DOUBLE DATE WITH DISASTER
THE LIGHTING WAS hazy, but there was nothing hazy about the way Juliet straddled Eric’s lap as he sat on the floor against the couch. There was nothing hazy about the way he pulled her bra off of her chest and palmed her large breasts eagerly, letting her taut nipples roll between his fingers. There was nothing hazy about the way his hands dropped down to her hips and held them firmly as he thrust himself into her. There was nothing hazy about the way he filled her up and made her feel whole, about the way she ground into him, about the way that he groaned his pleasure or let his head fall back onto the cushions behind him. Dear Lord, how she’d missed this. She’d missed it so damn much.
Juliet woke up from her dream still throbbing with need between her legs. So much it nearly hurt. She knew it wouldn't take long to get off in the state she was in, so she sat up in the bed, quickly slid off her panties, and reached into the drawer next to her bed, settling on the first thing she laid her hand on.
She smiled, licking her lips, as she laid eyes on the large toy with the multiple functions. Spreading her legs and turning it on, she placed it between her legs and let her torso fall back onto the sheets, allowing the visual that Eric Reynolds had created in her imagination as she slept to enter her mind again. God, he was good, even in a dream. It was bad enough she couldn't stop thinking about his body in real life to begin with. Now he did delicious, sinful things to her in her subconscious.
He was so gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. His eyes, his lips, his arms...all the way down to his huge, gorgeous dick. She'd never seen an appendage so beautiful in her life. Reminiscing on how good it had felt the last time he'd fucked her, her body melted further into her bed as her hips rolled into her battery-operated device.
She was immediately pissed off by the shrill ringing of her phone. Her sexual tension had created such a rage in her that she was likely to creatively murder anyone who interrupted her in the moment. Without a thought crossing her mind, or a look at her phone, she swiped it off the bedside table, swept her thumb across the "answer" button, and spat viciously, "What?"
"Juliet?" Her dream man's voice came through suddenly. "Are you okay? Did I call at a bad time?"
"I'll call you back," she spat out, her state of mind not allowing her to think properly.
"What's that sound?"
And, suddenly, reality hit her. Her eyes shooting wide open, she clicked off the vibrator with a quickness and blurted, "Nothing."
And then his voice softened to a near whisper. "Juliet. Are you...masturbating?"
Her heart raced. What was she supposed to say right now? She lay naked in her bed, her legs open, a vibrator in her hand, thinking about the very voice on the other end, and now she was frozen. Finally, she sputtered, "Uh...I'll call you back."
"Don't hang up," he said, his voice now coming from a low, raspy part of his throat. Juliet stared, stunned, up at her ceiling. "You don't have to stop on account of me."
The quiet sigh she heard on his end was all the invitation she needed. Cautiously, she turned her toy back on and put it back into place.
"There you go," he whispered. "That's not so bad, is it?"
Of all the kinky shit she had done throughout her adult life, she had never once had phone sex. Not even close. After all, that would require actually having a phone conversation with a man. She had no idea what to do and being comfortable with what was happening was difficult to do.
Then he let out a soft groan in her ear and that was all it took. She was hooked. Addicted. So she massaged the vibrator against herself and closed her eyes, allowing the pleasure and the sound of his breathing take her over. It was the hottest thing she had ever felt.
The more comfortable she grew with the idea, the better it felt. She bit her lip and she let out a quiet whimper and he sighed into the phone as a result. "Does that feel good, baby?"
The more he spoke, the hotter she grew. She could feel herself coming, but she wasn't ready. She wanted this to last as long as it could.
"Are you thinking about me?" He whispered. "Are you remembering what I felt like, when I shoved my cock inside you? Are you wishing that vibrator was me?"
"Fuck, Eric, I'm gonna come," she whimpered. "But I don't want to, I'm not ready. We have to stop."
"No."
"I don't wanna come yet."
“Give me five minutes."
And then the line went dead.
Eyes wide, jaw dropped, Juliet froze. This was new. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. She was literally in the throes of passion, ready to explode and he...hung up on her. And left her hanging. Was this some kind of cruel joke?
Five minutes went by faster than she'd realized and she was pulling on her robe when she was startled by the loud, barbaric pounding that came from her front door. "Juliet, open the door," Eric’s voice bellowed, the sound coming straight from the depths of his throat.
Was this really happening?
She had barely gotten the last lock unlocked before he shoved himself the rest of the way inside and slammed it behind him. Slinging his shirt over his head, she only glanced down enough to be shocked at his lack of shoes before he was tearing her robe off of her shoulders. She didn't have time to react, or even speak, before he shoved her against the wall and crouched down in front of her. Slinging one of her legs over his shoulder, he stood back up, her knee pressing hard into her breast. Her other leg lay draped over his inner arm as his hand gripped her thigh hard.
His free hand jerked his sweat pants down just enough to release him and he stroked himself a time or two before he thrust hard, deep inside her without warning. In the position her legs were in, he hit the right god damned spot immediately and it caused her to suck in a violent gasp of air, crying out, "Fuck!"
"Yeah," he growled out menacingly through his teeth, sliding himself in and out of her. "Is this it? Is this what you wanted when you were touching yourself?"
"Yes," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, fuck, yes!"
She'd never felt anything like it in her life. She didn't even know she could bend in the position she was in. All she knew was that, in that position, she was taking all there was to take of him, and he was making damn sure she getting every last inch.
Her back slid up and down the wall as he plowed into her, hard and deliberate, and it was the most powerful thing she had ever felt. In that moment, she was his and she had no problem with that. In that moment, she would follow that man around like a lost puppy and do anything and everything he commanded her to do, as long as there was promise that he would keep fucking her like that.
They hadn't been in that position but for a couple of minutes before she felt herself getting closer. The harder he went, the better it felt, and the more desperate she grew. She grabbed for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, her hands drifting to his shoulders, arms, and back, digging her nails in and leaving marks she knew would likely sting once he’d calmed down. But in the moment, it didn't matter. She left marks because it was all she had left--she couldn't get enough of him and he was fucking her so good that the rage that was building up had nowhere else to go.
"Fuck!" She screamed through her teeth, her fists balling up and her forehead collapsing onto his shoulder. His own shoulders took a beating from her and the harder she hit him, the harder her fucked her. "Eric, fuck! Fuck, yes, Eric, yes! Yes!"
Her orgasm was painful on her throat, and on her palms where her fists had caused her fingernails to dig into the skin on her hands. She had tensed her body up so tightly that she was beginning to feel it in her joints and she was honestly concerned about what was going to happen to her once he put her back on her feet again.
