you think?” I answer cheekily.
He didn’t specifically ask me to sleep in his bed this time. I’m already sleeping in the spare bedroom since Dash is staying at my place, but I liked sleeping in his bed last week when he was out of town, and truth be told, after our kiss today, it’s where I wanted to be.
“FaceTime,” he says, pushing through the request before I can comment. I would have said yes anyway. The second I see his tired, amber eyes, I can’t help but smile. It’s obvious he’s worn out. The hockey season is already long enough. Add in the taxing travel schedule, and it’s more than draining, so the fact that he’s keeping his eyes open for me means a lot. “You’re so pretty, blondie. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” My voice is weak and sounds unsure even though it’s not. Sharing these sentiments is new. He smiles big, and stepping outside my comfort zone has never felt better.
“Will you fall asleep with me?” He props his phone against a pillow while he stacks some behind his back, and I can’t look away. This new angle puts his bare, expertly defined stomach and chest on display, but it’s not until he twists left that something catches my eye. Low on his hip, right above his sexy abdominal V-line, are tiny white marks; they’re faint, almost like scars, but if I’m not mistaken, they look like half-moons. I can’t be sure because I don’t get a chance to thoroughly examine them before his eyes are on mine. “What’s that look for?”
“What are those marks on your side?”
“You don’t want to know,” he dismisses my question with a tone that suggests he’s right. “Are you going to make yourself comfortable?”
“If you answer my question.”
“Get comfortable in my bed, and I’ll consider it. I want you to take that pillow to your right, slip it between your legs, and roll onto your side the way I know you like to sleep.”
I look away with an exaggerated eye roll but do as he asks. “The only reason you know I like to sleep like that is because you insist on breaking into my room while I sleep.”
“It’s hardly breaking in when I have the code.”
“I didn’t give you the code,” I remind him as I get cozy. Once I’m situated on my side, I prop my phone up on the pillow beside me and tuck my left hand under my face; it’s not until I look at the phone that I notice his eyes have darkened with an all-too-familiar look. “Are you seriously already salivating about sleeping on this pillow I have stuffed between my legs when you get home?” I tease, trying to stay one step ahead of his shenanigans.
His tongue slowly dips out and swipes over his sinful mouth before his eyes drop, and I realize what’s happened. When I shifted, my boob popped out of my silk night dress.
I reach to slip it back inside, but he says, “Don’t.” His voice is a plea as much as it’s a demand. “I’ll tell you what you saw if you leave it.” My fingers toy with my thin strap, and my heart races as I try to process his words and the ten million other things I’m feeling, all fighting for my focus. “I’m not there. I can’t touch you. Looking isn’t breaking any of your rules. Let me see you.” Those words send a delicious thrum straight through my core. “Come on, blondie, your body is saying yes. Listen to it.”
I bite my lip, and in the small corner of my phone, I can see my skin is pebbled, and my nipple is erect. I like that he can see me.
“Okay,” I say with a stuttered breath.
He groans and closes his eyes momentarily before saying, “I want to preface this with, I warned you that you didn’t want to know.”
I hold his gaze and nod. “I’m aware.”
His eyes drop back down to my exposed breast. “Do you remember the day in the art room?”
“Cal… come on, be serious. Just because my breast is out doesn’t mean we need to walk through the times we hooked up.”
He raises his hands in defense. “I’m answering the question. I swear it.” He runs his forefinger over his bottom lip. “Will you let me tell you how I remember it?”
“I thought you were going to tell me about what I saw.”
“What if I told you it’s part of the story?”
My eyes narrow on his as I try to determine if this is another one of his schemes, but I relent. I’m more than curious now. “Fine.”
“It was a Friday, and you had spent the entire week avoiding me.”
“That’s because I found out about your threats to the male population should they be caught talking to me. I wasn’t a possession.”
“To this day, I still want to kick Redman’s ass for opening his big mouth. It was a joke.” I raise an eyebrow. He knows better. “Fine, it was partially a joke. You know you got under my skin at the party we attended the weekend before. You had every guy at the party trying to shoot his shot when you and half the cheer team jumped into the pool in your underwear. Everyone got to see what was mine. I had to mark my territory.”
“Again, not a possession or property to be claimed.”
“You know what I mean, and don’t sit here and act like you didn’t get just as worked up seeing the opposite sex make moves on me.”
“Is there a point to reliving this absurdity?”
“Yeah, the makeup sex when I bent you over Professor Stein’s desk.”
