Give Me Yesterday (14 page)

“Ugh, yes!”

“Aren’t we, babe?”

She glares at me again so I dissolve the ticking bomb by stealing another kiss, this one a deep one.

“We’re nothing,” she tries, but I swallow her words as I dive my tongue into her mouth.

When I’ve kissed her to the point that she’s liquid jelly in my arms, I pull back and smirk. “Tori, we’re something.”

I pull away from her and saunter over to her television. “How do you turn this thing on? I’m afraid to touch anything in here,” I tell her, “Next sleepover is at my place.”

She shrieks and I bellow with laughter.

“Chase, you are really walking a thin line tonight!”

I flash her a wicked grin. “I know, boundaries and shit. What can I say? I like to test my limits.”

She shoulders past me and effortlessly mashes some buttons on her remote. Soon, we’re both standing in front of the television watching the news.

“Jesus, Tori. Is this what you do for fun?” I grumble and steal the remote. Flipping through the channels, I land on the new version of
The Amityville Horror
. “We’re watching this. Go grab us some blankets. I’m not cuddling on that white leather.”

When I turn to glance at her, she’s scowling. “I don’t have fun, especially three hours past my bedtime on a weeknight. You’re bossy and obnoxious, you know that?”

“You like it. You’re the fan of the manhandling, not me. I’m just trying to please the lady,” I reply.

“Seriously, Chase. I have to work in the morning.”

“You’ll live. It’s just one night.” She doesn’t move so I slap her ass. “Get to it, woman.”

With a kitten-like growl, she stomps away. While she’s gathering the blankets, I explore her home.

Crisp.

Cold.

Uninviting.

Frowning, I stroll into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances have been scrubbed to shine. White granite countertops add to the sterile vibe she has going on in here. There’s not a speck of dirt or a dirty dish in this kitchen.

The girl could use a drink—something to warm her up and thaw the ice that runs through her veins. Like the nosy person I am, I open some of her cabinets to see if she’s stashing away any liquor.

I come up empty but I do find the motherlode of Peanut M&Ms.

So the girl
does
do some color.

Snatching up the bag, I saunter back into the living room to see her efficiently tucking a blanket into the cushions of the couch. She’s changed into the most casual thing I’ve ever seen her wear. An outfit that has my cock on full alert.

My eyes skirt over her scantily clad body and I swallow down the urge to throw her down on the couch, ripping the rest of her clothes off along the way.

I mean,
seriously
.

Why the hell is she teasing me wearing nothing but a tight pair of peach colored pajama pants and a white camisole? Her blonde hair is wild and it hangs in front of her shoulders causing her to look every bit the angel I know she hides deep inside.

“I changed my mind about the sleepovers. Your house is
way
better,” I drawl out and make a show of skimming my eyes over her body.

Her cheeks pink and she shakes her head. “You are
not
sleeping over, Chase.”

“We’ll see,” I tell her smugly and toss her the bag of sweets. “I brought dessert.”

She smiles and tears them open while I kick off my shoes. If she’s going to get comfortable, then so am I. With a tug of the bottom of my jersey, I peel it off and I nearly chuckle aloud to see her gaping at my now bare chest.

“W-w-what are you doing?” she stammers, eyes drinking up every line and curve on my flesh. Her eyes linger on the angel tattooed over my heart, but I don’t give her time to ask the question.

“This is how I sleep. Topless. You should try it,” I flirt.

Her eyes bug out and she drags her gaze away from me. “You’re not sleeping here and I’m not getting naked.”

I laugh as I plop down on the couch and stretch out. “Yet, baby.”

She storms around the house snapping off lights and releasing some of her frustration. By the time she comes back, she’s cooled off. She sits at one end—like that’s going to fucking happen—and pops a piece of candy into her mouth.

Rolling my eyes at her, I hook my arm around her waist and haul her to lie down with me. I expect her to resist but she lets me pull her flush against me with her back to my chest.

I could get used to having this woman glued to me every night.

The thought warms me.

But as the movie continues and we munch on the sweets, my mind skips into dark places. The depression that I keep shoved away begins sneaking its tendrils into my head and infecting my mind.

Thoughts swarm like nagging flies and I swat them away, attempting to stay in the present moment with her. Instead, I’m stolen and thrust into a memory I’d rather forget.

“Mom, I hate myself.”

My mother, with her long, wavy graying hair, frowns and rises from her chair in the cold, sterile hospital room. They’ve since moved me to the psych ward. Apparently I need “help.”

“Son,” she says with a clipped tone as she approaches my bed. “You don’t hate yourself.”

Bitter tears well in my eyes and I tug at the restraints on my wrists. Of course they’re unmovable. Apparently hurting yourself is frowned upon here. “I
do
hate myself.
I
should be dead.”

She swallows and runs her fingers across my forehead, brushing my hair out of my eyes. The throbbing in my head is deafening and never stops. Another reason why I feel crazy. “Chase, the swelling on your brain isn’t allowing you to think clearly.” She affirms my thoughts. “You deserve to be here. With your family.”

The laugh that barks from me is harsh. “If I could just go back.
She
would be here today. I’d give my life for hers in a heartbeat.”

Tightness in my chest squeezes on my heart and I want to fucking explode.

“You almost lost your life too, son. Stop blaming yourself.”

Ignoring her words, I stare out the window. Down in the courtyard, a man carries his child down the pathway lined with daffodils. My heart slices open.

Ashley and I were going to get married one day. Have kids. The white picket fence and dogs and shit.

But she’s gone now.

I know in my heart I didn’t deserve her.

Not now.

Not after everything.

“Chase?”

The sweet voice rips me from my past and I pop open my eyes to see Tori staring at me with concerned eyes.

