Chapter 16
16
D P felt like an anxious teenager getting ready for his first date as he showered and manscaped for the evening ahead.
The more-adventurous members of the group, including Kash and her nanny Diego—who wasn’t all bad when you got to know him—had gone scuba diving in the morning.
Spectacular coral reef colonies teeming with the most amazing marine life had been worth the expense. The cenotes they’d swam in—considered sacred by a rich, ancient culture, had left him feeling buoyant about the changes he was making in his own life.
Even underwater, thoughts of Chaaru had consumed him. How she’d looked at him that morning, her pretty lips wrapped against his cock, how she’d tasted on his tongue…reality beat out every fantasy. All the images, scents, and sounds forever imprinted into his very cells.
There was no way he could simply shove them into a lockbox when the week was over. He could see her in his enormous bed at his home, in his kitchen, which he’d remodeled with her in mind, how her laughter, her very presence would fill up the empty, quiet corners of his big, lonely house.
If only…
No, no ruining the present by dwelling on the future.
She was his for now and he would be grateful for that.
* * *
Soft music tugged him along to the small, private pool at the back of the resort with gauzy privacy screens guarding the space. Clearly, Mona and Dom had spared no expense. DP hoped the lovely couple had a memorable celebration, especially after a tumultuous couple of years.
Dusk was settling in, and the poolside was aglow with the soft, ethereal light from torches and lanterns around its perimeter. A gentle breeze stirred the liquid silver surface of the water, causing ripples to dance across in a hypnotic rhythm.
A soulful ghazal drifted through the air, weaving a tapestry of melodies that underpinned the ambience with a poetic slant. The mood was one of quiet reverence, of friends coming together to celebrate love under the enchanting canopy of the night. A contrast to the loud, animated dancing of last night, but just as fulfilling.
The other men, like him, wore jazzy Nehru jackets and silk vests. The women, however, were another matter. Bright tank tops, colorful sarongs, with loose, silky robes slipping over smooth shoulders, they looked like butterflies flitting from flower to flower.
On the other side of the pool sat several tables laden with kebab platters, an array of exotic fruits arranged in eye-catching displays, a variety of finger foods, and gleaming crystal bottles of liquor. Discreetly dispersed space heaters gave off bursts of warm air, saving the space from becoming chilly.
It took him a few minutes to spot Chaaru in the relative darkness. Hands raised above her, she was swaying her smoking-hot body in slow, tempting gyrations that made his blood thrum.
“Hey,” he said, reaching her.
The oily sheen to her face, dark circles under her eyes and the messy bun precariously dancing on top of her head made his heart stutter. Was she unwell?
Her broad smile, fanning out whisper-thin lines at the corner of her eyes, put paid to that worry. “Hey you.”
Wiry tendrils of gray at her temples stood out like majestic silver spires, contrasting against her brown skin. Behind thick glasses that he’d only seen her wear once in fifteen years, her brown eyes looked large and innocent. In contrast to all the small things that spoke to her…age, he realized slowly.
“Did I miss a change in the program?” He tugged the collar of his jacket. “I feel overdressed.”
Still smiling, she held up her hands, palms facing out. Rich, dark green swirls of elaborate mehndi danced on her palms, the pungent scent hitting him with a host of happy memories. “Everyone decided on a low-key evening.”
“Perfect,” he said, unbuttoning the Nehru-style jacket he’d worn on top of his linen shirt. Usually, he wasn’t a fan of dressing up but Mona would go military on his ass if he messed up her aesthetics, so he’d packed carefully.
Chaaru hiccupped.
“You’re buzzed,” he said, catching her wrists carefully in his hands.
“Hmm,” she said, leaning into him. Her warm breath stroked over him like a lick of honey. “Lunch was ages ago, and I missed my snack window. The cocktails went straight into my blood.”
“Come, let’s eat.”
Her arms came around his neck, the fingers not touching each other. “Can we dance first? I’ve been waiting for you all evening.”
Been waiting for you for years, he wanted to say. “As you wish, sweetheart.” Wrapping his arms loosely around her waist, he pulled her to him until she leaned her head against his shoulder. He swallowed a groan when her sweet curves settled against his. Every time he held her like this, it felt both thrilling and comforting.
Tendrils of jasmine from the oil on her face teased his nostrils. Something was going on with her, about them, he realized, cupping her hips. He’d deal with it and allay her fears. All he needed was for her to not shut him out.
“How was your day?” she said, as they slowly swayed, their thighs grazing and parting.
“Exciting. Tiring. But perfect,” he said, nuzzling into the arch of her neck. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite nooks in her body. “You want to know the best part?”
