Текст книги "The Girl Of Tokens and Tears"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

CHAPTER SIX

By four in the afternoon, I’m pissed. Neil said he would call and then didn’t. What a jerk. And I’m really annoyed with myself that I’ve spent an entire day wondering what the heck happened last night.

The more I replay it in my head, the less it makes sense. It was weird. There is no other word for it. But then there’s a lot about Neil that is just plain weird. What kind of guy admits to your face he’s had a boner over you for three weeks and never tries to make a move on you?

I shake my head, frustrated with my thoughts. It’s an unexpectedly emotionally taxing process to try to figure out a guy who doesn’t want to have sex with you.

The phone rings. I don’t move from my seat on the couch. Maria can answer it. It’s probably not even Neil. The phone rings nonstop all day for Jack.

I’m disappointed to realize I’m straining to hear Maria’s voice in the kitchen. And I’m also disappointed to realize I’m more than a little anxious wondering if it is Neil. Crap, we’re not even dating and I’m a fucked-up mess over him.

Finally. Maria exits the kitchen carrying the phone. So Neil did decide to call, after leaving me hanging all day.

I take the phone from her hand. “Hello.”

“Hi, Chrissie.”

I purposely don’t say hi back to Neil. A long pause. I can hear him breathing into the phone. I run my tongue along my dry lips and then pucker them tightly.

I wait.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, an edge of contrite misery in his voice.

“It’s all right. No big deal. Just forget about it.”

I shake my head in frustration. What’s up with all the apologies? I don’t know why he keeps apologizing or why the apologies make my emotional messy messier.

“It’s not all right. I was an asshole. No guy should treat you that way.”

I struggle not to respond. God, this is awful. From completely comfortable with Neil to completely not comfortable with Neil, and all I did was give him a hand job in the car. My emotions turn; my stomach feels sick.

“I have to go, Neil.”

I start to hang up. I hear, “No! No, wait.”

I hold the receiver back against my ear.

“Are you still there, Chrissie?”

“I’m here.”

Another pause.

“Are we cool, Chrissie? Is everything OK between us?”

“Yep.” It’s the only word I can work out of my mouth.

More silence. Then, “I’ll pick you up in about an hour.”

That wasn’t even a request.

I don’t answer him.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he repeats.

I take in a ragged breath. “OK.” I quickly click off the phone.

I toss the phone and then run my fingers through my hair. I rest my forehead in my palms. Why am I letting him pick me up? Talking on the phone with Neil was bad enough. Seeing him is going to be just unbearable.

The doorbell rings exactly one hour later. I sit on the bed and let Maria answer it. I’ve been dressed for over half an hour, but I’m not going to hurry out there. Neil wanted to pick me up. He can cool his heels with Maria for a while.

I go back into my bathroom, and give my hair and makeup once last check. I stare at myself in the mirror. At least I look together on the surface. I’m anything but together internally.

When I went to my bedroom to dress, I started to wonder why Neil wanted to see me. Belatedly, it occurred to me he might want to tell me to my face he doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore. It surprised me how much the thought of that hurt me, and has made me more than a little nervous over the possibility that is why he wants to see me today.

Getting dumped when you are not even a guy’s girlfriend would be a humiliating thing.

I let fifteen minutes pass. I head for the living room. I stop in the entry hall and stare. Neil is across the room with Jack. They’re standing in front of the glass guitar cases, talking quietly. Neil’s stance tells me he’s engaged in the conversation with my dad. They’re probably all consumed in music talk. Musicians are always comfortable talking music together.

My brows hitch upward when I take note of how Neil is dressed. Nice jeans. A V-neck, long sleeve, gray wool sweater. A white t-shirt peeking from beneath the collar. Not even flip-flops today. Sneakers. I’ve never seen Neil in anything but his work clothes and casual-messy attire. It’s almost like he dressed for a date.

“Why didn’t you tell me your janitor was a musician?”

Jack’s amused voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I flush. “He’s not my janitor.”

