32. Rickie #2
She touches each of my trinkets with gentle hands, while I explain every coin and object.
“That’s just an ordinary espresso spoon from the flea market on Portobello Road in London.
I try to find something small to bring back from a market in every county.
Bonus points if it’s something useful. If I don’t find the right object, I keep a coin instead. ”
“And this?” She taps a little wooden box. “Where's this from?”
“Ah, that’s from Vermont. But it’s a mystery.”
“What do you mean?”
“That got shipped home from the Academy with the rest of my stuff. I had some Christmas presents in there—a book for my dad, and something for my mom. But this thing didn’t have a tag on it. I don’t know who it was supposed to be for. And it’s weird as fuck. Open it.”
She lifts the lid of the little wooden box to reveal the world’s strangest piece of jewelry.
It’s basically an ugly insect-like critter cast in silver, on a silver chain.
“Apparently I mailed a photo of this thing to my mom and asked her to get one of her friends from the League of Craftsmen to make it. But I don’t know why. ”
Daphne makes a strange sound. Like a choked gasp. When she looks up at me, her brown eyes actually fill with tears.
“Whoa now,” I say, wrapping an arm around her. “What did I miss?”
“It’s a water flea.”
“Um…” That means nothing to me. A tear escapes from her eye, and I catch it with my thumb.
“The other name for it is a daphnia.”
“Wait, what?” I lift the strange pendant out of her hands and stare at it. I see a strange creature with awkward appendages near his head. “Are you joking?”
She slowly shakes her head. “We had a discussion about my name. I told you that it was three things—a boring flower, a really depressing myth, and…”
“A water flea,” I finish.
“You remember?”
“ No ,” I choke out, dropping the pendant onto the dresser.
“But I know me . And if I really liked you, it wouldn’t stop me from propositioning you.
But I would also go to the trouble to get a damn water flea cast in silver, and bring it to you on our date.
So where the fuck did I go instead?” My hands are suddenly balled into fists. I’m sick to death of not knowing.
“Hey now,” she says gently. “It’s… I think it’s really neat. This was waiting here all this time. And I found it.”
“Yeah, so neat,” I bite out, still angry. But I throw an arm around her and haul her against my chest anyway. “My little water flea.”
One of her arms wraps around my back, and her hand lands on my abs. “No, it was sweet. It is sweet. I want to keep it.”
“It’s yours.” I drop a kiss to her temple, but I’m so angry with myself that I’m practically bursting out of my skin.
“Nobody ever gave me such a thoughtful gift,” she says, and her voice is almost as soft as her hands that are stroking me now. Calming me.
“Babe, maybe you didn’t notice, but I failed to give it to you. You told me you have shit taste in men, right? And I had the balls to argue.”
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t do that. Don’t take back all the things you’ve said about us. Some bad things happened. But you’re not allowed to pretend like none of the nice ones happened, either.”
I let out one more angry curse, but I’m fighting a losing battle.
Because Daphne is kissing the underside of my jaw.
It doesn’t seem to matter that I’m not in the mood to be soothed, because her mouth is soft and generous.
My next harsh breath loses steam, becoming a shudder as she kisses her way down my throat, and into the V-neck of my T-shirt.
My anger is no match for her loveliness, apparently. Because suddenly I’m kissing her. And then—when her hand finds its way onto my thickening cock—I lose this little contest of wills.
Maybe it makes me a selfish bastard. But her hunger is all it takes to burn away my hesitation. I dive into the next kiss. I’m greedy for it, and I let her know, yanking her close as our kiss deepens. Bullying my tongue into her mouth.
If she wants this wreck of a man, she’s going to get him. And I’m not in the mood to be subtle.
She isn’t either. She tugs my T-shirt up, slipping smooth hands across my back. And I up the ante by grabbing the fabric and hauling it up and off my body. “Is this what you’re after?” I growl.
She doesn’t speak. But her serious eyes assure me that it is. Then she dips her head to taste the tattoo at my collarbone.
Once again I pull her in. Her hair is so soft between my fingers. And her tongue curls across my skin with a lovely stroke. She’s making it hard to stay angry. She’s making me just plain hard.
Especially because Daphne never does this—she doesn’t come for me. I’m the one who has to ask for it.
But not today. She’s kissing my neck. Her hands are in my back pockets.
I back her up toward the bed, since that’s where this is headed. I lift off her blouse and toss it onto my desk chair. She’s wearing a plain black bra, and the sight of it gives me a possessive rush. Daphne doesn’t like to show her cards. But she shows them to me.
Only to me.
“You want to cheer me up?” I growl. “Then get on that bed.”
Eyes wide, she sits down on the end of it and scuttles backward.
“Good girl.”
I’m preparing to join her when I realize I’ve forgotten something important. Spinning around, I grab the pendant off the dresser and bring it with me to the bed. “This is yours,” I say roughly. “I want you to wear it.” Then I unhook the chain and drape it around her neck.
“Thank you,” she whispers as I attach it.
She touches a finger to the pendant, where it’s perched above her breasts. Her eyes get soft and lazy, like she sees right through me. Like she knows the storm will pass.
My anger ebbs a little further. And when I lean down for another kiss, it's the tender one that she deserves.