“Yes, please.”
“Knowing that I was coming back to you at the end of the day.”
Her gaze turned liquid as she looked up. A tremulous smile made her lips tremble. “I kept looking at my watch all day. Kash and Mona are calling me dick-notized. The other option was cock-locked.”
Laughter burst out of him. Catching her strange expression, he sobered. “You don’t like it?”
“I told them I prefer slut-for-DP. Which, of course, led to Mona pontificating on double penetration. Also, since Kash was involved, we got into a heated discussion about claiming these phrases for ourselves.”
He dragged his mouth to her temple, smiling against her skin. “Sounds like an interesting day.”
“It was,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to his.
Once again, he was awed by how perfectly she fit against him, how easy this intimacy was.
Being with her as a couple was like discovering a spark of joy in every morning, noon, and night. In every moment. Like seeing your life with a new, sparkling lens. Like being present for a communion of the earthly and the divine.
For a while, there was nothing but the soft beat of the music and the satiny slip and slide of their bodies, nothing but the feel and scent of her engulfing him.
Soon, he noted that the other women wore elaborate, colorful, silky robes over pajamas. Every single one had bright lipstick and some glittery bronze powder on their face. Only Chaaru had dressed down. To make a point, of course.
Hands on her shoulders, he shifted her back so that he could see her better. Her brown eyes searched his eagerly.
Laughter kicked up from his belly, filling his chest with this…free-falling feeling that he’d never get used to. Tightening his hands over her hips, he pulled her closer. “Is there a reason you’re testing me?”
She rubbed her tits against his chest, and he groaned loudly. Against her soft belly, his cock thickened in anticipation. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said in a breathy whisper.
“No?” He sent his hands on an exploration of her upper back, loving the taut muscle, hugging her tighter and closer. “No one told me tonight’s program was an above-forty pajama party/reality show.”
She giggled against his throat, and the sound moved through him like some sacred chant, settling deep in his psyche. “Yep. Only instead of cupcakes or donuts, we have cannabis gummies. Also, some of us are natural beauties like Kash over there and some of us turn into sexy ogres. Like in Shrek.”
“Hey, that’s my girl you’re talking about. Mind your tongue.”
She looked up, a wealth of insecurities shining in those eyes. “This is how I look in the mornings and when I go to bed. I get regular lash extensions, color my grays. There’s this obnoxious little chin hair that pops up every few days and it’s gray and curly.”
His chest shook with laughter and burned with affection. “Couldn’t get it to grow by tonight? I’d have loved to play with it.”
A smile teased the corners of her mouth, but didn’t bloom. “Sometimes, I don’t shower for two days straight. Though that’s usually when I’m between jobs.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “When I’m really lazy and can’t be bothered to do a load of laundry, I wear my underwear inside out for another day. My cousins and I used to call it A-side, B-side. Like tape cassettes.”
He laughed at her determination to let him in. And felt like crying at all the little prickly things she was revealing to deter him. God, the woman was scheming as she was sweet, and he wanted all of her.
“Remember those?” she said, breathing the words into his neck. Trembling just a little. “Or were you not born yet?”
He kneaded her hips roughly, letting his fingers dig into the flesh. Swiveling his hips into the cradle of her thighs, as if he could stamp himself onto her flesh. “Of course I remember. And for the record, I’m only three years younger than you.” Pulling back before he made a fool of himself amidst everyone, he stared at her. “Why do I have a feeling this slumber party was your idea?”
Her gaze turned sheepish. “I just thought you should see my reality.”
“You think these oversized glasses and oily hair and what…the dark circles under your eyes will make me want you less? You think I’m that shallow?”
She blinked, the motion exaggerated by her glasses. For all that she showed up in the world as a strong, assertive woman, in that moment, she was all vulnerability with a side of aching fragility. And that she’d bared herself for him…turned him inside out.
“It’s almost a compulsion at this point to not step out of the house without looking perfect. A nice little leftover gift from my stupid past. But I…I want you to know me like this. To see me like this. To…want me like this.”
DP thought his heart might have cracked a little. And yet, for all that, it only felt stronger, beat faster for knowing this woman, for wanting this woman. For loving this woman. “I have seen how you hoard those disgusting hot sauce and red pepper flakes packets, the mess you make when you cook, and how much you hate being told that your math is wrong. And that every year, you steal premium subscription services by guessing mine or Mona’s passwords.”
“You know my dirty secrets,” she said, laughing. A strange urgency thrummed around her as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, none too gently. “Tell me something about yourself. Something that I don’t know. Something you’re a little ashamed of.”
