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She didn’t normally hook up with strange men in seedy bar bathrooms, but she was feeling particularly self-destructive tonight. And maybe she was a little drunk, but if she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was his hands on her body. His tongue claiming her mouth. His voice whispering dirty things in her ear as he claimed other parts of her. Low, a little rough.
I don’t think of you in that way.
It was a goddamn lie, because she hadn’t been imagining the way he looked at her, always finding her across a room, always with a smile that felt like a secret, something made just for the two of them. She hadn’t been imagining the way they connected through conversation; he was the only person she wanted to talk to in those crowded rooms, amidst carefully painted faces, everyone with an agenda. And he sought her out. Every time. She hadn’t imagined the tension between them when she’d pulled back from that hug, his dark eyes darting down to her lips, something decidedly more than friendly in them as his arm had tightened around her waist.
Maybe she had been imagining it. Maybe not.
The voice murmuring sin against her neck was all wrong, none of the sweetness he would manage even as he said things that would make her blush. And when he kissed her, he tasted of cheap beer, not whiskey, and she hated whiskey, but she would love it from his tongue.
His lips had brushed hers before he’d pulled back, something like guilt in his eyes.
I don’t think of you in that way, Cel.
A hand moved to her thigh, pushed beneath the hem of her dress, pale blue, tailored, tweed and far too fancy for the likes of this place, but then she’d not dressed for debauchery but a political fundraiser. Her mother was seeking re-election, and that meant the next few years of her life would include many such events. She’d almost been okay with it, because of him, but now…
Fingers pushed past her panties and her head hit the stall door behind her when they slid inside her, wet because she’d been imagining someone else. The hair her fingers tangled in was too straight and not as soft as she’d always thought it would be. And the fingers that stroked her weren’t as deft as she knew his would be, because he definitely had nice hands, and she had no doubt he knew what to do with them, and maybe she’d thought of a moment like this once or twice when they’d sipped white wine and smiled politely for Lindon’s elite.
Her leg hitched over his hip, it came as a bit of a shock when her back hit the stall, his hips pinning hers, fingers giving way to something a little thicker, and she let him fuck her while she imagined someone else. God, he would be relentless in finding all the ways that made her moan and he would work her until she was a mess for him, fluttering around his cock and— “Fuck, Ereinion.”
He didn’t even seem bothered that another man’s name had slipped from her lips—she didn’t know if she’d even asked for his, but she wouldn’t have remembered it anyway. His pace was too fast to be particularly enjoyable, but it was enough to scratch the itch. And if it wasn’t, well, there was always tequila.
He came with little warning, not even bothering to make sure she’d finished, not even asking her if she was close, and if that wasn’t the cherry on top of an already incredibly disappointing evening. Tequila it was.
She cleaned herself up, wiping at the lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth. Her hair was a wreck, a far cry from the neat chignon it had been tucked into earlier this evening, strands hanging loosely around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, from the heat in this place, and from what she’d been doing here.
He left without so much as a word, probably for the best, since she really didn’t want to pretend anymore tonight, and she had no interest in seeing him again, whatever the hell his name was. Because he hadn’t even made her come. Because he wasn’t a tall, dark-haired campaign advisor who told her stories about riding camels in Morocco or trekking through the Andes and smiled like he was the sun itself. He wasn’t charming and smart and funny and just so damn likable, but in an entirely genuine way—a rarity at events like those she frequented for the sake of her mother’s campaign.
I don’t think of you in that way.
She’d never felt more like a child than when he’d pulled back from her, those words heavy between them. A rejection. It had never felt like it mattered to him before, that she was so much younger than him, but she was a child standing before him in that moment, one with a ridiculous and unrequited crush. Jesus, she’d made a fool of herself, but she had been so sure that he wanted her too, that she wasn’t imagining the spark between them.
She had every intention of dancing and drinking until she forgot about him entirely and when she got back to the bar, she drank with the tall blond who looked like a J. Crew model because her body was desperate for an orgasm and he looked like he could do the job suitably. She danced with him for a while, between shots of tequila, until the room was spinning and when she sat in the booth in the corner, she didn’t know if she was on his lap or he was on top of her, but she felt heavy and hot and…
“What the hell are you doing?”
