5. The Present
The Present
Carla
I’min a stranger’s bathroom.
Correction: I just freshened up with half a dozen baby wipes in a stranger’s bathroom because I’m about to have sex with said stranger.
I check the time on my phone. I’ve already been in here for seven minutes. I have to exit this bathroom soon, otherwise he’s going to think I have a stomachache. With my hand on the doorknob, I inhale a deep breath through my nose and blow it out my lips. My heart pounds with every step I take into the living room.
TJ’s apartment is very plain, though it’s a decent size for being above the gym he owns. Bare, white walls, a brown leather couch facing a flat screen, and a rustic coffee table are all that fill the room I’m standing in.
Marie Kondo would be proud, though it makes me wonder what, if anything, sparks joy in TJ.
TJ emerges from the kitchen and hands me a water bottle. “Sorry. I don’t keep alcohol here.”
“Water is fine.” Any more than the three beers I’ve already had and I’d be sloppy. I need to keep my wits about me, even if I’m doing something as witless as this. I twist the cap off and chug half the bottle.
“You seem nervous,” he says.
I do this weird, high-pitched laugh that I’ve never done before. “I’m not nervous.”
TJ steps closer, reaching out to twirl a strand of my hair around his finger. “Why did you come here?” The way he’s looking at me halts the excuse on my tongue, eyes boring into mine as if they already know the truth.
“I guess I just want to forget … about everything.”
“To forget about him.”
“Is it bad if I say yes?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. We all have someone we’re trying to forget.”
It’s the way he says it. It’s in his voice, the forlorn look in his eyes. Like he’s hurting the same as me. My heart aches and I wonder what he might’ve endured.
Wait. Why do I feel bad for him? I don’t even know this guy. For all I know, he could be a jerk. It’s always the ones who seem nice and make you trust them before they rip your heart out.
Come to think of it, he was sitting alone in the bar. There aren’t any pictures of family members hanging on his walls. My stomach drops as I realize I’m in a stranger’s apartment and no one even knows I’m here. I could be in danger.
I take a step back. “Uh … are you a serial killer or something?”
TJ’s eyebrows dip. “What?”
“I just realized I don’t know you. You’re a stranger.” I continue taking small steps away from him. “You could be some crazed murderer or something. You don’t have any pictures on your walls.” I take another step back and bang my ankle on the leg of the coffee table. Crap. This is how it happens. The girl always gets hurt or falls right before the killer closes in on her.
TJ’s grinning. It’s not an evil I’m going to kill you now grin, but more like an I’m laughing at you because you’re acting ridiculous grin. “For the record, if you’re trying to escape, you shouldn’t back yourself into a corner. It’s pretty much the first rule of survival.”
I glance over my shoulder. Yup, I’m in a corner. “Maybe I have a plan you don’t know about. Maybe I know karate.”
“If you can do karate, then I can do ballet.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “I’d like to see you do ballet.”
TJ advances toward me. “Oh, I’ve got moves. They might not be ballet moves, but I’ve got ‘em.”
Pricks of apprehension sting my mind as I’m reminded why I’m here. “Are you going to show me your moves?”
“If you’ll let me near you.” He continues inching closer and my shoulder blades hit the wall. He tilts my chin with his finger until I’m looking into his eyes. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, but I can assure you: You’re going to want me to do all the things I’m going to do to you.”
Every bone in my body turns to Jell-O. The reservations I had going in to this evaporate into the air. His confidence is intoxicating and it courses through me, stripping me of my inhibitions.
“For the record,” I whisper, “I had an escape plan.”
TJ leans in so his lips brush against mine as he speaks. “For the record, I don’t have Eye of the Tiger as my ringtone.”
“For the record, I don’t believe you.”
He laughs, low and raspy, the sound reverberating inside me. He begins unbuttoning my blouse, slowly, without breaking eye contact.
My breaths are short, skin humming with the flick of each button. He opens my blouse and slips the chiffon down my arms. He unzips my skirt next and it falls at my feet.
I’m standing before a stranger in nothing but my plain cotton bra and panties. “I would’ve worn something sexier if I’d known I’d be having sex with a stranger tonight.”
His eyes glide over every bare part of me. “You are an incredibly sexy woman, and it should be a man’s privilege to see you like this.”