His release was a sexy string of slurred, vulgar words and compliments, murmured with his hot breath into her ear. She took a deep breath and she closed her eyes and smiled as he kissed the skin below her ear with sweet, gentle care. He brought his head up, his nose nearly touching hers, and he smiled at her. "Shit," he whispered, breathlessly. "That was so fucking hot."
She bit her lip and she smiled, her eyelids heavy with submission. "You're amazing," she swooned.
One by one, he helped each of her feet meet the floor once again, but he didn’t move away from her. Her back still against the wall, she reached up and snaked her hands around his neck, his sweat sticking to her arms, a sweet reminder of what had just occurred minutes before.
His head dropped and his nose brushed against hers. “I just broke every rule we tried to set. I lost control.”
“If this is leading to an apology, I don’t want to hear it,” she replied softly. “We’re past that now. I wouldn’t trade what just happened for anything. I wanted it, too.”
“I just don’t want you to regret it later. I don’t want you to resent me.”
“You’re such a worry wart,” she smirked. “It was a stupid rule, anyway. We’re adults, right? I spent way too much time trying to blame something instead of taking responsibility. That’s what happened. Period. I wanted this. I’m happy. And so completely satisfied.”
A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm,” she nodded.
Bending down in front of her, he gripped her thighs and lifted her off the floor once more, wrapping her legs around his waist.
She gasped in surprise. “Already?”
He smirked, amused. “I need to shower.”
As he stepped away from the wall, he turned his body and carried her toward the bedroom.
“Excuse me, we need to shower,” she corrected him.
“Exactly how much showering did you plan on getting done?”
“I figured we’d get to it eventually.”
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, pecking a kiss to the tip of her nose.
With that, she was a goner. Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, she lay her head helplessly on his shoulder as he led them the rest of the way to her bathroom.
OKAY. SO MAYBE Travis should have asked Beth before he invited Eric to bring Juliet on their dinner date that Saturday night. He was still learning the ropes to being in a relationship and he was having a hard time with the “discussing” aspect of things.
Discussing. Discuss, discuss, discuss. Disgust. Discuss and disgust sounded very similar to each other and couldn’t be discernible when recited three times fast. There was a reason for this, Travis decided. Because, apparently, in relationships, you discussed everything. It was disgusting. And exhausting. He wants to have a beer, he discusses it. He wants to wear a neon green tie to work, he discusses it. He wants to buy a neon green tie, he discusses it. He wants to invite his brother to dinner, he discusses it. Okay. Granted, that one probably should have been brought up before the fact. But maybe if Beth had led their dinner plans with, “I’m planning to wear a tiny dress with no panties and I want you to call me Bambi at dinner like we just met,” he would have thrown his fucking phone off of the balcony and Eric never would have heard from him again.
In retrospect, discussing was very necessary.
Lesson learned.
But, alas, there was no Bambi and no tiny dress. She’d let him have it after he’d called Eric, and not in the way of getting laid by an imaginary prostitute, either. She’d bitched at him up one end and down the other and come out of the bedroom in red pants and a white button-down. Red, tight pants. He wouldn’t even be able to get a finger under the seam under the dinner table.
He let out an inaudible huff as he slung on his coat and closed the penthouse door behind them.
Now the four of them sat around the dinner table, poring over menus, while Travis tried not to sneer at the gooney grins across from him. Eric had gotten laid today. Nobody needed to say a goddamn word, Travis just knew it. And he was jealous as fuck. He glanced over at Beth just in time to watch her cross one leg over the other and lift her wine glass. Goddamn it. Practically vacuum sealed.
He didn’t even know where the hell they were, to be honest. He didn’t care, either. He scoured the menu as they waited on drinks to arrive. What was good here? These menus were the same every damn where. Chicken, steak, pork, maybe a lamb chop or two. He wanted something he could really sink his teeth into. Like the muscular thigh that filled out those sexy red pants.
He had to admit they were hot. Red hot. No pun intended.
Well, maybe a little.
“Oh, no,” Juliet’s voice came across distressed, distracting Travis from his menu. He looked up to find her examining her lap and her blue satin sleeve. “How did I manage to do that?” She murmured. “Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom.”
“Want me to go with you?” Beth offered.
“It’s okay. I just have to run this under the dryer for a minute, that’s all. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll order you something else to drink,” Eric offered her.
With a smile, she pecked his lips. “Thank you.”
As she walked away, Eric looked like he ruled the world.
Well, he practically did at this table. Juliet was wearing a skirt. Granted her high-necked satin shirt with the bow at the neck and the black pencil skirt looked more like she was going to work than to dinner, but she was still in a skirt and that was doing better than Travis. Then he remembered that Eric wasn’t being punished and he rolled his eyes discreetly.
Tracking the waiter down, Eric ordered Juliet another glass of wine and when asked if the table was ready to order, Eric rolled with it. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied confidently, glanced at Travis and Beth. “You guys ready?”
Beth glanced at Travis and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. The last time they’d witnessed Eric ordering for Juliet at the kickstarter meeting, she’d nearly lost her shit. Were they about to get a repeat performance?
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait on Jules?” Beth asked.
“It’s cool, go ahead. I got it, she’ll be fine.”
Travis eyed Eric warily as he insisted that they go ahead and order, even while Juliet was absent. As he listened to his brother rattle off a plate “without this, substitute that, and leave the dressing on the side” he prepared silently for the war that would erupt once Juliet returned from the restroom.
When the waiter left the table, Travis shook his head and laughed. “You’re so dead, dude.”
“What?” Eric asked innocently.
“Mind your business!” Beth hissed.
“What?” Travis replied defensively. “When she comes back and finds out he ordered for her and she had no say in it, she’s going to tear his head off!”
Eric scoffed and shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Let’s see…” Travis mused. “What should your epitaph read…?”
“Eric?”
“Well, that’s a start,” Travis replied in thought. Then he halted when he realized the source of his brother’s name.
The blonde hair cascaded town tall, slender shoulders, towering over the table next to Eric. Bright blue eyes and bronzed skin made her a knockout to look at—if Travis were any other Joe Schmoe around. But this particular blonde made his stomach turn.
Eric turned his head and blinked in shock. “Sam?”
“Hi. I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been so long.” Then she glanced across at Travis and her eyes cooled over. “Travis.”
“Samantha.” He turned up his beer and peered at her over the bottle.
“Sweetheart,” Beth interjected sweetly through her teeth. “Be polite and introduce me.”
Travis felt her glare in an instant and straightened his spine. “This is Beth, my girlfriend, the most wonderful woman in the world,” he smiled. Then the smile faded. “Beth, this is Samantha. Whose claim to fame is fucking maintenance guys. Eric’s biggest mistake.” After another swig of beer, he asked her, “So. Getting your pipes cleaned on a regular basis now or what?”