That voice sent a wave of heat through her, and though her eyes struggled to focus, she could see that he was angry.
What right did he have to be angry? Why was he even here?
“I’m here because I got a very concerning string of texts in which it seemed you gradually lost control of English syntax and any manner of lucidity.”
She didn’t think she’d meant to say that out loud. And she definitely did not mean to text him.
“Don’t be such a snob.”
“Hazard of being born with a silver spoon in my mouth, as I’m sure you’re familiar.” His fingers wrapped around her arm and he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you out of here, Cel.”
“Don’t call me that.” It was more a whine than anything else, because it seemed she was more susceptible to him in her very inebriated state than usual, even if he’d made his feelings clear.
“Celebrían.”
That was worse, his eyes dark, his tone commanding. She just knew he’d be bossy and she’d do anything he said, if he said it in that voice, if he looked at her like he did now.
No, that was drunken, wishful thinking, because all she’d done was embarrass herself more than she already had.
He settled her tab at the bar, collecting her shoes which she didn’t remember taking off and guided her out of the loud, smoke-filled hellhole.
“I’m good,” she said, the cold air sharpening her drink-addled mind a touch. “I can get an uber, you don’t have to—”
“I’m not leaving you here alone when you can barely stand up straight.”
“Why do you care?” Anger rose in her throat. Or was that nausea? “You don’t want me.”
“Jesus, Celebrían.” He ran a hand through his hair, a little less perfect than it had been earlier in the evening. “I really don’t want to have this conversation when you’re drunk. I didn’t….” He took a step closer. “Did you really think—?”
“Yes, Ereinion. I really thought. You couldn’t have been more clear.”
“Cel.”
“You mean what you say. I’ve always known that about you.” She swallowed back a wave of nausea. “I love that about you.”
“Cel.”
“I want to go home, Ereinion.” She wrapped her arms around herself, her head pounding. “It’s been a really shitty night and I just—I want to go home.”
“I’ll take you. Make sure you get home safe. Come on.”
She was too tired to argue with him, and even embarrassed as she was, there was no one she trusted more, so she followed him to his car parked down the block. He opened the door for her and she stumbled barefoot into the passenger seat, the leather cold against her thighs as the glass was against her forehead when she slumped against the window.
“Where am I going, Cel?” He asked after a few long moments of silence. She blinked sleep away. Its call was strong, as was her growing nausea, made worse by the motion of the car.
“Harlindon Circle.”
He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “figures,” which was rich coming from him, since he surely lived in Capitol Heights.
She blinked and they were in front of her condo. Maybe she had fallen asleep that time. Her head still felt so heavy and she was certain she would never stop being tired.
He opened the door before she realized he’d even unbuckled his seatbelt and she fumbled with hers.
“I don’t need you to walk me to the door, you know.”
Something like amusement tugged at his lips. “I’m not sure you can make it up the stairs in your condition.”
There were only four steps and it wasn’t fair of him to make fun of her condition when he was entirely to blame for it.
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not.”
It rang a bit hollow when he reached for the buckle of her seatbelt, pushing the button her thumbs couldn’t quite manage.
“I’m not a child.”
His fingers were warm against her shoulder as he pulled the seatbelt back. “I know.”
Did he?
“Ereinion—” Before she could formulate a response, a wave of tequila and bile sprang forth, washing over his loafers.
As if she hadn’t embarrassed herself enough. She was never going to be able to look at him again, and this was far from the last time she’d have to see him.
He wiped her mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, pushing her hair back from her face. So gentle with her, like she hadn’t just thrown up all over his feet. “Let’s get you inside, Cel.”
