Outer Core (11 page)

“Same here,” I say as we draw back. Reaching for the night lotion, I open the little jar. “You ruined me for anyone else that morning. No, wait; it was actually the night before, at that fundraiser.”

Daniel takes the lotion from my hand, sinks the tip of his finger in the pinkish cream, and sets it aside. He gives me a soft smile, dabbing four little spots on my face. Forehead, cheeks, and ends with my chin. He presses a kiss to my nose and starts smoothing the lotion onto my skin. I wrap my legs around his pelvis, tipping my face back, fluttering my eyes closed. The gentle touch of his fingers on my skin feels wonderful.

“You ruined me for others when you stepped into my kitchen.”

I open my eyes, which are lightly heated by his proximity. “Oh wait, it was actually that graceful ‘fuck me.'” His lopsided smile makes an appearance.

I return his bright stare from under my lashes. My eyes descend to his lips, to his carved chest, to the sprinkle of darker hair leading into his jeans. I slowly trail my eyes back to his and huskily whisper, “Fuck me.”

Daniel's stare dims as he leans in to meet my lips with a kiss that revs up the heat dominating each part of me since he moved to stand behind me. Our tongues graze, taste, smooth against one another, accelerating the rhythm to aggressive, possessive, and needy. He breaks the almost manic connection, his eyes searing into mine. Taking a step back, he rips my shorts off me, sliding them down my legs. His fingers find the hem of my panties and ever so slowly drag them down my body. Determined, he continues to free me of my tank top. Still watching me like he's about to drag me into his lair, he unbuttons his jeans. Pushing them down together with his boxers, his hands slide to my inner thighs, spreading them further apart. He watches me for a heated beat as I'm splayed open before him, my breathing heavier. My eyes hooded, my lips parted, my inside humming and begging for his touch. His hand moves to hold himself at the base, the other slowly stroking upward. A pant leaves my lips, watching him, every piece of my skin heats up. Hazel stare drinks me in as one of his hands grabs my hip while the other guides him to me. He teases, rubbing himself at my heated spot, repeatedly stealing incoherent, raw sounds out of me. I fall back to rest on my elbows for a better view of the sensual display. He stiffens, his breath held as he sinks into me. In unison, we let out an expel of pleasure. And then, as I asked, he fucks me. Powerfully. Fiercely. Complete with untamed craze.

I resurface from a deep sleep to gentle strokes of my hair. Blinking a couple of times, I work to adjust my vision to the faintly illuminated room. I crane my neck to look up at Daniel, who meets my gaze with a gentle, lopsided smile. He sits next to me on the bed in a suit, his freshly showered scent bathing me.

“What's the time?” I say in a raspy voice.

“Two a.m.” He dips his mouth to press a kiss on my forehead. I study him under the soft light coming from the slightly ajar bathroom door in the otherwise dark room. He brings his hand to brush a wayward curl from my face. “I'm leaving in five. There's something I wanted to tell you before I go.”

“What is it?”

He takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. “The results came in,” he says. I wait for him to go on, unable to breathe. “It's not mine.”

I close my eyes, pushing out the breath I've been holding. I squeeze his hand, my eyes caressing his handsome features. “I love you.”

He slowly leans in to press another kiss on my forehead. Lowering his lips, he kisses the tip of my nose and moves on to my lips. He brushes my lips with a series of gentle kisses. His mouth trails lower, leaving supple kisses over my neck. Reaching my collarbone, his lips kiss a path from one side to the other.

I watch him as he straightens to sit. His fingers thread at either side of my temple, tender eyes on mine. His low voice breaks the silence. “Love is a weak word to express how I feel about you, Hales.”

I rise up to sit, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him so hard, I drop him back to the bed. I kiss him some more, finding it almost impossible to finally let him go.

“What do you say?” Tasha asks. Tilting her head sideways, she examines what Ian and I are studying with great concentration. Seeming undecided, she says, “Maybe we should drink first. Alcohol is known to free your imagination and fuel creativity.” The three of us exchange animated stares. “Okay, drink up,” she commands.

In unison, Tasha and Ian take the shot glass before them and throw it back as if it's their job. A wince moves in succession from Tasha to Ian.

