“Date?” Rob questions, not really looking for an answer. He turns around and busies himself with the car.
Standing there, I look out to the driveway finding all of our friends’ cars along with the guy who will steal her from my grasp if I don’t do something. The torment of letting her live the dream life she’s always wanted: the caring husband with three kids in a nice neighborhood and good schools; never a care for money or want for anything; a guy who can allow her to forget her past and her upbringing, instead of the constant reminder I would be for her.
“Will you fucking just go?” Rob nudges me forward like the good friend he’s shockingly been this whole time.
“I’m not sure I can.” My feet remain planted on the cement. When Ryland doesn’t return to his car a minute later, my fists clench with the thought that his lips are on her beautiful mouth. That he’s requesting access to her, and she’s allowing him in.
“When did you become such a pussy?” Rob asks me, lighting a cigarette. I watch the slow stream of smoke flow out of his mouth, wondering the same thing. “You’re just going to sit here and let that douchebag,” he tilts his head to a smug Ryland pulling out of the driveway, “take what’s yours?”
“She’s not mine,” I say, and he shrugs.
“She sure as shit isn’t his. How’s the saving the friendship thing going for you?” he asks, and the answer would be shitty, crappy, and lately non-existent.
Rubbing my head with my hand, I drag it down my face with the hope some sense surfaces in the next few minutes because my feet are already gearing up. I’m losing the battle within myself to stay away.
“She deserves so much better,” I finally admit to someone other than myself. “I can’t make sure she gets that life when her happiness is dependent on me.”
“You’re getting a little deep now, don’t you think? Do you love her?” he asks, tossing his cigarette down and smashing it with his boot. When I shrug, he asks again. “Do you love her, Hulk?”
“Yeah.” A huge relief emerges with the admission.
“Do you want other girls?” My head bolts up, barely able to swallow the thought because I haven’t even been with anyone since she came into town.
My face must amuse Rob, because he roars with laughter. “Sam?” he clarifies.
“No, you know that was casual, and it was over the minute Chrissy reappeared.” I shake my head, not only for Rob but also because I was so stupid to ever bring Sam back to the house that night.
“Took you long enough to realize it though.” He cranks the wrench while throwing a proverbial dart right at my chest.
“I don’t want to hurt her.” I plop down on the lawn chair next to the cooler, revealing my biggest obstacle in this whole mess, to my only friend who hasn’t found the girl of his dreams.
“Aren’t you just hurting both of you right now?” he says, lifting his head up to glue me with his eyes. I can’t believe Rob, of all people, just singed my feelings together.
“Maybe now, but it will be better in the long run,” I counter again, standing up while he shakes his head in annoyance. Walking over to the edge of the garage, I hang my arms from the top and stare over to the house.
“You are driving me fucking bat-shit crazy. Get your ass up to that room and nail the woman you love.” He points to the house. “Seriously, Dex, get the fuck out of here,” he demands, and I laugh, but Rob doesn’t.
Waving my hand above my head, my feet jog to the back door. Passing Sadie and Brady in the kitchen, I continue to my goal. My heart races with every footstep on the stairs, and when I throw open the door and find her lying on the bed, everything rights in my head.
She props up on her elbows, peering over at me, layers of make-up covering up her beautiful face. Not being able to look at her like that, as though that’s the version of Chrissy for Ryland Davis, I walk over and tug her hand. Yanking her to her feet, her hands steady on my chest, shock on her face. My fingers immediately find the button of her jeans.
“Dex,” she sighs, but doesn’t back away, even with the hesitation in her eyes.
“Please,” I beg, and she appears satisfied with that, allowing me to disrobe her. My fingers grip the edge of her shirt and pull it over her head, satisfyingly messing the overdone curls in the process. Another fakeness for Ryland, she doesn’t need all this, she’s beautiful the way she is. Unzipping her pants, I bend down on my knees and pull them from her perfect hips down her sleek legs, waiting for her step out of them. God, she’s so gorgeous and I could stab myself for not doing this sooner. My hands travel on either side of her legs, over her ass and I smile when I feel goosebumps on her skin from my touch. Pushing my fingers under the lacy edge of her panties, I mold her ass cheeks in my hand, not wanting to pull away. Then I turn my hands to grab the fabric and wrench them down, disposing her of them and almost lose my breath from admiring her there, half-naked in front of me. All of those visions, all of those dreams, and I have to take a moment to realize it’s real— this is real. My heart rate steadily climbs with the thoughts that Chrissy will be mine tonight.
It takes all my willpower to deny myself the opportunity to rain kisses up her stomach while I rise to my feet. She shivers when my fingertips brush her shoulders, down her arms, bringing the straps of her bra down with them. I stare into her eyes as she helps me by sliding her arms out and the swell of her breasts overfill her matching satin and lace bra. Pulling her close, our chests touch and the mere brush of our skins meeting almost breaks that wall of willpower down. Reaching behind her, my fingers shake as I unhook her bra, revealing her naked body for my viewing. I’m barely able to hold my shit together, because my mind is screaming to throw her on this bed and take her now. But she needs more from me, deserves more from me.
“Your turn,” she quietly says, not knowing what I have in mind. I yank my shirt off, unable to wait much longer before I can feel her body under me. Her fingers tremble as they unbutton my jeans. The hold out straining, my hand splays on her back, and I push her body against mine. Her peaked nipples creating tantalizing shivers across my chest. Unzipping my pants, they fall to the floor, and I take over, pushing my boxers to the pile of clothes. Grabbing her ass, I thrust her into my arms, allowing her to wrap her legs around my waist. I kick off my shoes, stepping out of my pants and boxers and walk us into the shower. Her hands cradle my cheeks and, as we get to the bathroom door, she raises them up my face, and pushes my hat off of my head.
I turn the water on and step in, keeping her against the opposite wall until the water warms. I refuse to give in to my impulses and kiss her. When the warm water streams across my back, I carry us into the cascading showers, allowing the pellets to rain down on our entwined bodies. Grabbing her washcloth, I let her go, and her feet find the slippery shower floor. Not being able to stare at this faux Chrissy any longer, I take ahold of the washcloth. “This isn’t the Chrissy I love.” I drag the washcloth down her cheek, slowly wiping off her makeup. Streaks of black, red, brown, and pink combine with the water to run down her face and body, leaving residue of false beauty on the washcloth, beauty she doesn’t need. She stands there, allowing me to free her of the cosmetic shell surrounding her, revealing the beautiful pearl she is. Once I have every trace gone, I toss the washcloth in the corner and caress my hands across her face and up over her hair. With my hand resting on her neck, I intently gaze into her eyes. “This is the Chrissy I love,” I proclaim.
Tears build up in her eyes, and she peers up at me in disbelief. “Dex,” she whispers.
Placing my finger to her lips, I quiet her. “I’m sorry, Chrissy. I shouldn’t have denied us this.” I beg her forgiveness, and my heart shatters watching tears escape her eyes. I’ve put her through so much crap, I try to excuse my behavior. “I was so worried about keeping our friendship intact, to be there for you in any capacity, I couldn’t see that I was just hurting both of us. That regardless, I’m your family and you’re mine.” She says nothing, staring at me and then eyes the ground. Panic quickly rises in me that I ruined this. That she won’t accept my apology and I’m too late to claim what’s supposed to be mine. “Please, say something.”