3. Francisca
CHAPTER 3
Francisca
“A re you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Dad asks, then continues quietly while looking around, “You’d be doing me a favor by giving me an excuse to get out of here.”
“Mom would be upset if you left.”
“She’d get over it.”
“Get over what?” Mom asks, joining us and leaning her weight into Dad’s side. She’s been drinking this evening, and it shows—not just in the cute shade of pink on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, but her smile is so bright that it’s infectious.
“I was just telling Dad that I’m going to head home.”
“Already?” Her smile melts away.
“Yeah, I’m tired and ready to go to bed.”
“You could stay the night here, in your old room.” Her expression brightens at the idea.
“I would, but I need to get home to PJ.”
“I never see you anymore,” she pouts.
“That’s not true. I see you multiple times a week.”
“It’s not the same as having you here all the time, like when you were little.”
Laughing, I wrap my arms around her. “How about I come to spend the night next weekend? I can bring PJ, and we can stay up late, eat junk food, and watch movies.”
“I’d love that.” Her hold on me gets tighter, making it hard to breathe.
“All right, let her go, honey before you cut off her oxygen,” Dad tells her.
“I’m not going to cut off her oxygen,” she snaps, letting me go and glaring at him.
“You could.”
“I was just hugging my baby, not strangling her.”
“With you, it’s kind of the same thing,” Dad mumbles, wrapping his arm around her waist. Ignoring the look she gives him, his eyes come to me. “Call or send a text as soon as you get home.”
“I will,” I promise, and he leans down, kissing my cheek. “Love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.” She steps away from my dad to give me another hug. “Tonight wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks in a whisper, squeezing me tight.
“No, not at all.” The party as a whole wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be, but I’m mentally exhausted after spending time around so many people and ready to be alone to decompress.
Kissing her cheek, I get another hug from my dad, then say goodbye to a few other people before I make my way through the house. When I get to the entryway, I see Dayton near the front door, talking to one of my father’s friends. Not wanting to interrupt them to say goodbye, I step outside, and two young guys—around the same age as the kid who opened the door for me when I arrived earlier in the evening—turn to look at me.
“Would you like us to get your car?” one of them asks, and I shake my head, carefully navigating the steps.
“No, I’m going to get an Uber, but thank you, though,” I say softly, and he nods, going back to chatting with his friend.
Dropping my eyes to my phone, I load up my Uber app. It’s not very late, but between the time and the location of my parents' house, the closest driver is twenty minutes away.
“Great,” I whisper to myself. Still, I press the button, agreeing to the ride.
“Everything okay?”
Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at Dayton as he comes down the stairs. After we sat outside earlier, he didn’t bother putting his jacket back on or rolling down his sleeves. Besides my dad, he was the only man inside who seemed to have no problem getting a little more comfortable.
“Yeah, just my Uber won’t be here for a bit.”
“I’ll give you a ride.” He passes a piece of paper to one of the kids, and they jog off into the dark toward the area at the back of the property my parents use for parking any time they have a party like this.
“I already ordered a ride but thank you.”
“Cancel it.”
Smiling at the quiet demand rather than bristling—which would be my normal response to anyone else—I shake my head. “It’s really okay.” I rub my arms, which are suddenly covered in goosebumps. It’s much cooler than it was earlier, and my dress is doing nothing to fight the chill in the air. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“It’s too cold for you to be standing out here for twenty minutes.”
“I….” I start to tell him I’ll just wait inside but stop when he swings his jacket out and wraps it around my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth and the smell of his cologne.
Adjusting the lapels, his fingers accidentally brush over the tops of my breasts. The innocent touch should not cause the muscles in my lower belly to twitch or my breath to catch, but I can’t stop the reaction.
“Cancel the ride,” he repeats, his deep voice sounding different, gruffer, and more raw. Lifting my gaze to his, the moment our eyes lock, the air around us thickens and swirls with an electricity I have never in my life felt or experienced before.
“Okay,” I whisper, knowing I’d probably give him anything he asked for if he spoke to me like that in his deep, gravelly voice and looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now.