“Shit's lethal,” Ian murmurs, heaving a breath.

“l'chaim. . .” I mumble to my sparkling water.

A sinister grin rises up Tasha's lips. “Suck it up, big boy.” She pats Ian's shoulder. “It'll grow hair on your chest.” She shrugs off his middle finger gesture with light laughter and turns to the counter. Ian and I mirror her as she resumes studying our production.

“Feels like something is missing.” Ian's words trail off pensively. He circles his finger in the air, pointing at the object we're studying. “Maybe more lubricant?”

I can't help the humored snort from escaping my mouth.

“What?” he says with a chuckle. “It'll slide better into your mouth.” Tasha bursts into a giggle at his side.

“I actually love me some old-fashioned friction, if ya know what I mean.” I wink at him to be rewarded with an impish chuckle.

“How about we pour some warm chocolate on it? What do you say?” Tasha asks, her lips stretched mischievously.

Ian and I give each other an assessing glance. “It might soften it, but I prefer it hard,” he says, hamming it up with the gravity in his voice.

“More whipped cream?” I try.

On cue, Tasha snatches the Reddi Wip, sprays out a foamy string, and sends out the tip of her tongue for a taste. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Tash, Tash, Tash.” Ian shakes his head. “What's up with the late-night soft porn? You trying to make my boy parts tingle?”

Tasha claps a hand to her mouth. “Ohmygod, you're on to me.” She blinks a couple of times. “Maybe it's time I confessed.” She captures Ian's stare. “My secret lifelong dream, mysterious even to me, has been to convert you.” She gestures her hand over Ian; adding a sultry hue to her voice, she says, “All of this hotness unattainable, yet so close.”

“Can't blame ya,” Ian says with a light sway of his head. He gives our creation one last glance before declaring, “
Perfect
. Ladies?” His smile grows sinister. “Ready for some oral play?”

Marilyn's “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” has nothing on my voice when I say, “I thought you'd never ask.”

We settle down on the rug. Ian is wedged between Tash and me with the obscene bowl of banana split we've concocted on his lap.

“I swear this is the most hazardous dish on the planet,” I say, digging a spoon into the summit of sugar, fat, and God knows how much artificial goodness.

Tasha brings a spoonful to her lips. “We should've booked a bypass for later, just in case.”

“Or at least, a colonic,” I add.

Ian snorts. “Okay, shut your faces now, or I'll banish you to the kitchen. This is the best part.”

Ian, Tasha, and I, spoons held in mouths, grow silent and stare at the wide screen. For a long, focused beat, we're all fixated on the screen. We sigh in unison when the scene of Ryan Gosling hot and heavy with, who really cares, fades to black.

“Now, this is the stuff dreams are made of,” Ian says, pausing the movie on an almost full frontal. Naturally, we nod in agreement. “So, Hales, are you knocked up yet?”

Come again?
Startled, my head jerks Ian's way. “Wha?”

He twists his mouth. “Do you have a little Starky human in your womb, yet?” then, “Un Starky bebé en tu útero?”

“How do you even know how to say uterus in Spanish?” Tasha wonders out loud.

“The real question should be how did we get from that.” I throw my hand to the screen. “To whether I'm with a child.”

Ian grins. “Ryan always makes my ovaries rattle. And ovaries, you know . . .” His smile morphs into a smirk.

Tasha studies me for a lengthened moment with narrowed eyes and a start of a smile.

“What?” I ask.

“Well, are you?”

“Don't you guys have any boundaries?”

Their mocking snorts come in stereo and so does the adamant, “
No
.”

I take a deep breath. “I might be,” comes out on an exhale.

Ian's features turn confused in tandem to the crease of Tasha's brows. “What does that mean?” Tasha is the one to voice the question.

A mini-debate starts in my head before I decide to spill it. They are Tasha and Ian, after all. The only people with a standing front-row seat to my crazy. “Um, I'm a couple of days late, but it doesn't really mean anything. And I bought, like, a bazillion and one home pregnancy tests. I kid you not. But I can't bring myself to actually take one.” They both look at me with patience, letting me get it all out. “But, on the other hand, I don't even want to know. I'm freaked out and excited at the same time. Do I even make any sense?” I don't let them answer. “I really try not to obsess about it. Because eventually, I'll find out whether I want to or not.” I end my meltdown with shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

“You'll eventually know? Like, when a little hand pops out of your vagina and waves?” Ian waves a little wave, backing his question.