“Char, there’s nothing to be…”
“Please, DP,” she said, thumping her forehead against his chest. “Give me one thing.”
“You want me to tell you a gross, disgusting thing about me when I’m hoping to fuck you every which way later tonight?”
Another giggle. Another crack in his heart. And after this week, if she didn’t want more, if she didn’t want him, he was going to be left with a heart full of cracks and holes.
“Yes. I demand it.”
He sighed. “Fine. Let me think.”
Nothing came to his mind though.
A half-groan, half-growl fell from her mouth. “Ugh. What’s the point? I’ve been in your bedroom, your house, your office. Nothing’s out of place or untidy or the least bit disgusting. Even your damn locker at the gym smells like pine and woods.”
He rifled his fingers through her hair, loving the way she draped herself over him. “That comes from parenting two smelly teenagers when I was barely older.”
“This will never work if you’re truly perfect. Damn it, DP, I was counting on you to-”
Digging his fingers into her scalp, he tilted her face up until she could see into his eyes. “You want the most twisted thing about me? Here it is.”
Moonlight made her eyes glitter, her palms on his lower back his only anchor as he took the plunge.
“There were days when I resented TJ and Maggie so much that I couldn’t bear to look at them,” he said, reaching for his ugliest secret.
Utter dismay filled her expression. “That’s not-”
DP cut her off. Now that he’d started, he wanted to get it out. “I would make their breakfasts and lunches, sign their forms, pack their school bags, line up their shoes and socks and rain jackets and umbrellas by the door, then hide in the bathroom under the guise of a long shower.” His throat burned as if he had swallowed something too hot. “The resentment was like this…” he wiped his mouth and took a step back, “roiling thing inside me. I used to be terrified that it would leak out of my pores like smelly, putrid pus if I got too close to them. Maggie especially. She always read me too well.”
For every step he took away from her, Chaaru ate it up with her own. Her hands squeezed his bunched biceps, clasped his cheek, kneaded his shoulders as if she meant to tether him to herself. “You don’t have to go on, DP. Please...”
He shook his head. “TJ even bought me antacids from the pharmacy because he thought my stomach was damaged.” A dry chuckle left him but even that burned his throat. “After they left for school, I would sit on that front step and cry because I loved them so much. But some days, it felt like a prison I couldn’t escape. No pub crawls with friends, no adventures, no college. I couldn’t…throw money on hobbies or luxuries or vacation. It was a long stretch of unending school days and rainy months and painful years. Even now, when TJ and I argue or Maggie’s upset, I’m terrified that it will come out and that they hate me for it.”
It was something he had never shared with anyone. To this day, he felt equal parts shame and guilt for not only having those feelings but acting on them. It had haunted him so badly, even into his thirties, that he’d finally seen a therapist. Only to realize that he’d never had the chance to acknowledge, much less grieve, losing his parents.
That his brother and sister got along with him, had turned out happy, well-adjusted humans had helped him internalize the realizations he’d achieved in therapy.
“Oh, darling,” Chaaru said, hugging him so tight that it felt like their hearts could talk to each other. “You were hardly an adult yourself, and you did your best. Oh...DP. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I made you revisit that painful stuff. I never meant to cause you-”
“Shh…you didn’t make me do anything,” DP said, letting her body soothe the remembered ache. “Sharing with an objective professional who’s paid to listen to you is one thing. Sharing it with a friend is wholly different.”
“You’re glad you told me,” she said, eyes widening.
“Yes. Because I need you to see me as real too, Char. I can be stubborn and…slow to act and sometimes so full of resentment for things I can’t change. Calling me perfect is doing me a disservice.”
“You’re absolutely right. You’re…just the perfect amount of imperfect.” She thumped at his chest with her fist, thick tears making her glasses foggy. “You know TJ and Maggie adore you, right?”
“I do.” His lungs burned, his entire body shook, as if he’d scaled a fresh new peak. Everything she’d shown him tonight, everything she demanded…it was more than simple attraction and passionate sex. In just one day of being together as a couple, she’d already given him more connection and joy than all his casual flings together. He felt seen, wanted and even loved.
How glorious would it be if they made a deeper commitment to each other? His chest ached at the very idea. Hope was a rope at the end of which he willingly kept himself hanging. “Even when TJ argues with me as if he’s paid to do it,” he added, to cover up the slight tremble in his limbs.
With a soft sigh, Chaaru peppered kisses all over his jaw and neck, leaving behind little pockets of warmth and joy. “Thank you for giving me that intimate part of you. For letting me see the real you. For reminding me how wonderful you are despite everything you’ve overcome.”