I regret that comment the second it’s out because something flashes in Neil’s eyes, too quickly for me to read it, but it makes me feel bad anyway.

I drag my gaze away from Neil by focusing on walking into the sunken living room. I feel Neil’s eyes following me as I sit on the arm of the sofa. I let out a nervous breath.

“Are you ready to go?” Neil asks.

I nod.

“Where are you off to tonight?” Jack asks.

God, even this is weird. Until I saw Neil standing with my dad it didn’t register in my brain that I haven’t had a guy home to meet Jack since I was thirteen.

“Probably just dinner,” I hear Neil say from across the room. “I’ll have Chrissie home early.”

Early? What the does that mean?

“Are you ready to go?”

I look up. Neil has crossed the room to me without me noticing.

“You already asked. I already answered,” I say, rolling to my feet.

After Neil says his goodbyes to Jack, we walk in silence out of the house and across the driveway towards his car. I don’t know why I’m being so combative and petty. It’s just dinner. I’m not exactly sure why I’m going with him. I’m definitely not sure of Neil’s motivation in this.

Neil unlocks and opens my car door. He studies me cautiously. “I can’t read your mood. Are you pissed off? Are you upset with me? Or do you want to tell me fuck off and go away?”

I drop into the passenger seat. I peek up at him through my lashes. He looks nervous as hell. That surprises me, and for some reason it makes my mood soften.

“I don’t know yet,” I say. “This feels odd.”

Neil lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think odd covers it, Chrissie.”

He shuts my door. I try to look at him as he moves around the front of the car and then settles in the driver’s seat.

“Whose car is this?” I ask.

It’s nice. It’s a brand-new BMW. It seems like such a non-Neil thing to be driving an expensive car.

He turns on the ignition. “Mia’s. She doesn’t usually toss me the keys. I told her I fucked up last night. She practically hit me in the face with them when I asked to borrow it tonight.”

I exhale a long, ragged breath. “You seem really close to Mia.”

Neil nods and flicks on a turn signal. “I am. Mia and I’ve always gotten along. I don’t really fit in with the rest of cousins.”

I nod. I could feel that last night at Knapp’s Castle.

He turns onto the freeway heading south. I debate whether to ask him where we’re going.

Neil lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know yet.”

Neil exhales. I can feel his eyes on me. “Are you going to stay pissed at me the entire night?”

“It depends on why you’re doing this. What this is. If it’s going to be awful, we should probably pass on dinner. I probably won’t eat.”

He searches my face. Then he smiles and laughs. “I don’t know if it’s going to be awful, Chrissie. I haven’t been on a date in a really long time. I could fuck this up too.”

Date?  I stare at him.

“What do you mean date? Since when are we dating instead of hanging-out buddies?”

He looks at the clock on the dash. His eyes are amused. “Since about twenty minutes ago. Why do you think I borrowed Mia’s car to pick you up? I have three sisters. My dad’s a cop. I can’t date a girl without meeting her father.”

I stare out the window. I try to contain my rapidly churning emotions. My anger at his arrogance. My frustration over how emotionally volatile I am tonight with Neil. And the sudden, unexpected flash of relief. He’s not dumping me; he’s trying to date me.

Neil surprises me a second time by driving out on the pier. My stomach somersaults as he pulls into the valet lane in front of one of my favorite restaurants—Neil hates the pier. He thinks it’s touristy. He brought me someplace I would like.

He takes my hand and guides me into the restaurant. We sit upstairs on the outside patio staring at the water, the boats, and the people around us.

Once the waitress has taken our dinner order and left the table, Neil asks, “You’re very quiet, Chrissie. What are you thinking?”

I shrug. “I was just thinking that I’ve never really been on a date before.”

Neil smiles and takes a sip of his ice-tea. “What do you mean you’ve never been on a date before? You must have dated a lot in high school.”

He’s staring at me in a way that tells me he thinks I’m joking.

My cheeks redden. “I’ve had boyfriends. Well, two. But I haven’ been on a real date. You know. Pick me up. Meet my dad. Take me out and then take me home. A date-date.”