Hands finding her waist, he picked her up, careful to set her down away from the pile of shame and regret that was certain to repeat itself if she didn’t get inside and get something in her system other than liquor. She leaned against his side, his weight and the arm slung around her waist the only thing holding her up. Digging around in her clutch for her keys, she lost her balance, falling into him. He was so annoyingly tall, especially with her heels lying on the floorboard of his car. She had no desire to go fetch them, deciding they were a lost cause, because how was she ever going to talk to him after tonight? Her shoes for the shoes she had ruined. Seemed fair.
“Your keys?”
It was only then that she remembered what she was doing, noticed that she was slumped against his chest, looking up at him, those dark eyes as heavy on her as his arm felt around her waist. So like before when—
I don’t think of you in that way, Cel.”
“Cel?”
Right. She fumbled with the lock, finally fitting the key in and opening the door, just in time for a wave of nausea to hit. She took off for the bathroom, leaving him in her entryway.
Dropping to her knees on the cold marble tile, she let loose another wave of sickness, her mouth tasting foul, her head feeling like it was filled with sand. Just as it was about to fall forward, a hand gathered her hair at the back of her neck, holding it back as she retched once more. She could feel the warmth of him, a hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. She fell into him again, just for a moment, flushing away regret and bad decisions when her stomach settled, at least for the moment.
He helped her stand, and she grappled for her toothbrush, desperate to get the taste of tequila and bile out of her mouth.
While she brushed her teeth, he rifled around in her medicine cabinet, setting a bottle of ibuprofen down on the counter. She might have teased him for just making himself at home, but he was helping her, so she let it go, rinsing her mouth, the taste of mint greatly preferably to vomit and liquor. She took four with some water from the tap, a preemptive measure for the wicked hangover she was certain to have in the morning.
“You should eat something.”
She trudged to her bedroom, working the zipper of her dress as she went. He stayed out in the hallway when it fell to the floor and she dug through her dresser for something more comfortable. Settling for an oversized sweatshirt, she let herself drown in it, comforted by its softness. When she shuffled toward the kitchen, it was only after he cleared his throat that she realized she hadn’t put pants on, but her sweatshirt fell over her thighs and he didn’t think of her in that way, anyway. And maybe she drunkenly wanted to spite him for humiliating her earlier.
Nothing but empty shelves in front of her when she opened the refrigerator, she groaned. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for the top of the fridge hoping there was a bagel left from her trip to Lindir’s a couple days ago. She didn’t even care if it was stale. Her fingers grasped at the edge of the bag, but she couldn’t quite get it and she nearly lost her balance before he set a hand on her waist, steadying her.
“Need help?”
What she needed was for his arm to wrap around her and pull her close and whisper something dirty in her ear. Hell, he could describe the campaign platform he’d created for her mother and she would probably melt in his arms.
“I can reach it.” It sounded pathetic even to her, and he barely had to stretch to get it, fingers brushing hers on the way back down.
When she turned around, he was close, towering over her in that stupid way of his and god, she just wanted to climb him like a tree and…
She snatched the bag from his hand, hoping that maybe if she devoured a mess of carbs she’d be less likely to want to devour him. Because he didn’t want her. He said he didn’t want her, and yet he stood close enough to touch.
The bagel was stale as she took a bite of it, but that was the furthest thing from her mind, watching him watch her eat. When she looked away, she noticed light blue socks that matched his tie, because he’d kicked off his shoes by the door, apparently. There was something strange about him standing in her house with his pale blue socks in front of her refrigerator.
She took a few more bites of her bagel, trying to distract herself from the fact that he was in her home, that he was being annoyingly considerate after all but breaking her heart earlier this evening.
She yawned, reaching around his side to set the half-eaten bagel on the counter behind him.
“Time for bed, I think.”
“You gonna tuck me in?”
It would be the finishing touch on a shitty night, the nail in the coffin of her hopes that he saw her as anything but a child.
He didn’t seem amused, probably because he knew what she was thinking. He always seemed to know what she was thinking. She’d liked that, before. But now…it just reminded her that for all that she felt connected to him, he didn’t want her.
“Celebrían.”
“I’m sure you remember the way to the door.”