Samantha glared at him. “People change, Travis. But, apparently in your case, they don’t.”
“What can I say? I get by on my charm.”
Eric looked more bewildered and uncomfortable than ever and, suddenly, Travis felt it, too. Juliet would be back any second and this could turn into the worst double date in history.
“Eric, how are you?” Samantha asked gently.
His elbows sat on the table and he wrung his hands nervously. “I’m good. Um, really good. How are you?”
“I miss you.”
Travis sat back in his seat in disbelief. The fuck was Eric doing? Fucking get rid of her!
Travis couldn’t stop his own mouth. “Oh, buzz off, Sam, he’s taken. Tied down. Off limits.”
Another glare his way put Samantha’s ass in Juliet’s chair. Next to Travis, Beth’s spine straightened.
“You look good,” Samantha said to Eric. “Really good.”
“Look,” Eric replied, flustered. “I, um, I’m on a date. I, uh, I go on many dates, actually, with, uh, the same person.”
Jesus, Eric, what are you doing? Why are you letting her get to you? Surely, you don’t still care about her!
“I still care about you, Eric. Listen, if it doesn’t work out, I’d love to catch up. See if…you know, if we—“
“It’s gonna work out,” he cut her off.
“Let me give you my number anyway.”
“You don’t have to—“
But she was already ready with a pen and jotting it down on a napkin, sliding it over to him. “It’s just me, Eric,” she whispered. “You know me. I’m available anytime.”
“He knows!” Travis blurted out rudely, without a care. “Every handyman on the upper east side knows!”
With a parting glare, Samantha walked away and Juliet…came right around and reclaimed her chair.
How long had she been there?
Her back was rigid as she carefully lowered herself into the chair and Travis watched as she discreetly palmed the inked-up cocktail napkin and slid it off the edge of the table. Her cheeks were an indiscernible shade of crimson and the tension was strong enough that it made Travis’s back hurt.
“Babe,” Eric started quietly. “That wasn’t—“
She forced a smile across her face and placed her now empty hand over his. “We’re having a nice evening. Let’s not ruin it, shall we?”
Beth shook her head earnestly. “Jules, honestly, Eric didn’t—“
When Juliet’s eyes darted into Beth’s, Travis suddenly saw the hurt that filled them. He had never wanted to hit a woman in his life, but if Samantha were a man, it would have taken an ambulance to haul her body out of there.
“I said that we’re going to continue to have a nice time tonight and if Eric and I have anything personal that needs to be discussed, we will do so later. Alone.” Letting out a breath, she laid her hand down in front of her and then looked at the empty space. “Did we already order?”
“Uh, yeah,” Eric cleared his throat. “Yeah, I, um, went ahead and ordered you the stuffed chicken breast, light seasoning, roasted potatoes, salad—“
“No onion, extra tomato?”
“Yes.”
“Dressing on the side?”
“Of course.”
Juliet smiled. “Thank you, that’s perfect. You know me so well.”
But was it perfect? Or was Juliet simply trying to keep the peace, using her smile as a defense mechanism against her wounded heart?
One thing was for sure—if Travis knew his brother like he knew he did, he was currently shaking in his boots. And for good reason.
ERIC’S TRUCK WAS dead silent as the city lights reflected across the windshield. They had just finished the most uncomfortable dinner Eric had ever sat through and he almost made himself sick with the way he had to choke down his food. The truth was, he’d lost his appetite the second he’d laid eyes on Samantha.
Jesus, why did she have to pop up now? Right now, when things were finally starting to go so well? Couldn’t Eric catch a break? Sitting next to him in his truck was…the one. She was it. He thought, once upon a time, that Samantha had been the one, but he’d been sorely mistaken, and was now glad for it. But now he knew. And he had already fought so hard to keep her and every time he thought he was ahead, another gauntlet was being thrown down.
He’d never been so exhausted in his life.
Juliet had barely said a word at dinner and when she did, it was forced. Her smiles were forced, her laughter was forced, none of it was real. None of it was comfortable. The tension at the table was so thick, he didn’t think a knife could even cut it. So, what was happening now? What was going through her head in this silence? Was this the end of them—again?
He glanced over at her and swallowed hard. He wanted so badly to open his mouth, but he had no idea where to start. All of the cliché lines didn’t feel right. “It wasn’t what it looked like.” “She invited herself to sit.” “I told her I wasn’t interested.” It didn’t matter what he said. Samantha was his past and Juliet had just come face-to-face with it. That was enough to make anyone upset.
After ten minutes of silence, Juliet’s quiet voice finally brought him back to the present. “She’s very pretty.”
One thing that hadn’t changed was that Samantha had always been beautiful. She didn’t hold a candle to Juliet, but she was definitely easy on the eyes. Luckily for Eric, though, the sight of her made his stomach churn.
“She’s, uh, she’s attractive, sure.”
“You can say it,” Juliet replied. “You’re not blind.”
“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “But she’s also one of my least favorite people, so…you know, that brings her down a few notches on the attractiveness scale.”
“The fact that you haven’t forgiven her is not a good sign.”
Eric’s eyes darted over to her as the blue glow of the dashboard lit up her silhouette. “Who said I haven’t forgiven her?”
“Have you?”
He mulled over it for a moment, deciding to be honest instead of dreaming up a reply. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“That’s a problem,” she blurted.
His jaw dropped in an attempt to reply, but he had nothing. What was he supposed to say? Did she think that…did she think that he missed her?
And then he remembered Juliet’s past. “Have you forgiven Steve?”
“Steve’s dead,” she spat.
Well, all right. She had him.
“That was a completely different situation,” she continued. “Steve beat the shit out of me, all Samantha did was fuck another guy.”
“Oh. So, I’m supposed to forgive a person for humiliating me and making a fool of me? Sorry, I didn’t get that memo.”
“Dr. Thorne is teaching me to forgive,” she said, her voice calming. “Eventually, I guess, I’ll get around to Steve, but that’s still different. Samantha is…around. Alive, in the flesh. And beautiful. And is someone you wanted to marry at some point, that’s—that’s kind of a big deal.”
“Jules,” he let out with an exasperated breath. “I couldn’t be more over that entire situation. You’re gonna have to trust me on that.”
“Your mind might be. But where is your heart?”
Eric paused, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was hers. How did she not know?
“Baby,” he breathed. “I don’t—I don’t know what else you want me to do—or—or say. I just don’t know. How else can I prove to you that I belong to you and that I literally haven’t thought about her in—since I met you!”