“Okay,” he repeats, seeming to get closer, and I almost think he’s going to kiss me, but the sound of an engine roaring severs our connection, and we both turn to watch a silver sports car come up the road toward the house, going fast.
Recognizing Matthew’s car immediately, I wonder what he’s doing back here, since I haven’t seen him for a while and assumed he went home. As he comes to a stop in front of the steps, I check the passenger seat for his date. She’s not with him, so he probably dropped her off, likely so she didn’t miss her curfew.
I fight the urge to smile at the thought as he opens his door, waving off the kid who runs over to meet him.
“I thought you might need a ride,” he says, meeting my gaze over the roof of his car, and I shake my head. Did he really come all the way back here to drive me home?
“Thanks, Matthew, but I’m okay. Dayton is giving me a ride home,” I tell him softly as a black, older model SUV pulls to a stop behind his car. The kid who took the piece of paper from Dayton hops out of the driver’s seat.
“Francisca,” my ex says, sounding frustrated, like I’m a spoiled child who refuses to listen. “I’d like for us to talk.”
“You can call me tomorrow,” I tell him as Dayton takes my elbow and helps me down the last steps.
Leading me to the passenger door of the SUV, he opens it for me and waits until I’m seated before he slams it shut and walks around the hood to the driver’s side, that is still open. Stopping there with his hand on the handle, he looks Matthew’s way. I can’t hear what is being said, but I know the look on my ex-husband’s face well as his mouth moves. He’s angry, and it’s not far-fetched to guess he’s giving Dayton some kind of warning.
“What did he say?” I ask Dayton when he opens the door wider and slides into his seat.
“Nothing important.” He puts on his seatbelt as Matthew peels away from the house.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure I need to apologize on Matthew’s behalf.” I sigh, putting on my own seatbelt.
“Your ex is a dick, babe. That has nothing to do with you.”
“He wasn’t always a dick.”
Muttering something I can’t make out, he touches the screen up on the dashboard. “What’s your address?”
Rattling it off, I watch his brows drag together in the lights coming off the dash. “Is it too far out of your way?”
“No.” He meets my gaze. “I live at the same address.”
“What?” I frown, sure he’s messing with me.
“One of my brothers owns the building.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He looks over at me again, his gaze roaming my face. “I’ve never seen you there.”
“I only moved in a few months ago. Before that, I was just using the space as my studio to paint. And we probably haven’t run into each other since I use the private entry for my apartment and rarely go through the building.”
“I forgot there’s an apartment on the first floor with its own entrance.” He drives through the gate at the end of my parents' driveway when it opens and turns onto the main road.
“That’s one of the reasons I rented that space. I get deliveries and ship my paintings pretty often, so having street access makes that much easier.”
“You’ll have to show me some of your work.”
“I’m not sure you’d find any of it very impressive.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s flowers and tiny bugs and butterflies. I’m no Da Vinci.”
“I read a news article a few weeks ago about a guy who sold a banana duct-taped to a canvas for over two million dollars and thought that was impressive.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you’re not hard to impress?”
“Basically.”
“Good to know.” I laugh and watch him smile.
As we drive toward Nashville, I try to come up with something to talk about to fill the silence but can’t seem to think of anything to say without mentioning Matthew or the conversation leading back to him in some way. It makes me realize how much of my identity was wrapped up in him and our relationship. Sure, I have painting, my family, and even a few close friends, but most of the experiences I’ve had over the past five years of my life involve my ex, and not wanting to include him leaves me with little to talk about.
When he turns onto our block about twenty minutes later, we find it filled with cars. It happens from time to time when there is a concert or an event at the venue nearby, and people don’t want to pay to park in one of the garages that charge by the hour.
“I’m gonna drop you off out front and go a few blocks over to park,” he tells me after going around the block twice and not finding a spot big enough for his SUV.
“I don’t mind walking back with you.”
“Even in those heels?” He glances over at me.
“I could beat you in a race wearing these.” I lift my foot slightly, showing off my four-inch pump—not that he sees while he’s driving.
“As much as I enjoy a challenge, I’m not going to make you walk when I can drop you off.” He double parks in front of the building and is out of the car before I can argue. Unhooking my belt, I pick up my clutch and reach for the door handle, but he gets there before me, his big body filling the doorway.