She ducked under his arm and shuffled toward her bedroom, wanting nothing more than to hide beneath the covers until her embarrassment faded. She suspected it would last longer than the cover of night. Comforter pulled over her head, she heard the floor creaking beside her bed. “I didn’t mean my bedroom door.”
She felt his weight on the edge of her bed and she peeked her head out from beneath the blanket. “What are you doing?”
“Turn on your side.”
Something fluttered low in her belly at the command in his voice.
“Why?”
He sighed. “Because I’d really rather you don’t choke and die if you throw up in the middle of the night.”
She pouted, because that was not nearly as fun a reason as the one she’d been imagining, an arm snaked over her hip and his body hard behind her. “I guess you’ll have to supervise until I fall asleep.”
“Fine.”
Fine.
“Might as well make yourself comfortable.” He’d already taken off his shoes, but his jacket was gone now too, his sleeves rolled up. It was the most undone she’d ever seen him.
She hiccuped and her whole body hurt. “Remind me never to drink that much tequila again.”
He was quiet for a moment, reclined beside her on top of the comforter, but then he said, “why did you?”
How could he not know? Or was he just being purposefully obtuse?
“Because.”
She really wasn’t doing much to convince him that she wasn’t childish like he thought.
“You drank your weight in tequila because…?”
“Because that asshole in the bathroom didn’t even make me come.” His jaw ticked and she thought he might burn a hole in her ceiling for the intensity of his gaze, very pointedly not at her. “I only fucked him because I wanted to get you out of my head, but it didn’t work, so doubly frustrated, I drowned my sorrows.” She hiccuped, taking a sip from the glass of water beside her bed. “That sounds like an old folk song, but you know what I mean.”
Propping her head on her hand, she turned toward him. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
She saw his throat bob. “Do what?”
“Leave me wanting.”
She heard him curse beneath his breath. “Celebrían.”
“You would make me feel good.” Yawning again, she let her eyelids flutter shut. “You always make me feel good. Except tonight.”
“Cel—”
“Why did you do that?” Her eyes felt heavy as she blinked them open. “I thought that—”
“Can we have this conversation in the morning?”
“I want to have it now.”
He looked at her then, his eyes so dark, nothing but the lamp on her bedside table offering any light. “You’re drunk.”
“And…?”
He sighed again, and that was really starting to make her feel like a burden. “You should sleep.”
“I don’t want to.” Now she was just being petulant, but he deserved it.
“Celebrían—”
She shifted closer, her head falling on the pillow beside his, so close she could hear his breath catch. “You don’t think of me in that way?” The back of her hand pressed against the buttons at his chest. “Your heart is pounding, Ereinion.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me you want me.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Not too drunk that I don’t know what I want,” she insisted. “The same thing I wanted outside coat check tonight. The same thing I wanted when I dragged some idiot with dark eyes into a stall in the men’s bathroom at the bar.” She could see flecks of gold in his eyes this close and they were molten. “The same thing I want now and all the time. You. I want you.” And since she was being honest, she might as well tell him everything she was thinking. A consequence of the liquor, rather than sound decision making, but he was too close for her to care, those eyes melting her down to nothing as they remained fixed on hers. “When he kissed me, I was thinking about you.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, set in a straight line. “How your lips would feel against mine.” The ones that always offered a kind smile or a knowing smirk, the ones he fought to keep unresponsive. “And when he touched me, I was wishing it was your hands on my body.”
His nostrils flared, a muscle feathering in his jaw.
“I wanted your fingers inside me, your cock—”
“Jesus Christ, Celebrían.” He ran a hand over his face, dragging his lip with it.
“What?”
“I am trying to do the right thing here. To be decent.” The words were muffled, that hand working over his jaw.
“I don’t want you to be decent.” She shifted a little closer. “I want you to be very indecent. With me.”
“Cel.”
“Tell me this doesn’t feel right.”
Conflict played out on his face when he turned toward her. “I’m not convinced you’ll even remember this conversation come the morning.”
She let her hand move to his face and he didn’t pull away from her touch the way he had before. He just looked at her. Seconds, moments passed, just like that, her thumb brushing over his cheek. Inching closer, her knee nudging his leg, she said, “then we can have it again in the morning.”