“I stood there and watched the whole thing, Eric, you could barely compose yourself with her sitting there.”
Oh, Jesus Christ, was she fucking kidding?
“You tell me that if Steve rose from the dead and showed up in front of your face, that you wouldn’t be just a little bit caught off guard. I know, I know, bad analogy, but he’s the only ex you’ve got…right?”
“Yeah,” she muttered.
“All right, then.”
“I want to go home.”
“Seriously? You’re ready to go home because you didn’t win this argument?”
“There was nothing to win!” She blurted defensively.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes!”
“You’re really sure? Because to me, this sounds like you, grasping for excuses to run. And, so help me god, we are not going through that again.”
There was silence for a moment as she sat across from him, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out the window. Finally, she creaked out, “I don’t want to run.”
“Then why do you keep coming at me like you’re trying to push me back into her arms or something? Sitting there, questioning my feelings and, hell, maybe even my fidelity. I mean, shit, Juliet, if you don’t know how I feel about you by now, I don’t know what the fuck else to do!”
“I just saw your ex for the first time, Eric, trying to throw herself all over you, and she’s beautiful! Isn’t that, like, a normal relationship thing, to be jealous of the ex or something? Am I not reacting normally? What the fuck am I supposed to do? Just pretend it never happened? Oh, wait. That’s apparently what I do best, right? I should have already done that. My bad.”
“Jules,” he whispered.
“I think I’m entitled to a little jealousy. I think I’m entitled to be a little uncomfortable with the idea of you coming face-to-face with your ex again, being a woman you were serious enough about to propose to. A woman that you loved and you cherished, shared your body and your life with. I think I’m entitled to that!”
Her words hit him right in his heart and he didn’t know what to feel. He wanted to pull the truck over and hold her. He wanted to come right out with the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks now, but now was absolutely not the right time for that. She would never believe him. And then there was the small part of him that felt happiness because it was then that he knew he belonged to her. Right there, in his truck, she had staked her claim on him. And, above anything, being wanted was, well, all he ever wanted from her.
But still. He just couldn’t let it rest. He just couldn’t leave it alone.
“But are you entitled to persecute me for my past? I’ve never once persecuted you for yours. I’ve never said two words about anything regarding your personal life before me—“
“Jason. Kamealoha. Let me remind you about that little display.”
Fuck. She was right. And he was a hypocrite.
“Now, please take me home. I can walk myself to my door.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Can we talk about this?”
“I’m talked out.”
“Then we’re going to my place.”
She looked over at him, incredulously, as he made the turn onto his block. “Excuse me? I asked you to take me home!”
“No, actually, you demanded I take you home.”
“I said please!”
“All right, fine. You said please. But don’t you think, at least for the sake of the therapy that we both pay for, that we should sit down and talk about this like adults instead of shutting down and pouting like children. It’s getting nothing accomplished.”
“Oh, you want the adult version? Fine, here it is. I hate your ex. She’s a fucking two-bit whore who let a good thing go to waste. And you know that and it’s why you couldn’t keep yourself from telling her to fuck off when she helped herself to your current girlfriend’s chair! What I wanted to do was take her by that pretty blonde hair of hers and bash her head into the table top. But that would have made me just like my ex, and we can’t have me going to jail. So. Here we are. We’ve talked. Now if you’ll just let me out here, I’ll walk home, thank you very much.”
Eric had no intention of stopping. Instead, he turned into his building’s parking garage and replied, “I agree. She is a two-bit whore. That’s why I dumped her. If I still wanted her, I’d be with her, a glutton for punishment. But, instead, I fell for you, the woman I’m currently having to force and beg to come into my home, be with me, and talk to me, so we can work this out and move on. I mean, what’s it going to take for you to want me, Juliet? I’m so fucking confused right now.”
As he pulled the truck into his usual parking space, on the top level of the garage, next to the breezeway that led to his floor, her eyes blinked wide at him against the yellow glow of the garage light. “I do want you.”
Turning off the ignition, he took her hand and held it tightly between both of his. “Then why do I always feel like I have to beg you to stay?”
Her eyes began to glisten and her chin trembled. Oh, fuck, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.
“Is that what you feel like?” She squeaked.
He forced out the breath he was holding. “Sometimes, yes.”
She sniffed as she glanced down at her lap. “I bet you wouldn’t have had to beg her to stay tonight. And I bet she wouldn’t have spilled her chardonnay all over her satin shirt.”
The corner of Eric’s mouth twitched. “First of all, I practically begged her to leave, she just wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. And secondly, she wouldn’t know good taste if it bit her in the ass, so her shirt probably would have been made out of cheap cotton. And then she would have talked about herself all night and I would have excused myself to vomit. And I’m barely exaggerating. The point is, you make me happy. I want you. And—and while I admit, the jealousy is slightly flattering, I don’t want you to worry yourself sick over it. She is so far out of the picture, I didn’t even know she was still in the area anymore—nor did I care. And for the record, I wasn’t going to do anything with that phone number. But I did notice you trying to be slick in getting rid of it. I would have thought it was kind of cute if I wasn’t scared shitless that you were going to leave me.”
“I can’t promise that I’ll never be jealous again. But I will promise that you’ll never have to beg me to stay. Or talk. Or anything. I mean, you know, unless I have to work or have a hair appointment or something.”
“Or like tomorrow with your weekly appointment with Beth,” he smiled.
She sniffed and she smiled. “We’re going to talk about you so hard.”
His smile widened. “I fully expect it. But, for now, it’s still early. Wanna come in and find a movie to watch? Fool around, maybe eat some gelato…?”
“All of the above,” she chose.
“Sweet,” he mumbled in victory.
As he hopped out of the truck and darted around to let Juliet out, she stepped onto the concrete and asked him, “Can you even have gelato?”
“Oh, my god, relax,” he groaned as he shoved the door shut and tossed his arm around her neck. “I’m a grown boy, I can take care of myself.” Then his arm slipped to her waist. “And I can take care of you.”
“Yeah?” She smiled playfully as she bit her bottom lip. “You gotta catch me first.”
Darting out of his reach, she trotted ahead of him, apparently expecting him to chase her. He didn’t pick up his speed. Instead, he watched her reach for the glass door excitedly and he shook his head and called out, “Come on, you gotta have the key to unlock the door!” Catching up to her, he swiped the tiny black square across the red light and waited for the door to click before he opened it. Then he waved her inside and he stood there. “Go ahead, do your thing, I’m right behind you.”
“Well, it’s no fun now,” she pouted.
He smirked at her. “Try me.”
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. And then it was the best of times all over again. And all because of Juliet Carson.
