Unsuitable Men (13 page)

When she closed her eyes, he told her to open them again. He wanted her to see him, to see that he wanted her, but could take pleasure in her pleasure; to see that he could wait until she had everything she needed; that she didn’t need to rush frantically toward orgasm because he could be trusted to make sure she got there.

And he made sure she did. With his fingers, with his tongue; three times before he would allow her to touch him and even then, he would not let her use her mouth on him. That was too much for now, and ran the risk of making him forget who this was about, and what he was trying to do. When she did touch him, she was different. Slower, more patient, remembering the way he had been with her. Brendan made sure he was on top, looking right into her eyes when he entered her, kissing the side of her face and her neck, telling her she was beautiful, reminding her to open her eyes again whenever she shut them.

Once inside her, he moved slowly, so, so slowly, and when Tracy tried to increase the pace, wanting to slam her hips hard against his, he held her still. He moved inside her one slow inch forward, two back, making her focus on the finely-tuned and delicate sensation of welcoming him into her body. When he couldn’t stand it himself, and was so hard he thought he might lose consciousness from the pressure, he moved a little faster, pushed a little deeper, but only marginally.

When he didn’t hear her, Brendan pulled back a little, swallowing hard, still fighting to maintain his own control.

“Baby . . .” he breathed. “You okay?”

Brendan was stunned when she reached up and pulled him down, both her hands on the sides of his face.

“Please,” she said over and over again. “
Please
.”

At that, he finally gave in, thrusting hard and fast, and allowing her move at a pace of her choosing. It was only moments afterward that she exploded about him, calling his name, either as curse or endearment, he wasn’t sure, and her arms wrapped tightly about his neck.

When the tremors inside her stopped, he moved slowly once again, finally feeling it was safe to reach his own satisfaction. But Tracy was quivering beneath him and for a moment, Brendan thought he’d misread the cues of her body and that she was still in the throes of orgasm, but when he looked down, he saw that she was crying, deep but quiet sobs wracking her body. He tried to pull out of her but she wouldn’t let him. She wrapped her arms even more tightly about his neck as though she never
wanted
to let go, pressing herself closer, pull
ing him even deeper inside her.

When your own home started feeling like a place where you didn’t belong, you had to sit up and take note, Tracy thought as she opened the door. The air was a little stale and it took her a moment to remember that she’d turned off the air before she left for work on Thursday, and she’d been gone three nights. She turned it back on and headed upstairs to look for something to wear. Though she’d been able to get away with wearing her suit from work on Friday to the church for the baby’s blessing, she needed something different for the party at Shawn and Riley’s later this afternoon.

As much as she’d wanted to go back to Brendan’s with him after church and hang out till it was time to go to Jersey, it wasn’t possible. She didn’t keep clothes there, and had been careful to leave nothing behind, ever, not even a toothbrush. That was becoming a lot more challenging since over the past month she’d gone from spending one or two nights over, to an average of three. Each time, it seemed spur-of-the-moment; she only planned to have dinner with him, having brought over something from Zabar’s or his favorite restaurant and a bottle of wine. They usually ate dinner in the kitchen and he talked to her about his work which she found surprisingly interesting. Then they’d go with the wine into his bedroom to watch some television and Tracy fell asleep with her head on his chest. Or, if they were feeling frisky (which was almost always) they fooled around until she was squirming and moaning and almost begging for it. Okay, not almost. She did beg for it.

No one had ever made her feel the way he did in bed. Like she was completely and utterly out of control. Somehow he knew how to touch her in a way that made pleasure radiate throughout her entire body, no matter where his hands actually were. His fingers brushing across her face were enough to make her push her hips toward him, anticipating where he would take her and how.
And the stuff he said!
Despite her experience, Tracy had never been much into talking in bed, and if a man talked, she invariably wished he would shut the hell up and get on with it. But with Brendan it was different.
She
liked
talking to him. And n
ot only did he like talking, he was always saying the kind of shocking things that would have made her blush if she wasn’t so damn turned on by it all. And despite that, nothing with him felt dirty or taboo, it just felt . . . right.

Two weeks ago, while they were making love, she had been overcome with the desire to feel him, not a rubberized version of him, but
him
. And she told him so.