My insides clench at the memory, and I close my eyes. I remember the day. It’s a hard one to forget. I saw him coming down the hall and popped into an empty classroom to avoid him. I thought I had managed to evade him again until he walked in. I’ll never forget the mix of fury and heat I saw in his eyes. It excited me as much as it pissed me off. I hated it when I gave anything away. I was supposed to be mad, but I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He loomed into my every back step until my legs hit the back of Professor Stein’s desk and I gave in. I didn’t want to run. I wanted every ounce of heat his glare promised to deliver.
“Blondie, the way you’re pinching that nipple says you like what you remember.”
My eyes flash open, and when they do, I see my hand has cupped my breast, and my thumb and forefinger are deliciously tweaking my nipple.
I don’t try to hide it. There’s no use, and I like remembering. Plus, he’s right. He’s not here. “Tell me more.”
“Show me more, and I will,” he counters.
I bite the corner of my lip, briefly considering his words before internally chanting, Fuck it. You want this, Lou. Propping myself up on my elbow, I slowly pull out my other breast. I don’t have big boobs. They’re a handful at most, but I’ve never minded them being on the smaller side. It just means I get to forgo a bra most of the time. “Happy?” I mock, for lack of better words.
“I’ll show you just how fucking happy this view makes me,” he says, picking up the phone and trailing it down his stomach until his hard boxer-clad erection is in full view, the gray color leaving nothing to the imagination.
“I thought you slept in the nude?”
“I like that you remember that detail,” he says, putting the phone back where it was, but I don’t miss how one hand stays off-screen. My thighs clench, knowing he’s touching himself while looking at me, and I can’t help but search for a bit of friction from the pillow between my legs. “I sleep in my underwear out of town. We get room checks from time to time, and if there’s an emergency, I’d rather run out in my underwear than naked, but if you want to see it, all you have to do is ask.”
“Stoooppp…” I try to hide my smirk.
“That’s not what you were saying when I had that black and red plaid skirt hiked up around your waist as I shoved my tongue inside that tight pussy with you bent over the desk.”
I pinch my lips together and discreetly snake my hand down my stomach and into my sleep shorts, letting my middle finger glide directly through my slick center.
“That’s the one thing I loved most about private school. Those fucking skirts. My favorite memories revolve around pulling that thong to the side and finding heaven between those thighs. But that day I wasn’t nice. As much as I wanted you to come on my face, I needed more. I needed you to feel me, and I know you needed the same damn thing because you were begging for it. You wanted me to make it hurt as much as I couldn’t get deep enough.”
I slip a finger in, and my insides instantly flutter around it. His voice and the memory of him going hard and deep consume me. I pump myself slowly, remembering how he teased me with his thick head, running it through my folds over and over again. It’s why I begged. He was teaching me a lesson: I didn’t get to shut him out.
His words are gone, and as the memory fades, I realize I again closed my eyes. When I open them, he’s watching me.
I clear my throat. “Why did you stop?”
“I don’t want to stop, but it will cost you.”
My eyes hold his, and I know what he’ll say before the words are spoken. The question is, what’s my move going to be?
“Show me how much you like the memory. I want to see what I already know that hand is doing.”
I don’t hesitate. I know what I want. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”
A wicked smile pulls at his mouth and he repositions the phone so I can see everything. Fuck, he’s big. How is it possible he’s bigger than I remember? He strokes himself from root to tip, and by the way his tip glistens, I can tell he was doing it before I ever asked him to show me. “You’re up. Let me see how wet you are for me.”
I push myself up into a seated position against the fabric headboard and place a pillow at my feet. I keep my knees tightly pinned together, unbelieving that I’m about to have phone sex.
He sees my nerves. “You want to watch me?”
I nod, suddenly nervous for no good reason. Well, that might not be true. This body isn’t what it used to be, and Cal is one of the league’s most eligible bachelors.
“I teased you with this tip,” he says as he runs his thumb around it. “Running it up and down your swollen core, dipping it in just enough to drive you mad so you could get a taste of how I felt all week not having you.” He strokes his cock, the veins on display portraying the anger I feel bubbling up inside of him at the memory. “It pissed me off how easily you could walk away, and I wanted to give you something you couldn’t forget. We both know what happened next.”
His hand stops, and my eyes drift to his, where I finish the sentence and let my legs fall open. “You slammed in hard.”
“Fuck…” he hisses, his mouth going slack when he sees me, and it lights me up inside. “So slick. Touch yourself, blondie. I want to watch those red nails disappear inside of you.”