THE LIGHTING WAS hazy, but there was nothing hazy about the way Juliet straddled Eric’s lap as he sat on the floor against the couch. There was nothing hazy about the way he pulled her bra off of her chest and palmed her large breasts eagerly, letting her taut nipples roll between his fingers. There was nothing hazy about the way his hands dropped down to her hips and held them firmly as he thrust himself into her. There was nothing hazy about the way he filled her up and made her feel whole, about the way she ground into him, about the way that he groaned his pleasure or let his head fall back onto the cushions behind him. Dear Lord, how she’d missed this. She’d missed it so damn much.
Juliet woke up from her dream still throbbing with need between her legs. So much it nearly hurt. She knew it wouldn't take long to get off in the state she was in, so she sat up in the bed, quickly slid off her panties, and reached into the drawer next to her bed, settling on the first thing she laid her hand on.
She smiled, licking her lips, as she laid eyes on the large toy with the multiple functions. Spreading her legs and turning it on, she placed it between her legs and let her torso fall back onto the sheets, allowing the visual that Eric Reynolds had created in her imagination as she slept to enter her mind again. God, he was good, even in a dream. It was bad enough she couldn't stop thinking about his body in real life to begin with. Now he did delicious, sinful things to her in her subconscious.
He was so gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. His eyes, his lips, his arms...all the way down to his huge, gorgeous dick. She'd never seen an appendage so beautiful in her life. Reminiscing on how good it had felt the last time he'd fucked her, her body melted further into her bed as her hips rolled into her battery-operated device.
She was immediately pissed off by the shrill ringing of her phone. Her sexual tension had created such a rage in her that she was likely to creatively murder anyone who interrupted her in the moment. Without a thought crossing her mind, or a look at her phone, she swiped it off the bedside table, swept her thumb across the "answer" button, and spat viciously, "What?"
"Juliet?" Her dream man's voice came through suddenly. "Are you okay? Did I call at a bad time?"
"I'll call you back," she spat out, her state of mind not allowing her to think properly.
"What's that sound?"
And, suddenly, reality hit her. Her eyes shooting wide open, she clicked off the vibrator with a quickness and blurted, "Nothing."
And then his voice softened to a near whisper. "Juliet. Are you...masturbating?"
Her heart raced. What was she supposed to say right now? She lay naked in her bed, her legs open, a vibrator in her hand, thinking about the very voice on the other end, and now she was frozen. Finally, she sputtered, "Uh...I'll call you back."
"Don't hang up," he said, his voice now coming from a low, raspy part of his throat. Juliet stared, stunned, up at her ceiling. "You don't have to stop on account of me."
The quiet sigh she heard on his end was all the invitation she needed. Cautiously, she turned her toy back on and put it back into place.
"There you go," he whispered. "That's not so bad, is it?"
Of all the kinky shit she had done throughout her adult life, she had never once had phone sex. Not even close. After all, that would require actually having a phone conversation with a man. She had no idea what to do and being comfortable with what was happening was difficult to do.
Then he let out a soft groan in her ear and that was all it took. She was hooked. Addicted. So she massaged the vibrator against herself and closed her eyes, allowing the pleasure and the sound of his breathing take her over. It was the hottest thing she had ever felt.
The more comfortable she grew with the idea, the better it felt. She bit her lip and she let out a quiet whimper and he sighed into the phone as a result. "Does that feel good, baby?"
The more he spoke, the hotter she grew. She could feel herself coming, but she wasn't ready. She wanted this to last as long as it could.
"Are you thinking about me?" He whispered. "Are you remembering what I felt like, when I shoved my cock inside you? Are you wishing that vibrator was me?"
"Fuck, Eric, I'm gonna come," she whimpered. "But I don't want to, I'm not ready. We have to stop."
"No."
"I don't wanna come yet."
“Give me five minutes."
And then the line went dead.
Eyes wide, jaw dropped, Juliet froze. This was new. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. She was literally in the throes of passion, ready to explode and he...hung up on her. And left her hanging. Was this some kind of cruel joke?
Five minutes went by faster than she'd realized and she was pulling on her robe when she was startled by the loud, barbaric pounding that came from her front door. "Juliet, open the door," Eric’s voice bellowed, the sound coming straight from the depths of his throat.
Was this really happening?
She had barely gotten the last lock unlocked before he shoved himself the rest of the way inside and slammed it behind him. Slinging his shirt over his head, she only glanced down enough to be shocked at his lack of shoes before he was tearing her robe off of her shoulders. She didn't have time to react, or even speak, before he shoved her against the wall and crouched down in front of her. Slinging one of her legs over his shoulder, he stood back up, her knee pressing hard into her breast. Her other leg lay draped over his inner arm as his hand gripped her thigh hard.
His free hand jerked his sweat pants down just enough to release him and he stroked himself a time or two before he thrust hard, deep inside her without warning. In the position her legs were in, he hit the right god damned spot immediately and it caused her to suck in a violent gasp of air, crying out, "Fuck!"
"Yeah," he growled out menacingly through his teeth, sliding himself in and out of her. "Is this it? Is this what you wanted when you were touching yourself?"
"Yes," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, fuck, yes!"
She'd never felt anything like it in her life. She didn't even know she could bend in the position she was in. All she knew was that, in that position, she was taking all there was to take of him, and he was making damn sure she getting every last inch.
Her back slid up and down the wall as he plowed into her, hard and deliberate, and it was the most powerful thing she had ever felt. In that moment, she was his and she had no problem with that. In that moment, she would follow that man around like a lost puppy and do anything and everything he commanded her to do, as long as there was promise that he would keep fucking her like that.
They hadn't been in that position but for a couple of minutes before she felt herself getting closer. The harder he went, the better it felt, and the more desperate she grew. She grabbed for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, her hands drifting to his shoulders, arms, and back, digging her nails in and leaving marks she knew would likely sting once he’d calmed down. But in the moment, it didn't matter. She left marks because it was all she had left--she couldn't get enough of him and he was fucking her so good that the rage that was building up had nowhere else to go.
"Fuck!" She screamed through her teeth, her fists balling up and her forehead collapsing onto his shoulder. His own shoulders took a beating from her and the harder she hit him, the harder her fucked her. "Eric, fuck! Fuck, yes, Eric, yes! Yes!"
Her orgasm was painful on her throat, and on her palms where her fists had caused her fingernails to dig into the skin on her hands. She had tensed her body up so tightly that she was beginning to feel it in her joints and she was honestly concerned about what was going to happen to her once he put her back on her feet again.