“Cel.”
“Tell me you don’t want me, Ereinion.”
It had hurt enough to hear it once; she didn’t know why she was begging him to tell her again. Maybe because she was holding out hope that he hadn’t meant it. It would have been the first lie he told her. She hoped it would be the last.
“I won’t lie to you again.” Her breath faltered and stopped altogether when he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, his kiss lingering. “But I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk on tequila and you taste like someone else.”
“So you are going to fuck me?”
He mumbled something about selective hearing, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as pulled away. “Not tonight.”
It was a no, but it wasn’t.
“Get some sleep, Cel.”
It was hard to think about sleep with him so close and her body still demanding satisfaction after having been hung out to dry earlier by that stranger from the bar. The look he gave her brooked no argument and as her eyelids got heavier, she thought of all the ways he might boss her around, the way his fingers would dig into her hips as he dragged her back to him. Or maybe he did, because she was warm and the slight spice of his cologne, tempered with smoke tickled her nostrils as her breathing steadied.
***
“Ereinion.”
He startled awake at the sound of his name. The night before came back to him; he was in her bed. His arm was curled around her waist, and she was still asleep. Whining his name. Her hips shifted, brushing against him and good lord, even unconscious she was tempting him.
“Fuck, Ereinion.”
Her ass moved against him in a way that had him biting his lip to resist the urge to dig his fingers into her hips and see how she would feel writhing against him in earnest. To see what sounds she would make, how his name would sound falling breathily from her lips when she begged him.
He didn’t think of her in that way?
Had he ever told a more outrageous lie?
It wasn’t all he thought about, but she very nearly was. So yes, he wanted her. Like this and every other possible way.
“Just like that, baby.” Her moan echoed through him, or maybe that was one of his own when she moved again, because she just felt like she belonged, fitted to his body like this, and she was dreaming about him, and…
Before he could think better of it, his fingers curled into her hip and he pulled her back into his chest. His lips brushed her ear and he knew she was awake when she croaked out, “Ereinion?”
His palm slid over her leg, fingers toying with the top of her thigh. “Good dreams?”
He could feel the heat rising in her cheek, but still, she shifted sleepily against him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
It seemed she was less bold now that her blood wasn’t comprised entirely of tequila, but if her dreams were any indication, she wanted him no less. And he certainly wanted her.
His fingers danced across the top of her thigh, tracing over the lace of her panties as they moved inward. She hadn’t bothered to dress herself fully last night, putting on only a large sweatshirt which had been pushed up to her hips while she’d slept. She felt good beneath his fingers, in his arms. He’d known she would, but he’d told himself it was never going to happen. Now that it was…
“How did I touch you in your dreams, Cel?” A finger pushed beneath the band of lace, teasing. Waiting. The heat in her cheek only grew beneath his lips before they trailed up her neck, nipped at her ear.
“Ereinion.”
“Do you want me to touch you, Celebrían?”
She was awake now. Not drunk. She knew what she wanted. And if she wanted him, he wouldn’t deny her. Wouldn’t deny himself.
He felt her head move. In a nod, probably, but he needed to be sure.
“I need to hear you say it, Cel.”
“Please.” Her hand settled on top of his, so small in comparison, and she guided him lower. “I need you to touch me.”
He stroked slowly with his middle finger, just the whisper of a touch, but it was enough to have her whining, moving against him with anticipation. “Like this?”
“Fuck,” she moaned when he pressed down with a bit more intent, teasing still. “Yes. Just like that.”
He let his finger slide down for a moment, gathering some of the slickness from her seam and bringing it back to her clit. “Already wet for me?” He only teased her because she was so damn responsive, and maybe he just wanted to hear it again, how much she wanted him.
“I always am,” she mumbled into the sheets, melting back into him as he touched her.
He thought of all the times she’d looked at him from across a fancily set table with that cute little smile of hers, all the times he’d wanted to take her by the hand into a dark corner in some old hotel or convention center and kiss her until she forgot her own name and he forgot that he shouldn’t be kissing her because of her name, and…
He had his fingers between her legs and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
He would.