He studies me quizzically, and then gives me a small smile. “How do you think it’s going so far?”

I laugh. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when it’s over. But it’s going OK so far.”

We both laugh this time.

We’re not talking a lot as we eat our dinner, but I think the laughter made it all less uncomfortable than it was when we first got to the restaurant.

After dinner, we take a walk along the pier. At the end, I lean over the rail, staring at the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a quick peek at Neil. He looks as awkward in this as I feel, and I never expected that from Neil. He’s always so calm, so sure of himself. He always has an air of popular-guy superiority about him. It’s kind of sweet that Neil feels awkward on a date with me.

Wind and dampness brush my skin.  I shiver.

“I should get you home. I promised your dad I’d get you home early.”

I nod. It’s been a good night. Something in me doesn’t want to push the evening farther.

I turn from the rail and start to walk. We stop at the valet, and we wait for the car to be brought around.

“Do you still have it?” he asks.

I frown. “Have what?”

“The half dollar?”

Our silly bet. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me he doesn’t think I kept my half of the dollar. I rummage through my bag, pull out my wallet, unzip the pocket, and hold the half dollar beneath his nose.

“Do you still have yours?” I ask.

He stops and lets go of my hand. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and fishes it out.

I stare up at him. I would have never bet in a million years Neil had kept his half of the dollar.

“Why’d you keep it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just like that. I keep all sorts of things.”

When the car arrives, he opens my door before the valet can come around. He stares down at me. “Why’d you keep yours?”

Those green eyes are fixed on my face.

“I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. I don’t know why I kept that silly half dollar, made in a bet, from a guy who wasn’t even interested in me.

I watch Neil climb into the car beside me. We drive back to my dad’s house in silence, only I like our silence this time. He pulls into my driveway, parks, and turns off the car.

“I had a good time tonight, Chrissie.”

“I had a good time, too.”

“So do you think you might want to do this again?”

I smile. “It would be all right.”

He leans in and gives me a feather-light kiss. He pulls back quickly and climbs from the car.

He opens my door. I climb out. When he closes the passenger door, I lean back against it. I should go into the house.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Good night, Chrissie.”

I stare up at him.

Neil steps into me, his hands planted on either side of me, and I’m flattened against the car, and he’s kissing me passionately. Across my face. My cheeks. My lips. His lower body pushing into me in time with the thrusts of his tongue. The hungriness of the assault makes my head spin, because I can feel raging desire and need in how he’s kissing me. And I can feel it inside of me as I match each kiss and thrust.

I lock my mouth to his and the twisting urgency of my body moves against his fully erect cock. He’s grinding into me, as if he can’t get close enough. I feel my body building and building. My flesh heats. My heart accelerates.

Neil breaks off. He steps back. We’re both breathing raggedly.

“Shit,” he says, leaning forward. He looks dizzy, disoriented, aroused.

I stare at him. “Don’t leave yet. You can stay for a while, Neil.”

His arms are quivering. He’s trying to calm himself. “I’ve got to go, Chrissie. I can’t stay here with you. Your dad is in the house.”

My eyes widen and my cheeks flush. Neil always plays it so cool, but he’s as hot for me as I am for him tonight.

“I want you to stay,” I repeat.

I’m shocked by my admission. Neil looks undecided, almost vulnerable as he exhales another long breath and stares at me.

I take his hand and start pulling him with me around the house to the side.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I peek around into the backyard. Jack isn’t on the patio. I tug on Neil again, this time at a running pace, and drag him into the pool house. I lock the door behind me. I lean back against it.

Neil stops in the center of the room, his gaze does a fast float across the fully appointed bedroom, and then he stares at me.

“No one ever comes here,” I say.

My voice sounds strange. Excited, and lower than usual. I can feel everything in my body. The blood pumping through my veins. The pulse in my sex. The rise and fall of my breasts. Even the wayward strands of hair teasing my cheeks as I breathe.

“Are you sure?” Neil asks.