His release was a sexy string of slurred, vulgar words and compliments, murmured with his hot breath into her ear. She took a deep breath and she closed her eyes and smiled as he kissed the skin below her ear with sweet, gentle care. He brought his head up, his nose nearly touching hers, and he smiled at her. "Shit," he whispered, breathlessly. "That was so fucking hot."
She bit her lip and she smiled, her eyelids heavy with submission. "You're amazing," she swooned.
One by one, he helped each of her feet meet the floor once again, but he didn’t move away from her. Her back still against the wall, she reached up and snaked her hands around his neck, his sweat sticking to her arms, a sweet reminder of what had just occurred minutes before.
His head dropped and his nose brushed against hers. “I just broke every rule we tried to set. I lost control.”
“If this is leading to an apology, I don’t want to hear it,” she replied softly. “We’re past that now. I wouldn’t trade what just happened for anything. I wanted it, too.”
“I just don’t want you to regret it later. I don’t want you to resent me.”
“You’re such a worry wart,” she smirked. “It was a stupid rule, anyway. We’re adults, right? I spent way too much time trying to blame something instead of taking responsibility. That’s what happened. Period. I wanted this. I’m happy. And so completely satisfied.”
A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm,” she nodded.
Bending down in front of her, he gripped her thighs and lifted her off the floor once more, wrapping her legs around his waist.
She gasped in surprise. “Already?”
He smirked, amused. “I need to shower.”
As he stepped away from the wall, he turned his body and carried her toward the bedroom.
“Excuse me, we need to shower,” she corrected him.
“Exactly how much showering did you plan on getting done?”
“I figured we’d get to it eventually.”
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, pecking a kiss to the tip of her nose.
With that, she was a goner. Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, she lay her head helplessly on his shoulder as he led them the rest of the way to her bathroom.
OKAY. SO MAYBE Travis should have asked Beth before he invited Eric to bring Juliet on their dinner date that Saturday night. He was still learning the ropes to being in a relationship and he was having a hard time with the “discussing” aspect of things.
Discussing. Discuss, discuss, discuss. Disgust. Discuss and disgust sounded very similar to each other and couldn’t be discernible when recited three times fast. There was a reason for this, Travis decided. Because, apparently, in relationships, you discussed everything. It was disgusting. And exhausting. He wants to have a beer, he discusses it. He wants to wear a neon green tie to work, he discusses it. He wants to buy a neon green tie, he discusses it. He wants to invite his brother to dinner, he discusses it. Okay. Granted, that one probably should have been brought up before the fact. But maybe if Beth had led their dinner plans with, “I’m planning to wear a tiny dress with no panties and I want you to call me Bambi at dinner like we just met,” he would have thrown his fucking phone off of the balcony and Eric never would have heard from him again.
In retrospect, discussing was very necessary.
Lesson learned.
But, alas, there was no Bambi and no tiny dress. She’d let him have it after he’d called Eric, and not in the way of getting laid by an imaginary prostitute, either. She’d bitched at him up one end and down the other and come out of the bedroom in red pants and a white button-down. Red, tight pants. He wouldn’t even be able to get a finger under the seam under the dinner table.
He let out an inaudible huff as he slung on his coat and closed the penthouse door behind them.
Now the four of them sat around the dinner table, poring over menus, while Travis tried not to sneer at the gooney grins across from him. Eric had gotten laid today. Nobody needed to say a goddamn word, Travis just knew it. And he was jealous as fuck. He glanced over at Beth just in time to watch her cross one leg over the other and lift her wine glass. Goddamn it. Practically vacuum sealed.
He didn’t even know where the hell they were, to be honest. He didn’t care, either. He scoured the menu as they waited on drinks to arrive. What was good here? These menus were the same every damn where. Chicken, steak, pork, maybe a lamb chop or two. He wanted something he could really sink his teeth into. Like the muscular thigh that filled out those sexy red pants.
He had to admit they were hot. Red hot. No pun intended.
Well, maybe a little.
“Oh, no,” Juliet’s voice came across distressed, distracting Travis from his menu. He looked up to find her examining her lap and her blue satin sleeve. “How did I manage to do that?” She murmured. “Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom.”
“Want me to go with you?” Beth offered.
“It’s okay. I just have to run this under the dryer for a minute, that’s all. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll order you something else to drink,” Eric offered her.
With a smile, she pecked his lips. “Thank you.”
As she walked away, Eric looked like he ruled the world.
Well, he practically did at this table. Juliet was wearing a skirt. Granted her high-necked satin shirt with the bow at the neck and the black pencil skirt looked more like she was going to work than to dinner, but she was still in a skirt and that was doing better than Travis. Then he remembered that Eric wasn’t being punished and he rolled his eyes discreetly.
Tracking the waiter down, Eric ordered Juliet another glass of wine and when asked if the table was ready to order, Eric rolled with it. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied confidently, glanced at Travis and Beth. “You guys ready?”
Beth glanced at Travis and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. The last time they’d witnessed Eric ordering for Juliet at the kickstarter meeting, she’d nearly lost her shit. Were they about to get a repeat performance?
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait on Jules?” Beth asked.
“It’s cool, go ahead. I got it, she’ll be fine.”
Travis eyed Eric warily as he insisted that they go ahead and order, even while Juliet was absent. As he listened to his brother rattle off a plate “without this, substitute that, and leave the dressing on the side” he prepared silently for the war that would erupt once Juliet returned from the restroom.
When the waiter left the table, Travis shook his head and laughed. “You’re so dead, dude.”
“What?” Eric asked innocently.
“Mind your business!” Beth hissed.
“What?” Travis replied defensively. “When she comes back and finds out he ordered for her and she had no say in it, she’s going to tear his head off!”
Eric scoffed and shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Let’s see…” Travis mused. “What should your epitaph read…?”
“Eric?”
“Well, that’s a start,” Travis replied in thought. Then he halted when he realized the source of his brother’s name.
The blonde hair cascaded town tall, slender shoulders, towering over the table next to Eric. Bright blue eyes and bronzed skin made her a knockout to look at—if Travis were any other Joe Schmoe around. But this particular blonde made his stomach turn.
Eric turned his head and blinked in shock. “Sam?”
“Hi. I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been so long.” Then she glanced across at Travis and her eyes cooled over. “Travis.”
“Samantha.” He turned up his beer and peered at her over the bottle.
“Sweetheart,” Beth interjected sweetly through her teeth. “Be polite and introduce me.”
Travis felt her glare in an instant and straightened his spine. “This is Beth, my girlfriend, the most wonderful woman in the world,” he smiled. Then the smile faded. “Beth, this is Samantha. Whose claim to fame is fucking maintenance guys. Eric’s biggest mistake.” After another swig of beer, he asked her, “So. Getting your pipes cleaned on a regular basis now or what?”
