Untimely You (21 page)

“There’s so much I want—
I need
to say to you, Nees,” I tell her, frustration lacing my voice. “But I don’t know how to put it into words. I just need you to feel what I’m feeling.” My fingers skim down along her throat to her nipple through her shirt. I lightly trace circles around the hardened point until her breaths come out in quick, needy succession. Now, my dick is rock hard.

“Can I show you?” I murmur and kiss her again. “Will you let me love your body like you deserve?”

Her
yes
is but a whisper, and yet, it’s enough. With a sigh of relief, I help her out of her T-shirt and then toss it away. My fingers skim down between her bare breasts and she gasps. I need to taste every inch of her. Desperately.

“Your tits are perfect,” I praise and then drag my tongue around her nipple. When I bite her sensitive flesh, she cries out. “You missed me too.”

“Sort of,” she says, her words a breathless mumble.

I smile against her skin. Another nip at her breast and she squirms beneath me.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she complains. Neesy’s cute when she’s all grumbly and pouty.

“I didn’t drive you there. You set up camp there a long time ago,” I tease and bite her again.

She grabs a handful of my hair and yanks me from her breast. “Fuck me already, Adrian. You’ve kept me waiting too long.”

Guilt starts to darken my mood but she begins yanking at my shirt, distracting me. I peel it the rest of the way off and her fingers skitter along my chest.

“You feel more firm,” she says, her voice almost a sexual whine. “How is your stomach even harder than last time?”

I don’t tell her that I’ve spent hours and hours in my gym lifting weights since Chrissy’s funeral a week ago. Or that I’ve sped through countless miles on my treadmill until I’ve been dizzy and completely dehydrated. Working out is one of my coping mechanisms. And for days and days I’ve been struggling to cope.

“I’ll show you hard,” I say with a growl as I yank her panties down her thighs.

She kicks them away and spreads herself for me as I shove my boxers down. I find her slick opening and then I’m driving deep into her tight heat. Her body grips my dick in such a way, I nearly explode after one thrust. With a groan, I still inside of her so I don’t make a fucking fool of myself.

“I like being right here,” I murmur against her lips, gently bucking into her.

She whimpers and digs her heels into my ass. “Don’t ever leave then.”

Once again, the guilt overwhelms me like a black cloud. The things I did to Chrissy are at the forefront of my mind and I struggle to keep my hard-on. And then I feel like a dick for thinking of Chrissy while my balls are smashed against the crack of Neesy’s ass. What kind of twisted fuck am I?

“Hey,” she purrs, “Wacko. Stay with me.”

I smirk and kiss her plump lips. It’s enough to get my head back to our present activities. Unable to stay still any longer, I begin slamming into her. The need to be completely inside of her is more important than breathing or any-fucking-thing else. Her fingernails claw at my biceps as I fuck her until she’s moaning my name. She climaxes first and after several seconds of pounding into her, I am pouring my hot seed into her receptive body.

Sliding my arms beneath her, I hug her to me. “In the morning, do you have any meetings?”

“No. It’s my last day before I head back home.”

“Good,” I tell her with a grin. “I’m going to do something I should have done the first day I met you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to take you on a date.”

Slowly but surely, whatever cloud was hovering over Neesy is beginning to dissipate. She’s once again the sunshiny woman I first met as she rambles about her publishing house. Tells me about her friend Shawna. Pines over her father and bitches about her evil stepmother. Her voice is sweet like honey as she babbles about anything and everything.

She’s every bit of the woman I know and love as she stumbles over her own two feet. Tries to give money to every bum in New York City. And owns another piece of my broken heart with every smile she rewards me with.

“Oooh, let’s get dessert,” she says with a grin as she tugs my hand.

I shake my head as we cross the busy street to a restaurant that boasts of being a chocolate bar. “We just had dinner. How are you hungry again?”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “YOLO, Wacko. YOLO.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” I grumble.

Her giggles fill the nighttime air and I almost forget all that’s happened over the last twelve years. I almost feel normal. On a fun, all-day date, with a sexy-as-fuck woman whom I love.

“My God,” she
tsks
as she stares at the menu taped to the glass outside of the restaurant. “You really are a geezer.”

Rolling my eyes, I wrap my arms around her middle and look at the menu. “I’m not a geezer.”

“Mmm hhhmmm.” Then she points a slender finger at the menu. I want to bite her finger. “Look! They have New York cheesecake.” A squeal. “With chocolate fondue!”

I can’t help but smile at her. She turns in my arms and stands on her toes so she can reach my lips.

“Please,
Daddy,
” she purrs in a suggestive way that gets my cock hard. “Can we have dessert?”

Sliding my palms to her ass, I squeeze her hard and pull her to me. She gasps once she realizes I’m as fucking hard as the concrete we’re standing on.

“Want to know the best part of this date today?” I question with a growl.

She bites on her bottom lip, her cheeks turning slightly pink, and shakes her head. “Dessert? Or maybe the mind-blowing sex we’ll have after dessert?”

I release her ass and slowly trail my fingertips up her spine. “Those are close seconds.”