Another wave of his confidence crashes over me. “Maybe I’d feel more comfortable if I wasn’t the only one half-naked.”
TJ lifts his T-shirt up and over his head, his baseball cap coming off with it.
And I’m dead.
I died.
TJ took off his shirt to reveal the most spectacularly carved set of abs I’ve ever seen. Elaborate tattoos span his chest and continue down each side of his ribcage, disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. His cubed abs are ink-free, which makes them stand out even more. I reach out to touch him, my fingers moving of their own volition to trace the artwork that continues along his skin.
“Wow,” I say on an exhale.
“The ink or the muscles?”
“Both.”
TJ’s fingers push into my hair and give a gentle tug, sending shivers down my spine. I stretch up onto my toes, desperate to taste his mouth again. His tongue delves between my lips in search for mine. His kiss makes my knees buckle, and in one effortless swoop he lifts me up and carries me to his bedroom.
I land on his bed, the dark blue comforter puffing up around me. He pulls down his shorts. The open doorway casts just enough light into the room to allow me to see the white boxer briefs hugging his hips as he climbs onto the bed. Tattoos continue onto his thighs. My eyes can’t decide where to look—the artwork on his skin, the bulging muscles in his arms as he crawls toward me, or the wicked look in his eyes.
Positioning himself above me, TJ cages me in with his arms. Our slow kisses become feverish with each passing second as he presses himself against me. He slips his hand between my back and the mattress to unhook my bra. I drop the straps and toss it onto the floor like the nuisance it is. Then his mouth is on my skin. He’s taking his time kissing and licking every bare inch of me.
As if this isn’t just a means to an end.
As if he’s enjoying this.
As if there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing.
This is new to me, this slow worshiping of my body.
When his lips kiss their way back to mine, his hand travels down my stomach and over my panties. My back arches as I exhale, body begging him to continue.
He slides his fingers under the thin cotton. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” My voice is filled with need and desperation. This is exactly what I want.
“Then you need to tell me your name, baby girl.”
My eyes pop open to meet his amused gaze. He has me in the palm of his hand. Literally. I fight the smile tugging at my lips and try to replace it with a scowl.
He chuckles and plants a kiss on my cheek, his fingers frozen inside my underwear.
I roll my hips against his hand. “You don’t have to move. I can get there all by myself, you know.”
“As hot as that would be, I can’t allow it.” TJ removes his hand, and I groan at the loss of his touch.
We are at a stalemate. I could lie. I could tell him another woman’s name, but that idea doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t want to hear anyone else’s name but mine on his lips. I need this.
“It’s Carla.”
TJ smiles as if I told him he won the lottery, those dimples twisting my insides. “Carla. I never would’ve guessed that.”
“Told ya.”
TJ’s fingers return to me, and all conversation ends. He pays such close attention to every sound and movement I make, as if his only desire is to learn exactly what I need. Then he yanks my panties down, settles between my legs, and tastes me.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to do that but I can’t seem to find the words, or maybe I don’t want to find them. His attentiveness quells my worries, allowing me to take everything he’s giving me like it’s my right to have it.
Maybe it should be.
Maybe it is.
I reach down to thread my fingers through his hair and grip the back of his head, pushing myself against his tongue, needing more. He bends my legs up until my knees are pressed against my chest, and the feeling of being spread wide open for him nearly sends me rocketing off the bed.
My hand shoots up to cover my mouth on instinct, but TJ quickly uncovers it, holding my wrist down against the mattress. I’m glad, because this feels too good to keep inside. I’ve never moaned this loud before, but I’ve also never had anyone go down on me like this.
With Joe, foreplay was either rushed or skipped altogether. Sex was a one-man mission until he reached his release. Half the time, I never came unless it was caused by my own doing. It wasn’t about me, or us, and I’d accepted that.
This is not the case with TJ. The way he’s working his tongue on me is hot, wet ecstasy. The build of the slow burn between my thighs begins to mount. As if it’s his cue, TJ slips a finger inside me. He curls it over and over again, beckoning for my orgasm to come to him while his tongue keeps the rhythm.
Something ignites within me, and it’s more than just physical relief. There’s a shift in my universe as I let go, surrendering myself mind, body and soul. I can’t pinpoint what it means, but I know I want more.