Samantha glared at him. “People change, Travis. But, apparently in your case, they don’t.”
“What can I say? I get by on my charm.”
Eric looked more bewildered and uncomfortable than ever and, suddenly, Travis felt it, too. Juliet would be back any second and this could turn into the worst double date in history.
“Eric, how are you?” Samantha asked gently.
His elbows sat on the table and he wrung his hands nervously. “I’m good. Um, really good. How are you?”
“I miss you.”
Travis sat back in his seat in disbelief. The fuck was Eric doing? Fucking get rid of her!
Travis couldn’t stop his own mouth. “Oh, buzz off, Sam, he’s taken. Tied down. Off limits.”
Another glare his way put Samantha’s ass in Juliet’s chair. Next to Travis, Beth’s spine straightened.
“You look good,” Samantha said to Eric. “Really good.”
“Look,” Eric replied, flustered. “I, um, I’m on a date. I, uh, I go on many dates, actually, with, uh, the same person.”
Jesus, Eric, what are you doing? Why are you letting her get to you? Surely, you don’t still care about her!
“I still care about you, Eric. Listen, if it doesn’t work out, I’d love to catch up. See if…you know, if we—“
“It’s gonna work out,” he cut her off.
“Let me give you my number anyway.”
“You don’t have to—“
But she was already ready with a pen and jotting it down on a napkin, sliding it over to him. “It’s just me, Eric,” she whispered. “You know me. I’m available anytime.”
“He knows!” Travis blurted out rudely, without a care. “Every handyman on the upper east side knows!”
With a parting glare, Samantha walked away and Juliet…came right around and reclaimed her chair.
How long had she been there?
Her back was rigid as she carefully lowered herself into the chair and Travis watched as she discreetly palmed the inked-up cocktail napkin and slid it off the edge of the table. Her cheeks were an indiscernible shade of crimson and the tension was strong enough that it made Travis’s back hurt.
“Babe,” Eric started quietly. “That wasn’t—“
She forced a smile across her face and placed her now empty hand over his. “We’re having a nice evening. Let’s not ruin it, shall we?”
Beth shook her head earnestly. “Jules, honestly, Eric didn’t—“
When Juliet’s eyes darted into Beth’s, Travis suddenly saw the hurt that filled them. He had never wanted to hit a woman in his life, but if Samantha were a man, it would have taken an ambulance to haul her body out of there.
“I said that we’re going to continue to have a nice time tonight and if Eric and I have anything personal that needs to be discussed, we will do so later. Alone.” Letting out a breath, she laid her hand down in front of her and then looked at the empty space. “Did we already order?”
“Uh, yeah,” Eric cleared his throat. “Yeah, I, um, went ahead and ordered you the stuffed chicken breast, light seasoning, roasted potatoes, salad—“
“No onion, extra tomato?”
“Yes.”
“Dressing on the side?”
“Of course.”
Juliet smiled. “Thank you, that’s perfect. You know me so well.”
But was it perfect? Or was Juliet simply trying to keep the peace, using her smile as a defense mechanism against her wounded heart?
One thing was for sure—if Travis knew his brother like he knew he did, he was currently shaking in his boots. And for good reason.
ERIC’S TRUCK WAS dead silent as the city lights reflected across the windshield. They had just finished the most uncomfortable dinner Eric had ever sat through and he almost made himself sick with the way he had to choke down his food. The truth was, he’d lost his appetite the second he’d laid eyes on Samantha.
Jesus, why did she have to pop up now? Right now, when things were finally starting to go so well? Couldn’t Eric catch a break? Sitting next to him in his truck was…the one. She was it. He thought, once upon a time, that Samantha had been the one, but he’d been sorely mistaken, and was now glad for it. But now he knew. And he had already fought so hard to keep her and every time he thought he was ahead, another gauntlet was being thrown down.
He’d never been so exhausted in his life.
Juliet had barely said a word at dinner and when she did, it was forced. Her smiles were forced, her laughter was forced, none of it was real. None of it was comfortable. The tension at the table was so thick, he didn’t think a knife could even cut it. So, what was happening now? What was going through her head in this silence? Was this the end of them—again?
He glanced over at her and swallowed hard. He wanted so badly to open his mouth, but he had no idea where to start. All of the cliché lines didn’t feel right. “It wasn’t what it looked like.” “She invited herself to sit.” “I told her I wasn’t interested.” It didn’t matter what he said. Samantha was his past and Juliet had just come face-to-face with it. That was enough to make anyone upset.
After ten minutes of silence, Juliet’s quiet voice finally brought him back to the present. “She’s very pretty.”
One thing that hadn’t changed was that Samantha had always been beautiful. She didn’t hold a candle to Juliet, but she was definitely easy on the eyes. Luckily for Eric, though, the sight of her made his stomach churn.
“She’s, uh, she’s attractive, sure.”
“You can say it,” Juliet replied. “You’re not blind.”
“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “But she’s also one of my least favorite people, so…you know, that brings her down a few notches on the attractiveness scale.”
“The fact that you haven’t forgiven her is not a good sign.”
Eric’s eyes darted over to her as the blue glow of the dashboard lit up her silhouette. “Who said I haven’t forgiven her?”
“Have you?”
He mulled over it for a moment, deciding to be honest instead of dreaming up a reply. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“That’s a problem,” she blurted.
His jaw dropped in an attempt to reply, but he had nothing. What was he supposed to say? Did she think that…did she think that he missed her?
And then he remembered Juliet’s past. “Have you forgiven Steve?”
“Steve’s dead,” she spat.
Well, all right. She had him.
“That was a completely different situation,” she continued. “Steve beat the shit out of me, all Samantha did was fuck another guy.”
“Oh. So, I’m supposed to forgive a person for humiliating me and making a fool of me? Sorry, I didn’t get that memo.”
“Dr. Thorne is teaching me to forgive,” she said, her voice calming. “Eventually, I guess, I’ll get around to Steve, but that’s still different. Samantha is…around. Alive, in the flesh. And beautiful. And is someone you wanted to marry at some point, that’s—that’s kind of a big deal.”
“Jules,” he let out with an exasperated breath. “I couldn’t be more over that entire situation. You’re gonna have to trust me on that.”
“Your mind might be. But where is your heart?”
Eric paused, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was hers. How did she not know?
“Baby,” he breathed. “I don’t—I don’t know what else you want me to do—or—or say. I just don’t know. How else can I prove to you that I belong to you and that I literally haven’t thought about her in—since I met you!”