“Thank you,” I say quietly when he takes my hand to help me out, the heat from his touch all I can seem to focus on.
He doesn’t respond. He also doesn’t let my hand go. Instead, he uses it to move me out of the way so he can shut the door, and he keeps hold of it while he navigates us between two parked cars, up onto the sidewalk, and to the front door of the building.
Releasing my hand, he punches in the code for the door, holding it open for me to enter.
“Thanks for letting me borrow this.” I turn back to face him and slip off his jacket that is still wrapped around my shoulders. “And thanks for the ride home.”
“Of course.” He takes his jacket, draping it over his arm.
“I would invite you to my place to see some of my work, but you have to move your car.”
“Another time,” he says softly.
“Yeah,” I agree, then murmur, “Goodnight, Dayton.”
After getting his quiet "night" in return, I turn on my heels and head past the alcove where the mailboxes are and the small lounge area.
It takes me a minute to get to my apartment, which is down two long hallways, and when I reach my door, I can hear PJ on the other side, the tags on his collar jingling along with his nails scraping the wood, which I already know is going to cost me my deposit. I don’t understand how he always knows when it’s me, but he does; otherwise, he would be hiding in his kennel.
“Hey, baby.” I pick him up when I get the door open. “Are you ready to go for a walk?”
At the mention of doing one of his favorite things, he begins to wiggle so much that I’m forced to put him down before I drop him. The moment his paws hit the floor, he runs to the door on the opposite side of the apartment, that leads directly outside.
Tugging at his leash that is wrapped over the handle, he gets it free and runs back to me with it in his mouth.
“Give me a second.” I laugh, kicking off my heels.
After sending a text to my dad to let him know I made it home so he doesn’t worry, I grab my cropped hoodie and put it on, zipping it up halfway, then slip on my flipflops, attach PJ’s leash to his collar, put on my fanny pack, and head out the door.
Unlike the street that the front of the building sits on, my private entrance faces a street with a few new shops and a convenience store at the end that is filled with people any time it’s open. Which, it isn’t right now, so the street is empty.
When we are almost to the park near the end of the block, I spot a familiar figure coming our way on the sidewalk, and my heartbeat immediately picks up speed.
“What are you doing out here?” Dayton asks, closing the distance between us.
“I had to bring PJ out.” I glance down at the end of the leash and realize that my pup has hidden behind me, out of sight. Rolling my eyes, I turn around and pick him up. He’s always scared of new people. Actually, he’s scared of everything, and rather than bark like most dogs do, he hides in terror.
“You should use the dog area at the back of the building when it’s this late.”
“We like the park. Plus, I have mace and PJ with me.”
His gaze drops to the guard dog in question, who has burrowed into my chest like he’s trying to crawl inside of me. “Your dog looks like he’s scared of his own shadow.”
“He just gets nervous around new people. I’m sure he’d have my back if something happened.”
“Right.” He gives me a look that makes it obvious he doesn’t believe me. “I’ll walk with you two.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
Ignoring me, he turns in the direction I was going and places his hand against my lower back, urging me forward.
“Are you going to carry him or let him walk?”
“I’m not sure he will walk now that you’re with us.” I stop and put PJ on his paws, and he immediately moves to the opposite side of me, stretching out his leash as far as it will go to put space between him and Dayton.
“How long have you had him?” he asks, squatting down while holding his hand out toward PJ, who eyes him warily.
“A little over two years.”
PJ ducks his head to sniff his hand but quickly backs up when Dayton attempts to pet him.
“Is he like this with everyone?” He tips his head back to look up toward me, the light from the streetlamp casting a golden glow across his features.
“Mostly just men.” I pull the small bag of treats I keep in my fanny pack out, and PJ goes on alert, knowing what it is. “Here.” I pass Dayton one. “Try this.”
Taking it from me, he holds it out to PJ, and he hesitates but eventually moves forward, taking the treat from him before backing up again. After he swallows it, he looks up at me, and I hand Dayton two more. This time, PJ takes one but stays where he is, because he knows he has another treat coming, which gives Dayton the opportunity to rub the top of his head.
