9
Christian
She grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head to reveal her loose lace bralette. It was completely see-through. Her eyes never left mine, and I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned back on the doorframe, doing exactly what she demanded of me. Absolutely nothing.
“What do you want from me, firecracker?” I asked as she hobbled toward the door.
“You.” She didn’t hesitate.
Fuck.
No.
I couldn’t do this. She was drunk. I wasn’t about to fuck her when she would regret it tomorrow. Plus, I hated the way she smelled of stale beer. It annoyed me more than anything, so I immediately made her go brush her teeth.
But did she look good right now. She slid out of her jeans and was wearing a matching lace thong. I would worship the ground she stood on just to have a small taste of her body. My cock wanted one thing, yet my brain told me a different story. I wish they would get on the same page already.
“Not today, Maeve,” I practically growled at her as she stalked toward me.
“I’m so horny.” She stared at me blankly, yet something about her honesty was so erotic. I was big into dirty talk, and I found that a lot of women never used their words during sex outside of a few moans and groans. I knew she had some beer in her system, which loosened her up, but it was so damn sexy watching her tell me exactly what she wanted.
“Me too,” I confessed, meeting her with the same honesty. If she was going to be truthful, I would share the same with her.
“So let's do something about it then…together.” She winked at me as she strode toward me slowly, closing the gap between us.
“It really is the perfect arrangement.” I didn’t dare move from where I stood in the doorway. Her hands explored my chest as they tugged slowly at the bottom of my shirt.
“Why is that, firecracker?” I looked down at her, and when her hooded eyes met mine, I was captivated by the deep blues.
“Because we don’t even like each other. You see, we are both grown adults, so we can go about this the adult way.” She giggled, and I could taste the beer on her lips, which was the only turnoff right now.
“We fuck. You leave tomorrow. We go back to tolerating each other in public.” She pressed her nails against my bare skin, and I could feel the electricity between us strengthen.
“While it’s a tempting offer, you’ll have instant regrets tomorrow, firecracker.” I slowly pushed her away as she pouted her lips. “I have to have a conscience. Plus, how will I make sure no one comes in if we are busy fucking?” I leaned down toward her face and pulled a stray piece of hair away.
“I’m trying really fucking hard to be a gentleman here, so please don’t make it harder than it is,” I whispered into her ear, leaning down.
“I really don’t want you to be one right now,” she begged. When have I ever turned down a begging woman?
Never.
The answer was never until today. Today was a day for firsts.
“Go to bed. I’ll be in the living room on the couch.” I took a centering breath and walked out of the room, leaving her standing there in her panties, mouth agape. I guess she also wasn’t used to being told no.
I closed the door, and when I got to the couch, I turned on something mindless on the TV to distract me from what just happened. I have never wanted to turn around and say fuck it more in my life.
It was all my fault. I looked down at the crimson-colored liquid pooling at my feet.
“No,” I screamed, but the words caught in my throat.
I needed to find my weapon. Where was my weapon?
“Stephen,” I called out, looking for my partner. My army-green uniform wasn’t holding the liquid, and the color red was everywhere.
There was so much blood. It was all my fault. I was the leader. I brought them here. I didn’t do enough prep. It was all me.
There was so much death around me, and I couldn’t fucking find Stephen. Why were my ears ringing?
“Stephen,” I screamed. “Help!”
Somebody, please help.
“You’re safe, Christian,” a soothing tone responded cooly as I felt the warmth of skin against my own.
I was sweating, and my vision was hazy, but I carefully blinked my eyes open a few times. I didn’t recognize my surroundings.
“Hey, there you are,” the voice responded, and I suddenly realized I was in Maeve’s guesthouse. I looked at the TV and saw the HGTV reruns that were on earlier. I must have dozed off at some point and was plagued by one of my nightmares.
“Okay, we have to let go of that weapon now.” I looked down to see me clutching my gun and pointing it right in Maeve’s direction. She shifted so the barrel wasn’t right in front of her face.
“Shit.” I holstered it. “I’m so sorry.” I felt guilty. No, guilt wasn’t the right word for pointing a gun in her face. This could have been a significantly worse situation if it had escalated.
Her soft hand pressed against my cheek. “Hey, I can practically hear your thoughts. It wasn’t your fault. It was just a nightmare.”
“It could have been so much worse, Maeve. This is why I don’t do this kind of shit, and if I do, I never bring my weapon with me.”
“You were here because I thought Tyler was coming over. You were protecting me,” she iterated.
“Aren’t you scared of…me?” I asked.
“You are the one person I don’t think I could ever be scared of—kind of the opposite actually,” she confessed, and her words hung in the air while I tried to digest them. “Let me go get you a cool washcloth.” She quickly got up and walked into the bathroom.
“A washcloth? I’m okay. I don’t need anything…”
“Nonsense,” she shouted from the bathroom. “My mom always said a cool washcloth could fix all problems. She would hand it to me when I was sick, when I would get anxious, or when I needed some comfort.” I gave her a pointed look.
“Eh, it’s a thing.” She emerged with the washcloth before pressing it against my forehead.
“What time is it?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Sometime in the very early hours of the morning.” I stared back at her now that my vision had returned. Her hair was matted around her face, and a small imprint of a hand was on her face where she had been lying.
I knew no one had come in. I had been doing checks around the house and finished doing one right before falling asleep.
“Want to know the worst part of being divorced with two kids?” She leaned into me, pressing the washcloth over my head.
“Thank you for this. I feel…better,” I offered as it pained me to talk about my feelings.
“Suit yourself.” She put the washcloth on the table next to us before grabbing a blanket and putting it over her.
“What’s the worst part about being divorced?” I turned to face her, and my back was against the arm of the couch.
“It’s not like I can have someone sleep over and cuddle with me. I hate it. In fact, I haven't been with anyone since my divorce because the thought of doing it quickly and then leaving kinda defeats the purpose of sex for me.” The way she sighed after she confessed this to me made me want to pull her immediately onto my lap. “Anyway, I’m being a dumb girl.”
“No.” I reached out to pat her thigh…over the blanket. “It’s not dumb. I get it. Sometimes sex is so much more than just getting off.” She smiled at me like I understood what she was trying to say.
“I know we talk a lot of shit, Christian, but it’s nice to have you here tonight. I needed the company more than I thought I did.” I looked over at the TV quickly because I didn’t want her to see my exterior melting away in front of her. I was not going to be soft. I needed to be tough. If I got soft, then I would be vulnerable. Vulnerability was bad for an addict like myself.
“Were you watching HGTV reruns?” She laughed when she looked at the TV.
“Got something against home reno shows, firecracker?” I gave her a pointed glance, but her melodic laughter filled the room and droned out the voices on the television.
“No. I love them.”
And that was how we spent the next few hours—sitting next to each other on the couch, actively avoiding touching each other, talking mad shit about what ridiculous choices the hosts picked for the renovations.
It wasn’t until I didn’t hear anything and felt a soft thump against my shoulder that I looked down. Maeve had fallen asleep and leaned over so she was lying on me.
I quickly repositioned her so her head was in my lap, and she curled up to me. I would ignore the fact that she had fit perfectly tucked into the crook of my neck as she laid there.
Yup, totally ignoring it. Totally perfect.