I’m not sure what he’s asking me.

“That no one ever comes here? Or that I want to go to bed with you?”

“Both?” he asks.

My lids flutter wide. “I’m sure about both.” And I’m surprised how sure I feel about everything this second.

Neil starts to move towards me. My breath catches in my throat. In a moment, he’s back on me, pushing me into the wall, his cock rubbing me, eager and demanding. I moan into his mouth, parting my lips so his tongue can invade me. The touch of it against mine brings the urgency singing through my limbs. There is something hard and immediate in Neil’s kiss. I’ve never been kissed like this. Not in this bludgeoning desperation. Not even by Alan in his most passionate moments. Neil is all consuming, in want of flesh and nothing else.

I close my eyes against the disorienting, leveling assault of sensation running through me. His hands close on my wrists and he starts to move us toward the bed. Between kisses and grinds, we shed our clothes, dumping them in a trail on the floor.

I feel his erection searching against me. I open my eyes as he takes us back upon the bed. Between kisses and brushes against my sex, he works at tearing open a small foil package. For some reason, seeing that heightens my arousal; the thought that he brought it, and perhaps planned through dinner how he would get to use it with me.

He eases enough away from me to slip it on, and then he’s in me, hard and searching at first thrust.

“Oh fuck, Chrissie,” he groans into my mouth pumping, filling, searching in my flesh.

The thrusts are good. I’m almost there. My hips start to move in their own rhythm, using his body to hit all my spots of inner arousal. I’m moving in my own dance. He’s moving in his own dance. Looking for release. Separate, bodies joined, and yet it is strangely right that it should be this way with Neil. The command of our bodies for our own pleasure. Me taking him as I want. Him taking me as he wants. No emotional convolution. Just sex and want and need.

My head starts to sway on the pillow. My breathing matches his own ragged inhales. I’m nearly there, painfully wet and tight around him.

“Oh fuck,” he growls. And then there’s the sensation of Neil, overwhelmed by his climax, the intensity of his release, flooding my veins as he pours into me.

It takes me a moment to realize his body has stopped. My body still wants. It continues to seek even after that last oh fuck.

I open my eyes. He’s still in me. On me. Balancing on his arms, breathing heavily, his features awash with almost relieved contentment.

I’m pulsing and close to the edge. He looks down at me and pulls out, easing off of me. He takes the condom off, tossing it carelessly on the floor.

I stare. I pant in. I pant out. I brush the passion damp hair from my face. I fight to ignore my still overly alert body.

I don’t know what is on my face, but Neil’s expression changes, a slight reddening moving across his features. He lays his head back on the pillow. He covers his face with his forearm. He looks really cute flushed with embarrassment. It makes it almost OK that I didn’t get to come.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about this for three fucking months. I’m not usually so…”his voice trails off.

“Quick,” I whisper, biting my lower lip.

He laughs. He lifts his arm from his face. His eyes are smiling when he looks at me. “It’s been a long time. I haven’t been with anyone since my ex.”

I curl into his sex damp flesh, laying my cheek on his chest. His skin feels good against my flesh. I rub my nose against him. I even like the smell of Neil.

“How long ago was that?” I ask.

“Six months.”

My eyes round. “You haven’t had sex in six months?”

“Nope.” He holds up his hand. “All these calluses are not only from playing guitar.”

I flush and he laughs. He curls into me and starts to kiss me. “If you give him a blow job, I bet he’ll come back really quickly also.”

I crinkle my nose.

“No?” he whispers between kisses.

“No.”

He starts moving down my body, his kisses roaming from my neck to breast to the full underside. My alert sex ticks upward in need. With his hands, he eases me onto my back, his lips roaming lower. To my navel. My pelvis. My mound. He kisses the inside of my thigh. My fingers curl around the sheets.

And very slowly, teasingly, he brings his tongue to that spot on my clit that makes me crazy. Then it is nothing but breaths and fingers, tongue and tantalizing strokes. My back arches. My body tightens in record speed. Damn, he’s good, really good at this. For some reason, I didn’t expect Neil to be.