When she said the words, he’d hesitated, and for a moment she was sorry she’d brought it up, her face burning with shame.

Okay
, he said finally.
So we’ll go get tested.

She nodded, relieved that he hadn’t recoiled at the idea altogether.

And you’re on the pill, right?

Of course
, Tracy had laughed.

Well, you know I had to ask
, Brendan said.
You look at Cullen and you get that hungry look those women who don’t have babies sometimes get.

Tracy had reared back and slugged him with a pillow.
Oh you should be so lucky as to have babies with me, Brendan Cole.

Well they would be beautiful babies
, he said seriously. And then after a pause.
But to be clear, you
are
on the pill, right?

I am,
she told him again, looking him in the eye.
But there’s one other thing.

Isn’t there always?
Brendan asked, lowering his head to take one of her nipples between his lips.

If we do this, you understand you still have to use condoms with any other partners you might have, right?

He froze for a moment and released her nipple looking at her for what seemed like a long while. She couldn’t figure out what his expression meant. But finally he nodded and lowered his head to her breast once again.

Tracy had swallowed her hurt.

Now she had all the confirmation she needed that he was still sleeping with Meghan. They had never discussed monogamy, or even what they were calling this thing they were doing. And it was fine, because she didn’t know what she wanted the answer to be if they tried to define it. What she did know was that he was still the same man, and that he was not someone she could consider really being with. And it wasn’t as though he said anything to indicate that he wanted to be with her in that way either.
Which was totally fine.

She’d gotten what she asked for after all. They spent time together; lots of time. And he was still a really, really good friend. He never made her feel like he didn’t want to be with her and if he had dates with Meghan, he was discreet enough that she never detected it. And she was mostly incurious about that. Mostly.

There had only been the one time when he was up in the kitchen and she spotted his phone sitting on the entryway table as she headed for the bedroom to change into one of his t-shirts. On the way back, she stopped and picked it up, not really forming any clear intention at all about whether to look at it. The face lit up and she was surprised that it didn’t require a
passcode
to unlock it. Tracy’s finger slid, almost without her consent, down to the phone icon and before she thought about why, she tapped it once and began scrolling through the recent calls.

When you’re done looking for whatever you’re looking for in my phone
, Brendan’s voice called from above,
could you bring it to me? I need to return some email.

Tracy had almost dropped the damn thing in fright, and her face became hot with embarrassment. She took a moment to regain her composure and go back up to the kitchen, handing him the phone and
preparing for an angry—and completely justified—lecture about boundaries, trust and privacy. But all Brendan had done was take it from her with a mumbled,
thanks sweetheart
, followed by a playful grope of her butt. And when she sneaked a look at him out of the corner of her eyes, he indeed seemed to be returning email and by all appearances was not giving a second thought to her snooping.

She sighed now, fighting her frustration that she still hadn’t figured him out. Normally, she would have had the benefit of Riley’s thinking, but neither of them had told their friends what was going on. It hadn’t started as a secret, but once Cullen was born the fact that they were sleeping together, it seemed so irrelevant to anything Shawn and Riley were going through that they just didn’t mention it. And now that so much time had passed, it was going to be awkward to break the news.

Maybe at the house today
, Tracy thought as she looked through her closet.

In that kind of setting, she seriously doubted Brendan was going to be able to keep himself from touching her in a way that made it apparent they were
toge
. . . well, not
together
, but whatever. Not that he was the jealous type at all. When he touched her, it wasn’t about pos
session, but just about the fact
that he didn’t seem to be able to help himself.

Come to think of it, Brendan was disturbingly unaffected when other men looked at her. On one of their many trips to Dean & DeLuca last weekend some guy had been gawking directly and unashamedly at her ass, encased in tights, because she and Brendan had just come back from the gym. And instead of going ballistic, and becoming insanely possessive the way Shawn would have about Riley, Brendan only smirked. On the walk back to the apartment, she’d sulked until he finally asked her what was wrong, sounding more amused than concerned.

Why didn’t you just
give
me to him?
she
demanded.
He clearly wanted me and you clearly didn’t care.

Why
should
I care?
Brendan said.

Gee, thanks!