“All right, dude. I’ll leave you alone.” He passes PJ the last treat, then unfolds from his squat, and we continue walking.
“Where did you end up parking?” I ask as we reach the park, which isn’t exactly a park. It’s more of a green space with a couple of benches and a walking path that goes in one big circle.
“In the garage, a block over.”
“Really?” I frown up at him, and since I’m no longer in my heels, I have to tip my head way back on my shoulders to meet his gaze.
“I didn’t feel like driving around for an hour looking for something.”
“I guess that makes sense. It still sucks that you have to pay for parking.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’ve done it before,” he replies.
“You need a smaller car,” I tell him.
He chuckles, then asks, “What kind of car do you drive?”
“A MINI convertible.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Probably because I’m not a soccer mom lugging around five kids and all their stuff,” I respond, and he grins. My belly does an odd dip at the sight of it. I tug my eyes off his and continue walking, asking, “Why do you need an SUV anyway?”
“Because I’d look fucking stupid getting into a MINI Cooper.”
“True.” I laugh because he absolutely would look stupid trying to fit his big frame into my tiny car. “There are other options.”
“I don’t need a new car,” he assures, as we stop so I can clean up after PJ.
Taking the bag over to the trash, I dump it inside, then use my hand sanitizer.
“What?” I ask when I find Dayton studying my fanny pack.
“What else do you have in there?”
“Just the necessities.” I hold open the zipper and shuffle through the contents as we walk. “My keys, mace, treats, hand sanitizer, a couple of dollars, my phone, lip gloss. Oh! And a candy bar.” I pull it out with a smile. “I forgot I bought this the other day.” I listen to him laugh softly as we head out of the park and start down the block back toward our building.
When the door to my apartment comes into view, I start to feel sick from the butterflies that are beginning to fill my stomach at a rapid pace. It’s been a long time since I’ve been curious about a man and even longer since I’ve been attracted to one, so I’m a ball of nerves as I unlock my apartment door and unhook PJ from his leash so he can go inside.
“Do you want to come in?” I tip my head back to look up at him, and his gaze roams over my face.
“I’m not sure that’d be smart, Franny.” He reaches his hand up between us, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “I think you know that I’m attracted to you.” His expression gentles and fills with what looks a lot like disappointment. “But I can’t offer you anything more than a couple of orgasms, and you deserve more than that.”
His unashamed honesty must spark my own.
“I’m not looking for a relationship.” The truth tumbles out of my mouth before I have a chance to overthink it or be embarrassed. “I don’t even know who I am. I was married for five years and with that same man for years before that. During that time, I gave up a lot of myself. Right now, I’m just trying to figure out how I want my life to look and… what makes me happy ,” I whisper the last part when I realize that I’m making a fool of myself.
No, I’m not throwing myself at him, but I know it must sound like I’m trying to convince him that I’d be okay with the couple of orgasms he mentioned.
“Sorry.” I drop my eyes from his. “Thanks for walking with me and PJ. Hopefully, I’ll see you around sometime.” I start to turn to go inside, but his hand shoots out, grabbing mine stopping me.
“Wait.”
“Yeah?” My heart starts to pound as his eyes drop to my mouth.
“Fuck it.” He wraps his hand around my jaw and covers my mouth with his. The kiss is so unexpected I fall against him, my fists landing on his chest as my belly flips.
His lips are warm and firm, and his body is hard as he grasps my hip and pulls me closer. Sliding my hands outward, I dig my fingers into his bicep and hold on as he slants his head, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue across mine. The world outside of his mouth and his hands disappear, and I let go of whoever I thought I was before this moment and become someone I don’t recognize.
She’s free, adventurous, and not worried about anything or anyone but herself.
When his hand moves under the edge of my sweatshirt and his fingers stroke the side of my breast, I moan against his tongue and feel his chest vibrate with a growl that shoots right between my legs. In all my years, I’ve never experienced anything like it, and I press closer, wanting more—more of his taste, more of his touch, more of anything he’s willing to give me.
Walking me backward into my apartment, he presses me up against the wall next to the door he kicks closed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a little voice telling me to slow down, that this is happening too fast, but I ignore it.