My legs start to quake and I grind into his mouth. He doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t toy with me, bringing me to the edge, and then taking it from me. He takes me directly there. I come hard and fast against his face.

I’m panting heavily, trying to calm my scattered senses. He kisses his way back upward on my body, claiming my mouth with his, his tongue swirling in me so I can taste me on him. His finger lightly glides over my still pulsing sex.

“It sucks that you’re so quick,” he whispers into my ear.

My lids fly wide. It’s then I see the grin on his face.

“It’s been a long time,” I say sheepishly.

Neil reclines on his side, looking down at me. “Since Alan Manzone?”

I don’t correct him. For some reason I don’t want to tell Neil about my one night stand in August. And in truth, I don’t even count that, because that sexual experience didn’t even touch me.

He lies back on the bed, pulling me against his body.

“What’s with that scar on your wrist?” he asks quietly. “And the ones on your stomach and leg.”

My gut churns. I should have prepared for that question. I didn’t. I didn’t expect Neil to notice the burns on my body, or to ask. And I’m really not prepared for it, emotionally. I’ve only talked about this to three people: Linda Rowan, Jack, and Alan.

I take in a ragged breath. “I used to have problems, Neil. I used to be a pretty fucked up girl.”

Neil’s eyes widen, answering in sympathetic heaviness. He turns on his side, moving me into the spoon of his body.

Into my hair, he says, “I used to have problems, too. I was pretty fucked up.”

I debate with myself if I should ask what kind of problems. “Are you OK now?” I ask instead.

His chest shimmies with a hard exhale of breath. “I don’t know, Chrissie. I’m trying to be.”

I kiss his arm. “I don’t know if I am either.”

We lie together, sexually spent, emotionally messy, and in this companionable sadness hovering in the room, we feel good. Really, really good together.

~~~

A sound wakes me and I turn over in bed to find Neil grabbing his clothes from the ground and quickly dressing.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

Neil looks at me, continuing to dress. “Fuck, Chrissie. We fell asleep. I should have been out of here hours ago.”

I rub the sleep from my eyes. I stare at the window, the light pouring in through the shutters.

He stops at the bed. “What do you think is the best way out of here? I don’t want to run into Jack. Do you think he’s still asleep?”

My eyes round. His nervousness and anxiousness makes me start to laugh.

“I wouldn’t count on Jack being asleep. He wakes at dawn every day. He’s probably sitting by the pool already.”

Neil’s expression is priceless. I bury my face into the pillow, laughing until I’m nearly in tears.

I peek up at him.

“Fuck.” Neil runs an anxious hand through his hair. His eyes sharpen. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” And I really don’t. I didn’t think that far ahead last night.

I sit up, tugging the blanket with me to cover my naked breasts.

“Just leave,” I suggest.

Neil’s eyes widen. “Like that. Just walk out there.”

He’s staring at me like I’m out of my mind.

His gaze softens. “I had a good night with you, Chrissie.”

My flesh warms. “I had a good night with you.”

He goes to the bathroom, comes back with a handful of tissues, and starts picking up the condoms off the floor. I lay back against the pillow on my side watching him.

“When do you go back to Berkeley?” I ask.

“This afternoon.”

He balls up the condoms and tissues, almost tosses it in the trash, then thinks better of it and shoves it into his pocket.

I stare up at him. “I leave today too. Don’t fly. Drive back with me.”

It looks like he’s debating with himself and a whisper of hurt moves through me since I can’t figure out why he would debate that. Free transportation over a high-priced plan ticket? A no brainer. Does he want space from me?

He sinks down beside me on the bed and kisses me.

“What time are you leaving?” he asks.

“I want to get on the road around eleven.”

Neil nods. “I can get Mia’s car back to her and packed up by then.”

I smile. I watch him move toward the door. He puts his hand on the knob. He shakes his head. He leans his brow against the wood. He says, “Oh fuck,” and then he passes through the door.