As I come down from the mind-blowing orgasm and attempt to catch my breath, TJ crawls on top of me with a grin stretched wide across his face.
I fumble with the elastic on his boxers until he pushes them off. I peer down as he frees himself and my eyes go wide.
“What was that you said about a tiny penis?” he asks.
“I’m kind of surprised it’s not covered in tattoos like the rest of you.”
TJ chuckles as he reaches into his nightstand for a condom. Once he rolls it on, any trace of humor vanishes and is replaced with his heated gaze. He slides himself inside me, agonizingly slow, as if he wants to savor every drop of sensation it brings.
I wrap my legs around him and trace the tattoo on his neck with my tongue. When I bite his earlobe, he plunges all the way into me and groans. I dig my heels into his backside—yes, that’s tattooed as well—and move my hips in sync with his.
He captures my lips and dips his tongue into my mouth, mirroring the motion of his thrusts. Everything is deliciously slow and controlled. But we can only endure this for so long.
TJ lifts my leg and hooks it over his shoulder. He pulls almost all the way out of me and pushes in again, diving deeper than before.
“Yes,” I whisper, spurring him to give me more.
That cocky smirk ticks up at one side of his mouth. His length pulls out and I clench around him as he drives into me faster, again and again. My head is spinning, my body aching with need. I’ve never known that it could be like this. That sex could feel like this.
He tosses my other leg over his shoulder. His hands grip my hips so tightly, I’m sure I’ll be left with bruises. There’s something about his long, tattooed fingers holding onto me that fascinates me—fuels me.
I lift my arms and plant my hands on the headboard for leverage as I arch into TJ’s thrusts.
“Fuck, Carla.” His voice is a guttural sound, and the look he gives me is primal. “Come now. I need you to come again for me.”
I surrender everything to him—my pain, my heartache—he takes it all. All that’s left is pure, unleashed, pleasure. He waits for me and we come together. A moment of rapture at the will of a beautiful stranger.
TJ collapses onto the bed and curls me into him. Our staggered breaths fill the silence.
It’s too soon to feel regret—not that I could regret something that felt that good. But now that our moment is over, uncertainty creeps back in. What do I do now? Should I get up and leave? Am I staying the night?
TJ wraps his giant arm around my midsection, as if he can sense my unease. “I’m warning you: I like to cuddle.”
“The tattooed muscle head likes to cuddle?”
“He does. Will you stay?”
I shrug. “I don’t know how these things work.”
“They work however you want them to work. If you want to stay, you stay. If you want to leave, I’ll walk you out.”
Such a gentleman. “I bet you make all the girls swoon.”
“Not all of them.”
Who? I’d love to meet the woman who didn’t fall at this guy’s feet. I turn on my side to face him. “Earlier, you said we all have someone we’re trying to forget. Who is she?”
“Someone I shouldn’t have fallen in love with.”
“Why shouldn’t you have fallen in love with her?”
“Love isn’t meant for me.”
We’re a pair, aren’t we? Two broken hearts searching for relief. I sigh. “Def Leppard had it right.”
“Love bites?”
“Nope. Love is like a bomb.”
“Are you really taking love advice from a song that strippers dance to?”
“Shut up, I’m serious.” Love is a bomb, obliterating everything and everyone in its vicinity. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “My ex is with someone else now, you know. Only took him two weeks after we broke up. Then he showed up at my job and said he wants to get back together.”
“That’s why you quit.”
“I just got in my car, went home to get my suitcase, and drove here.”
“In the secretary outfit.”
“In the secretary outfit that got me laid.”
TJ throws his head back and laughs. “Touché.” He rolls out of bed and strides to the bedroom door. “I’m gonna grab us some more water.”
I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him leave, taking in every inch of his glorious body. His broad shoulders and lats lead down in a V, dipping in at the small of his back. One muscular ass cheek is tattooed while the other is smooth and bare. I contemplate which one’s my favorite.
Can’t believe I just had sex with that.
My fingers trace my swollen lips. It’s like I’ve been marked, every part of my body branded by TJ’s touch.
Yesterday, I never would’ve done something like this.
Everything’s different.
I feel different.
It began before I met TJ … but after tonight, I’m certain that nothing will ever be the same again.