“I stood there and watched the whole thing, Eric, you could barely compose yourself with her sitting there.”
Oh, Jesus Christ, was she fucking kidding?
“You tell me that if Steve rose from the dead and showed up in front of your face, that you wouldn’t be just a little bit caught off guard. I know, I know, bad analogy, but he’s the only ex you’ve got…right?”
“Yeah,” she muttered.
“All right, then.”
“I want to go home.”
“Seriously? You’re ready to go home because you didn’t win this argument?”
“There was nothing to win!” She blurted defensively.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes!”
“You’re really sure? Because to me, this sounds like you, grasping for excuses to run. And, so help me god, we are not going through that again.”
There was silence for a moment as she sat across from him, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out the window. Finally, she creaked out, “I don’t want to run.”
“Then why do you keep coming at me like you’re trying to push me back into her arms or something? Sitting there, questioning my feelings and, hell, maybe even my fidelity. I mean, shit, Juliet, if you don’t know how I feel about you by now, I don’t know what the fuck else to do!”
“I just saw your ex for the first time, Eric, trying to throw herself all over you, and she’s beautiful! Isn’t that, like, a normal relationship thing, to be jealous of the ex or something? Am I not reacting normally? What the fuck am I supposed to do? Just pretend it never happened? Oh, wait. That’s apparently what I do best, right? I should have already done that. My bad.”
“Jules,” he whispered.
“I think I’m entitled to a little jealousy. I think I’m entitled to be a little uncomfortable with the idea of you coming face-to-face with your ex again, being a woman you were serious enough about to propose to. A woman that you loved and you cherished, shared your body and your life with. I think I’m entitled to that!”
Her words hit him right in his heart and he didn’t know what to feel. He wanted to pull the truck over and hold her. He wanted to come right out with the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks now, but now was absolutely not the right time for that. She would never believe him. And then there was the small part of him that felt happiness because it was then that he knew he belonged to her. Right there, in his truck, she had staked her claim on him. And, above anything, being wanted was, well, all he ever wanted from her.
But still. He just couldn’t let it rest. He just couldn’t leave it alone.
“But are you entitled to persecute me for my past? I’ve never once persecuted you for yours. I’ve never said two words about anything regarding your personal life before me—“
“Jason. Kamealoha. Let me remind you about that little display.”
Fuck. She was right. And he was a hypocrite.
“Now, please take me home. I can walk myself to my door.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Can we talk about this?”
“I’m talked out.”
“Then we’re going to my place.”
She looked over at him, incredulously, as he made the turn onto his block. “Excuse me? I asked you to take me home!”
“No, actually, you demanded I take you home.”
“I said please!”
“All right, fine. You said please. But don’t you think, at least for the sake of the therapy that we both pay for, that we should sit down and talk about this like adults instead of shutting down and pouting like children. It’s getting nothing accomplished.”
“Oh, you want the adult version? Fine, here it is. I hate your ex. She’s a fucking two-bit whore who let a good thing go to waste. And you know that and it’s why you couldn’t keep yourself from telling her to fuck off when she helped herself to your current girlfriend’s chair! What I wanted to do was take her by that pretty blonde hair of hers and bash her head into the table top. But that would have made me just like my ex, and we can’t have me going to jail. So. Here we are. We’ve talked. Now if you’ll just let me out here, I’ll walk home, thank you very much.”
Eric had no intention of stopping. Instead, he turned into his building’s parking garage and replied, “I agree. She is a two-bit whore. That’s why I dumped her. If I still wanted her, I’d be with her, a glutton for punishment. But, instead, I fell for you, the woman I’m currently having to force and beg to come into my home, be with me, and talk to me, so we can work this out and move on. I mean, what’s it going to take for you to want me, Juliet? I’m so fucking confused right now.”
As he pulled the truck into his usual parking space, on the top level of the garage, next to the breezeway that led to his floor, her eyes blinked wide at him against the yellow glow of the garage light. “I do want you.”
Turning off the ignition, he took her hand and held it tightly between both of his. “Then why do I always feel like I have to beg you to stay?”
Her eyes began to glisten and her chin trembled. Oh, fuck, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.
“Is that what you feel like?” She squeaked.
He forced out the breath he was holding. “Sometimes, yes.”
She sniffed as she glanced down at her lap. “I bet you wouldn’t have had to beg her to stay tonight. And I bet she wouldn’t have spilled her chardonnay all over her satin shirt.”
The corner of Eric’s mouth twitched. “First of all, I practically begged her to leave, she just wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. And secondly, she wouldn’t know good taste if it bit her in the ass, so her shirt probably would have been made out of cheap cotton. And then she would have talked about herself all night and I would have excused myself to vomit. And I’m barely exaggerating. The point is, you make me happy. I want you. And—and while I admit, the jealousy is slightly flattering, I don’t want you to worry yourself sick over it. She is so far out of the picture, I didn’t even know she was still in the area anymore—nor did I care. And for the record, I wasn’t going to do anything with that phone number. But I did notice you trying to be slick in getting rid of it. I would have thought it was kind of cute if I wasn’t scared shitless that you were going to leave me.”
“I can’t promise that I’ll never be jealous again. But I will promise that you’ll never have to beg me to stay. Or talk. Or anything. I mean, you know, unless I have to work or have a hair appointment or something.”
“Or like tomorrow with your weekly appointment with Beth,” he smiled.
She sniffed and she smiled. “We’re going to talk about you so hard.”
His smile widened. “I fully expect it. But, for now, it’s still early. Wanna come in and find a movie to watch? Fool around, maybe eat some gelato…?”
“All of the above,” she chose.
“Sweet,” he mumbled in victory.
As he hopped out of the truck and darted around to let Juliet out, she stepped onto the concrete and asked him, “Can you even have gelato?”
“Oh, my god, relax,” he groaned as he shoved the door shut and tossed his arm around her neck. “I’m a grown boy, I can take care of myself.” Then his arm slipped to her waist. “And I can take care of you.”
“Yeah?” She smiled playfully as she bit her bottom lip. “You gotta catch me first.”
Darting out of his reach, she trotted ahead of him, apparently expecting him to chase her. He didn’t pick up his speed. Instead, he watched her reach for the glass door excitedly and he shook his head and called out, “Come on, you gotta have the key to unlock the door!” Catching up to her, he swiped the tiny black square across the red light and waited for the door to click before he opened it. Then he waved her inside and he stood there. “Go ahead, do your thing, I’m right behind you.”
“Well, it’s no fun now,” she pouted.
He smirked at her. “Try me.”
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. And then it was the best of times all over again. And all because of Juliet Carson.