She stalked ahead of him, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Tears of anger, of course. Not of hurt,
anger
. Brendan hurried to catch her, which didn’t take him too much effort, and put down the grocery bags, hugging her tight.

Why should I care if some dude wants to look at your ass for a couple seconds too long?
he
said, speaking into her hair.
All I know is two things: one, if he ever tried to touch it I’d fuck him up. And two, I’m the one who gets to take that fine ass home and put it on my chin.

Tracy’s eyes had opened wide at the lewd reference to what he’d done to her just that very morning. But what he said did help her relax just a little. She’d relaxed even more when they got back to the apartment and after their shower, up against the bathroom
wall,
he showed her just how much he appreciated her “fine ass.”

Shaking her head, she refocused on the matter at hand, finding something to wear for the party for Cullen’s blessing. Brendan told her he secretly hated the name Shawn and Riley had chosen.

I love that name!
Tracy protested.

White name
, Brendan muttered.

Oh my god, Brendan, there is no such thing!
Tracy had gasped, tossing a wad of unused toilet paper at him.

He had walked in on her as she was peeing and begun to shave; something he did so often now she didn’t even notice or react to it anymore.

Okay, so what kind of name is Shanika?
he
challenged.

That’s different
, Tracy said wiping herself.

So there are Black names but no white names.

Well, the . . . the . . .
Tracy stood at the sink next to him and rinsed her hands.
The difference is . .
.

Thought so,
Brendan said nodding.
Like I said. White name. At least his middle name is Brendan. A strong, masculine, race-neutral name that any kid could be proud of.

Tracy had rolled her eyes and left him to finish shaving.

Okay, this was ridiculous. She needed to pi
ck an
outfit and stop thinking about Brendan. She’d only just left him about forty-five minutes ago for heaven’s sake. Then her landline was ringing and she ran to grab it. Probably checking to see she got home, okay. At least she wasn’t the only one who was . . .

“Hello,” she said, trying to sound bored.

“Tracy, I’ve been trying to reach you for several days now. I think it’s rather inconsiderate of you not to call me back given all that’s happening with you father.”

Tracy closed her eyes and cursed herself for not checking the caller id before picking up.

“Sorry, Mom. It’s been rather hectic at work.”

“They have you working weekends now?” her mother demanded. “Seems rather unreasonable.”

“How is Malcolm?” Tracy asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Your father is fine,” her mother responded, pointedly emphasizing the word ‘father’. “Fine under the circumstances at least.”

Three and a half months ago, her mother’s husband had suffered a massive stroke, leaving on side of his body all but immobilized. Tracy had flown out briefly to provide her support, but managed to leave after only a few days when her aunts had shown up. She’d pointed out to her mother that as a practical matter, they were better equipped to stick around and offer help because they were retired, and she on the other hand had to work. She promised upon leaving that she would fly home to Georgia at least every other weekend but had not been back since. Hence her avoidance of her mother’s calls.

“And Riley had her baby last month,” Tracy said, to further bolster her alibi. “Today was the blessing, and as the godmother, I had to, y’know, do . . . stuff.”

“Hmm.” Her mother sounded unimpressed. “How she stayed married to that rap performer after everything, I’ll never understand. And now to have a baby with him. I suppose she’s made her bed.”

Tracy swallowed hard. “Shawn is an amazing husband. And he’s going to be an amazing father.”

“Yes. Well. I’m more concerned about your father, Tracy. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve not been here. Just because he can’t speak doesn’t mean he can’t think. Or feel.”

“I know. It’s just been so crazy. I’ll make plans to come soon.”

“How soon, Tracy Ann?”

She hated when her mother used her first and middle names like that. Tracy could just see her face when she said them; her thin lips pinched, her powdered face drawn into a frown. Her mother frowned quite a bit, and whenever Tracy thought of her, it was with a look of disapproval, bordering on distaste marring her otherwise handsome and attractive features. Occasionally, to her horror, Tracy would walk past a mirror and see a trace of her mother’s angry, disapproving face looking back at her.

“I’ll find a date and make a reservation next week. I’ll call you when I know what it is,” Tracy said.

“Good. And please don’t make me hunt for you again, Tracy. It worries me. And I have enough worries as it is.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.