“Sorry,” I grumble, “I must have fallen asleep.”

She narrows her eyes at me and reaches up, pushing my hair back. “I’m a lawyer. I smell bullshit from a mile away. What’s wrong?”

I close my eyes again and exhale, hoping to push out the lingering self-hate that soils my attitude. “Everything’s fine, babe.”

Soft lips brush against mine as she tenderly runs her finger along the scar on my hairline. “How’d you get this nasty thing?”

I open my eyes and frown. Her eyes are all over me—assessing me—mothering me—fretting over me.

Ignoring her question, I roll her to her back on the couch and drop my mouth to hers. Our lips connect and the electricity that always ebbs and flows between us zaps to life. I want to lose myself in her. Forget my past. Enjoy the present. Pray for a future.

I slide my jean-clad leg between her knees and groan when she whimpers the second my thigh rubs against her pussy. This woman is like a live wire—every time I touch her she flips and flops in my arms—jolting with spasms of pleasure.

Just last night I promised myself to go slow. To give her time. To cultivate what could be something real between us.

But now? I’m every bit a horny teenage boy with a gloomy cloud hanging over his head that’d do anything to distract himself from its omnipresent darkness.

Slipping my hand over her breast, I run my thumb over her pebbled nipple and suck her bottom lip between my teeth. Her squirming and whimpering only serve to egg me on.

“My God, woman,” I groan, my erect cock pressing into her hip. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Chase,” she mutters as I trail my fingers down along her belly toward the part of her that has to throb for me. “We should stop and talk—”

Her words are cut short when I slip my fingers under the elastic band of her pants and drag them over the silk of her panties. She yelps and tilts her head back, causing her breasts to be shoved into my face. I finger her clit over her panties and nip at her tit with my teeth.

“Chase,” she cries out, her body tightening with each eager circle I trace on her throbbing nub.

“Come baby,” I coo against her nipple through the thin material of her shirt and give her pussy one more deep massage.

She splinters apart and I’m eager for the day she’ll orgasm with me deep inside of her. I’m addicted to this woman. Her presence is a salve to the gaping hole in my heart. A light to scare away the darkness of the hate for myself.

I need her.

“Chase,” she murmurs. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Her guilt at coming unglued at my touch once again isn’t nearly as bad as the night before. This time, she relaxes and her furrowed brows are once again inspecting me.

Maybe she wants to fix me too.

“Who did you lose?” she whispers.

The ache slices through me and I slam my eyes shut. I grit my teeth until I’m sure I’m about to crack them. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Her arm slides across my middle and she buries her face against my chest. Despite my raging hard-on, I slip my hand out of her pants and hug her to me. Silence stretches between us. Eventually my eyes droop and I drift off.

“You don’t always have to be the strong one,” she whispers almost inaudibly. “I can carry you too.”

I watch her run her late-ass into her office building before I nod to the valet and head out of the parking lot. After thinking about my mom last night, I decide I need to see her. Not that she’ll know who I am or anything.

As I turn onto the highway, I smile remembering what it was like to wake with a very disheveled but sexy-as-sin Tori wrapped around my body. Her alarm was raging and when she realized I had indeed spent the night, even though nothing else happened, she was horrified.

But all it took was to make her coffee while she got ready, and give her a lift to work to be in her good graces again. She even kissed me before she climbed out of my car.

We didn’t talk any more about what happened. The boundaries. The orgasm. My bad attitude. But we found a comfortable place. And I’m already craving to see her again.

When I pull into the assisted living apartment complex, my anxiety rises. Dad always requests that I come see her but I end up leaving with my head more fucked than it already is. It’s been a few weeks and I’m long overdue.

After I park and trot up the pathway to their downstairs apartment, I swallow down my unease. I have my hand poised to knock on the door when it suddenly flies open.

“Good morning, son,” Mom greets with a fond smile. “We just sat down to breakfast. There’s enough for three.”

I gape at her, not usually here when the cloudy, far-off look in her eyes isn’t present. Tears swim in my eyes and I pull her to me for a hug.

“Momma.”

She pats me and then tugs away to lead the way to the table. Dad’s drinking his morning coffee like it’s no big deal that Mom is actually lucid.

“Morning, Dad,” I choke out, still overcome with emotion.

“Morning, son.”

My mother sets to making me a plate and I sit between them, remembering old times when this was normal. Before the accident and before the Alzheimer’s.

When she sits down, I reach over and touch her hand. “I met a girl.”

Her brown eyes twinkle and she shoots my father a loving glance. “That’s lovely. Tell me about her.”

“She’s great. I mean, she’s a successful lawyer, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and she
gets
me.”

As soon as I say the last bit, her brows furrow. “Ashley’s a bitch. I don’t want you marrying that girl. Her betrayal when you needed her is too much.”

I’ve lost her.

Snatching up a piece of bacon, I bite into it and blink away the tears. “Momma, my new girlfriend’s name is Tori.” My attempt to ignore her confusion and drag her to the present falls on deaf ears.

I frown when she drops her eyes to her plate for a minute and stares at her eggs. When she lifts her eyes back to mine, my mother is completely lost in her own head again.

“I called for building maintenance four times and they’re just now sending someone to fix the toilet?” she questions with a sharp glare, not one single bit of recognition in her hard eyes.

Shooting Dad a pleading look, I’m met with one of sadness and apology.

Clearing my throat, I stand. “I’ll fix it now, ma’am.”

Anger surges through me. I want to rip the goddamned toilet from the floor. Instead, I pretend to plunge it and flush it. Once I’ve washed my hands, I storm back to the kitchen.

“It’s all fixed. Anything else you need?”

Mom waves toward the door. “Not now. Next time, don’t make me call four times.”