Tasha rolls her eyes with a thin smile and turns to me. “Don't you want to find out?”

“Yes and no.” I sigh.
Yes, you're a nutjob. Great maternal material here. But look at the bright side, these two are used to it. And can easily give you a run for your money. The boy especially.

“Let's all take one together.” I can't help breaking into laughter. Yes, that came from Ian.
I rest my case!

“Moron.” Tasha shakes her head, her lips in a wide grin.

“What?” Ian chuckles. “I'm serious. Come on, it'll be a hoot.”

I shake my head five minutes later as we're all leaning against the bathroom wall, waiting for our results.
Well, if you can't beat them, join the not of sound mind.
Even though I'm freaked to my bones, I can't stop snickering, watching Ian wait for his results.

“Great! I get to cross this off my bucket list tonight,” Ian says, yanking me out of my stress bubble.

Tasha and I crane our heads that are rested on the wall, squinting our eyes to look at him.

“You had taking a pregnancy test on your bucket list?” Tasha gives Ian an incredulous stare.

He smirks at her. I choose to believe he's messing with us.
There's just so much lunacy one can encompass.

Tasha checks her watch. “Ready, Hales?”

I nod.

We scatter to three different corners of the ample bathroom. We made sure to place each stick in a concealed spot. Tight as we are, there are some things one should never be exposed to.

“Thank God, negative,” Ian declares in Ian fashion.

“Can you please stop waving your stick at us? There was a purpose to keeping it covered,” Tasha chides.

“Oh honey, don't insult me. A stick?” Ian drops his eyes to his sweats-clad groin, tilting his head from side to side. “Um, I'd go with a trunk.”

Tasha and I throw our eyes to the ceiling.

“Negative,” Tasha says, wrapping her stick in toilet paper. She shifts her eyes to me, mirroring Ian.

“Negative.” The mixed emotions in me are jarring.

They both come closer, placing their arms around either side of my waist. “You okay?” Tasha asks.

“I guess.” I shrug, having a hard time wrapping my head around what I'm feeling. How can one feel such great relief and immense disappointment at the same time?

“Look at the positive side. We can now drop sweet and move on back to booze.” Ian squeezes me into him.

“I'll pass on the alcohol, thank you,” I say, discarding my stick.

“Great! More for us,” Tasha sings.

For the next couple of hours, I'm not able to think about the results even once, for I'm too occupied trying not to lose a lung due to excessive laughter. The combination of my friends and booze is practically fatal.

“Awake?” Ian says to the calm silence, his voice uncharacteristically grave. Too exhausted and comfortable, we've decided to camp out in the wilderness of the living room.

Tasha and I raise our heads from either side of his chest. “Yesss?” Tasha questions.

I'm not sure what makes my heart drop; the tone of his voice or what actually comes out of his mouth when he says, “I ended things with Josh.”

“Oh, Ian,” Tasha says.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, finding Tasha's eyes through the dark. We exchange a concerned stare. “You sure it was the right thing to do?” My voice has the same gentle quality as Tasha.

I feel the rolling shake in his chest before his chuckle reaches us. “Told you I'm a terrific actor,” he says over his rolling laughter. The laughter elevates when two thrown pillows meet his face at the same time.

“Idiot,” Tasha murmurs.

When his chuckles subside, and Tasha and I are back to snuggling on his chest, Ian says, “We didn't break up, but we're moving in together.”

Needless to say, not much sleep occurs after this bomb.

“Hayley? What
are you
doing here so early?”

“I can ask you the same thing, Boss.” I stifle a yawn, swiveling in my chair to face Josh.

“I have an early budget meeting I need to prepare for. What's your excuse?”

“I don't sleep very well alone.” I leave out the part that each time Daniel is either about to board a plane or land, I stress out. Let's just say, I was able to breathe a little better once I got a text, about half an hour ago, telling me he's back on SF soil.