Surely she knew he’d lied now. That he wanted her.
He would kiss her sweetly after she came with his name spilling from her lips, because she was right—he wouldn’t leave her wanting.
His lips found her neck, moving hotly over her skin, a finger circling steadily in the way she liked. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” She whimpered when his teeth skimmed her neck, a finger teasing at her entrance. “How many nights in my bed I’ve wished to have you beside me like this?” He let his finger push in to the first knuckle. “How many mornings when I wanted you to be the first thing I saw, the first thing I tasted?” A moan fell from her lips, her leg moving over his when his finger pushed an inch deeper. “Cel, I never stop thinking about you like this.” He kissed the hollow of her neck. “I never stop wanting you.” He knew it was the truth when he said, “I don’t think I ever will,” because how could he ever get enough of this? Of her?
When she whined his name, he buried his finger to the hilt, his cock twitching when she clenched around him. He was desperate to bury himself in her perfect little cunt, but he wanted to look at her when he did, to see her pretty lips part in a gasp and those silver eyes turn molten, sparkling as he moved in her.
He listened, paid attention to the way her spine arched, figuring out exactly how she liked to be touched, because this was about her, making her feel good. Letting her know in no uncertain terms that he wanted her. That he wanted this.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged her, feeling the way she was moving with him as he stroked her, chasing her release. “You want another?” She mumbled her assent amidst a string of curses and moans, his thumb sweeping over her clit before another finger joined the first, and he breathed words of praise into her ear, some a little dirtier than others. “That’s it.” His other arm curled under her waist, palm flattening low on her belly. He pushed down, fingers curling forward inside her until she was writhing and desperate.
“Please, Ereinion.”
He loved the way his name sounded from her lips, especially like this. Breathy. Needy.
He worked her until she was keening, until she tensed sharply around his fingers, her walls fluttering in a way he knew would be divine around his cock, would have him worshiping at her altar. “That’s it, Cel,” he murmured into her neck, drawing out her pleasure with gentle strokes. “Good girl.”
She melted into him, and god, she fit so well, and he might never get out of bed again if he woke up with her like this. He let his fingers slip from her after a few moments, but still, he held her close, lips pressed to her neck.
“Ereinion.” She sounded a little more awake when she shifted to face him. “What you said last night—”
“I didn’t mean it, Cel. Not for a second.”
Confusion furrowed her brows. “Then why—?”
“Your mother was glaring daggers at me over your shoulder, after having very strongly implied that it would not be in the best interest of my career to pursue you. In a moment of weakness, I said something stupid, something that is not even remotely true, because I never stop thinking about you.” He brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I've been in love with you since the moment we met, Celebrían.”
Something like hope sparkled in her eyes, and he let it burn freely in his chest after so many months of trying to tame it, to suppress it. Because he could find another job. But he needed her.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said softly, thumb stroking her cheek. “For making you doubt me.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “I won’t lie to you again.”
She didn’t say anything, just tucked herself into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Held him tight. It felt like things might be okay between them, but there was one more thing.
“Celebrían?”
She lifted her head, a question in her eyes.
“I would very much like to kiss you.”
She smiled and he knew what she would say before she opened her mouth.
“Hmm. I’m not sure I think of you that way, Ereinion.”
He didn’t even care that she was teasing him. She could tease him every day of his life so long as she was in it. Hopefully like this.
He rolled over so she was beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress. “No?”
“Well I definitely think of you this way. Especially after your little demonstration this morning.”
“Is that right?”
Her lips brushed his jaw on the way to his ear. “I knew you’d make me feel good.”
Pride and love warmed his chest and he held her close, letting her feel just how much he wanted her. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”
Her lips were warm against his neck, stretching into a smile as she murmured, “I like the sound of that.” When she pulled back, he saw something like promise sparkling in her eyes. “But I think you’re gonna need to kiss me first.”
With a smile on his lips, he did.