Hugging her to me, I then kiss the top of her head. “You, Crazy. The best part of this date is you.”

“Stop giving them money,” I grumble as Neesy fumbles around in her purse.

She curls up her lip. “Shut up and give me some money.”

With a sigh, I pull out my wallet and hand her a twenty. I watch with amusement as she hands a homeless man the cash and the extra piece of cheesecake she just had to have to-go. His pale blue eyes find hers, and he gives her a toothy smile.

“You’re an angel.”

My heart ceases to beat in my chest and I swallow down my emotion. She is an angel. Stumbled right into my life and shone light when I was in my darkest place. And ever since, she’s been lighting the way—guiding me toward happiness.

Chrissy was your angel too.

Once again, the guilt crushes me. My wife died not long ago, and I’m off gallivanting with my mistress in New York. We’re laughing and having a grand ‘ol fucking time.

My wife just
died
.

Just
died
.

Died
.

God, I’m a prick.

“Come on,” I grunt and take her hand.

Dragging her back along the sidewalk, I keep my eyes peeled for a cab. Eventually, after several blocks of my silence, she puts on the brakes.

“Stop.”

With a huff, I turn to regard her. Gone is her beautiful smile. Flickering is her light. I want to throttle myself.

“What?” I snap. She flinches and I immediately berate myself for being rude. “What’s wrong?” At least, this time, I manage softness.

Her eyes drop to the pavement and her bottom lip quivers. “I need to—I need to tell you—”

“TAXI!” I yell, interrupting her, and wave at the yellow vehicle as it flies toward us. It screeches to a halt and I help her inside. Once the driver is headed back toward the hotel, I turn to regard her. Her hands are neatly folded in her lap and she is staring out the window, watching the lights dance by.

We remain quiet the rest of the ride. Both of us are lost in our thoughts. I want to rewind back to the chocolate bar. When she let me feed her chocolate covered cheesecake and licked the remnants from my fingers. When her laughter caused onlookers to glance over at us wondering what could possibly be so funny. When we held hands across the table and held each other’s gaze. When things were light and simple.

Now they seem darker.

And fucking difficult.

“I’m going to run into the gift shop. My flight leaves early tomorrow and I still haven’t picked up anything for Shawna. You can wait here.” Her words weren’t a suggestion, they were a command. I can tell she’s upset with me and would like a minute to herself.

Ten minutes in fact.

When she comes back carrying a sack, her gaze is on the floor again. The ride on the elevator to her floor is silent. She lets me take her hand but doesn’t squeeze back. I keep fucking this up.

As soon as we’re inside, I attempt to fix things. “Nees, I’m sorry. I am still struggling with everything, okay?”

She nods as she kicks her shoes away. “I’m
still
here.”

Sighing, I follow her over to the bed. She sets the bag down and then sits beside it.

“We’ll get through this. Just be patient with me,” I beg.

She cracks a smile. “I’m. Still. Here.”

“What’d you get your friend?” I question, hoping to drive the conversation into a safer land.

Her smile lights up the room. Before she can speak, I slide my palm along her cheek and kiss her supple lips. When I finally break free from her sweet mouth, the mood around us has shifted once again. The tension in my shoulders loosens. I’m once again connected to her, and I fucking love it.

“I love you, Neesy,” I tell her. My bluntness makes her hazel eyes twinkle.

“I love you too, Adrian.”

“Now show me what’s in the bag.”

She laughs. “Well, it was seventy-five percent off since it’s after Christmas. But, Shawna, she’s obsessed with snow globes. I saw it and knew she’d love it.” With an eagerness that’s typical of Neesy, she pulls the box from the bag.

“It’s beautiful. The last one they had too. Let’s hope I can make it home without breaking it,” she teases, and we both laugh.

But when she pulls it from the box, my laughter dies. Just like my wife did. I’m not at all amused. In fact, I’m infuriated.

I want to snatch the goddamned snow globe from her hands. The Nutcracker. The fucking Nutcracker. Etched in a gold plaque across the bottom, it says, “The Snow Dance.” A damn Clara ballerina and nutcracker turned prince are standing in the middle of a forest. Little pieces of snow flit around them. They’re smiling. And it’s all their fault.

She’d still be alive. Like Neesy. Fire in her blue eyes. Mischief in her smile. The scent of chocolate chip cookies always lingering in her hair from baking for Damien. But the fucking ballet and the snow and Clara and the prince all stole her from me that night.

The snow globe mocks me. Reminds me of my loss. A red haze of rage surges through me. Blinds me. I snatch it from her grip. With a furious roar, I throw it. I throw the fucking thing as hard as I can.

It all happens in slow motion.

The shatter of the globe against the hotel room wall.

A shriek of surprise from Neesy. And then her tears.

“Get out.”

Her words knife through my anger and cut me. They find their way back to my heart that still beats for her
and
my wife and the entire confusing mess I’m in.

“Adrian,” she says in a calm, but clearly heartbroken tone, “get out.”

I try to reach for her, but she’s already stalking
away
and
away
and
away
from me. The bathroom door slams and I’m alone.

Get out.

And so I do.