I slide two fingers in, and at the same time, something inside of me, something that’s been missing for too long, clicks into place. I may not be ready for him to physically be in this bed, but I need this. We need this. Intimacy builds trust; it connects the two people sharing it, strengthening their bond, and God knows we need all the help we can get if we’re going to get through the demons that have kept us apart. “Mmm,” I moan as I let myself get lost in the multitude of sensations sparking everything inside me to life. Knowing he’s watching me lose myself only amplifies my desire. I press the heel of my palm against my clit and rock into it as my fingers slide in and out. “Please… please tell me more,” I whisper, my voice nearly aching as I climb the mountain, searching for the sweet release that awaits me.
“I bottomed out hard, again and again, your thighs digging into the edge of the desk with each thrust biting into your skin hard enough to leave marks, and when the desk finally relented and moved from the force… you whimpered. I paused, and what did you say?” he trails off with a pant.
My eyes lock onto his as I vividly recall the scene. “I said, don’t you dare stop.”
“And then what, Eloise? Don’t tell me you don’t remember. Don’t tell me the last time we were together isn’t scarred into your memory the same way it is mine.”
I pause, chest heaving as his words hit me hard. Of course I remember our last time. I remember every time we were together, but pairing what happened next with the marks he has now is something my brain is struggling to process. My hunger for him never faded; it didn’t matter how much I tried to forget. I couldn’t, and apparently, neither could he.
“I reached back and dug my nails into your flesh.” It wasn’t a new move for me. I liked touching him when we had sex. It made me feel connected on a deeper level, but that time was different. Did I love how rough he was with me? Hell yes. One of my favorite things to do was rile him up so he’d go hard. I felt powerful every time I was the reason he lost control and took exactly what he needed from me. I could bring him to his knees and watch him fall apart. But this time, I was going for more. I wanted to mark him the same way he was me. My nails bit into his skin, and he hissed, holding in deep. I lick my lips and repeat the words I gave him then. “It’s only fair if you mark me as yours, I get to mark you as mine.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “That’s right,” he says. “Eloise, I need you to do something for me.” Using my full name, not the nickname he gave me, garners my attention, and I slow my movements. “Add another finger inside of that pretty pussy for me, baby.”
“It feels good like this,” I say, slowly pushing in and seductively bucking my hips against my palm.
“I know. I can hear how good it feels. But I need you to add that third one. Three means you’re going to let me come home. Maybe not tonight, tomorrow, or even the day after that, but eventually. Three means you’re going to let it be me stretching you, filling you, and claiming you as mine.”
I pause, my eyes searing into his, branding this moment onto his heart for eternity as the weight of his ask hangs between us until I add the third digit. I whimper at the new tight fit, his words wrapping around me, speaking directly to my heart, whispering all the things I hope to gain, and he groans loudly, his breathing labored as he strokes himself harder. The addition of my finger fills us both while lowering our guards and exposing our vulnerabilities. We’re not here for platonic. We’re here for everything. Mind, soul, spirit, a bond without limits, and this feels like the first step toward achieving it. The thought has my legs going rigid as my insides clench hard. “Fuck yeah, blondie. Come all over my sheets,” he pants before his own labored breaths turn to grunts as he falls over the edge with me.
I pump myself slowly through the aftershocks of my orgasm. My forehead is damp, my heart is racing, and I don’t care if I ever open my eyes again tonight. I needed that. We needed that. I don’t know how long I lie there unmoving, in a fog I didn’t care to find my way out of because in it I was lost, we were lost, and the world fell away once more, but as with all good things, their lifespan is short-lived.
Rustling on the other end of the phone has me peeling my eyes open to find that Cal has moved the phone. I do the same and settle into my sleeping position. Returning to my side, I prop the phone up on a pillow like his, and we’re quiet for long moments. His use of no words tells me that while what we just shared may have only been phone sex, it was every bit as monumental for him as it was for me. Most of the time, the moments we don’t plan for take our breath away. They make life worth living for, filling our cups until the next one happens, but that’s not to say we can’t influence the frequency of those fleeting moments. I believe we can by finding our person. Finding the right person to walk through this thing called life with automatically increases your daily odds of finding happiness in the unplanned and mundane. That was me and Cal; when it was just us, my cup was always filled. Everything was always lighter with him because he is my home.
Today, there was a shift, and I know things will be different when he gets home tomorrow. At some point, our long silence stretched into sleep, but before I fell into a deep slumber, I’m sure I heard him whisper, “You’re mine, Eloise Grey, I’m going to marry you, and you’re going to love me. You’ll love me the way I’ve always loved you.”