Instead, I tug his shirt from his pants, slide my hands up the smooth, hard skin of his back, then move them to his abs and down to the buckle of his belt. As I fumble to get it undone, he unzips my hoodie and pushes it off my shoulders.
“You should tell me to leave.” He wraps his hand around my throat as his eyes wander over my exposed skin.
I swallow against his palm. I’ve never had a man look at me the way he is. It’s dark and so hungry it sends a thrill up my spine. “What if that’s not what I want?”
“What do you want?” His gaze locks on mine.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my chest heaving with each desperate breath I attempt to take.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” There is an edge to the question that makes it feel dirty, maybe even wrong. But before I can understand why, I’m distracted by his mouth, taking mine in a searing kiss while he uses his free hand to yank my dress up around my waist. When he lifts me off my feet I lean back into the wall. Cool air brushes against my upper thighs, then the heat of his hand chases it away. There is no gentleness in his touch as his fingers dive between my legs, sliding the material covering me aside.
“Jesus, Franny,” he hisses against my mouth, his fingers sinking inside me. “You’re soaking wet.”
I whimper in response.
Never in my life have I had an orgasm that I didn’t have to work hard for, but the moment his thumb circles my clit with his fingers still inside me, heat pools in my lower belly, and my legs start to shake. I fight it, fight the urge to come, because I want more. I want him inside me.
Sliding my hand down the front of his pants, I wrap my fist around him and pull him free.
“Fuck,” he grunts, moving his mouth to my ear, dragging my earlobe between his teeth.
Then, before I have a moment to prepare, he’s sliding inside me. He’s so thick and long it hurts as he fills me.
But it’s the most beautiful pain I have ever felt in my life.
Back arching, I cry out as he fucks me with abandon, pulling me down onto him hard, each thrust going deeper than the last. It’s messy and raw, and everything I didn’t know I was missing.
Dragging down the front of my dress with his free hand, he roughly grabs my breast, tugging my nipple between his fingers. The sensation is all it takes to send me over the edge. Overwhelmed, I drop my head forward and latch onto his shoulder with my teeth, listening to him groan before he plants himself deep inside me, where I feel his cock pulse as he comes.
Still shuddering with the aftermath of my orgasm, I let go of him with my teeth and tuck my face into his neck, feeling his body go rigid against mine. Outside the heat of the moment, he must feel the pain of my bite.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, closing my eyes, heat climbing up my chest to my cheeks. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I?—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupts while lifting me off him, and I acutely feel the loss of him as he slides me down his body. Once my feet are on the floor, he keeps hold of me, adjusts my dress, then lets me go.
Biting my lip, I wrap my arms around my middle as I watch him tuck himself back into his pants and fix his shirt without looking at me.
He might be standing right in front of me, but I get the feeling he’s already gone.
“Did I hurt you?”
At my whispered question, his body jerks like he’s suddenly reminded of my presence, and his gaze comes to me.
“No, Franny,” he says softly, his eyes roaming my face for a long moment before he reaches out brushing his fingers softly along my cheek. “I’m gonna go.”
“Okay.” I swallow over the lump in my throat when his hand drops away and watch him open the door.
“Lock up.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. One second, he’s there, and then the next, he’s gone.
Going to the door, I flip the lock in place and rest my forehead against the cool metal. Even having zero experience with this kind of situation, I know that was all wrong.
Maybe not the beginning.
The kissing and touching were good—better than good… in fact, better than anything I have ever experienced. But the end...
Shaking my head, I push away from the door and walk to the bathroom. The moment I flip on the light, I’m greeted with my reflection in the mirror. Messy hair, swollen lips, flushed cheeks. I look well-fucked and on the verge of crying, which is absolutely ridiculous.
Going to the shower, I turn it on, then strip out of my clothes before I step under the spray of water. The evidence of what we did is easily washed away, but the memory playing over and over in my head isn’t.
Easing my way down the shower wall to my bottom, I take a seat on the tiled floor and wrap my arms around my legs, dropping my forehead to the tops of my knees.
I should be happy that he left the way he did, that he didn’t stay or attempt to make it complicated. Still, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I messed up by letting him leave, and I for sure messed up by sleeping with him to begin with.