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Authors: Elizabeth Hayley

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction

Pieces of Perfect (14 page)

BOOK: Pieces of Perfect
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“I’m going to use your bathroom,” I said as I climbed off of him, disengaging myself from this moment. He followed me up and my eyes couldn’t help but steal a fleeting glance at
his cock.
A condom! Oh, thank the Lord! When had he put that on?
Despite my having been on birth control since I was 18, I still wanted to use condoms with Max, for obvious reasons. But,
in the heat of our passion, I had never even thought about it. At least one of us was thinking with the right head.  

 

His bedroom was large, with vaulted ceilings and exposed wood beams. But the room itself was simple. The hardwood floors continued up here, the walls were white and his comforter was a light grey. He had a master bathroom that was big enough for two, with a shower stall and Jacuzzi tub.
Man, would I like to climb in that thing right about now.
 

Max lagged behind me long enough to let me pee in privacy. I opened the bathroom door when I was finished, letting him know that he could join me. I felt suddenly uncomfortable being so naked. I quickly grabbed one of his towels and wrapped myself in it, inspecting my freshly fucked hair in the mirror.
What a mess.
 

I noticed Max’s reflection in the mirror as he approached. My chest felt heavier with each step he took toward me. It was like the air was being choked out of me. Max’s reflection looked different now. More vulnerable? Open? I couldn’t stand the air of change that surrounded us. I had to force us back into the familiar, weigh us down so that we never scratched this surface again.

 

“You know, about this whole image thing.” His head jerked up as something clouded his eyes. Disappointment. This wasn’t what he hoped I would want to talk about after
. . . I guess it could only be called lovemaking. His gait slowed and his demeanor changed. The peace our encounter had brought to him was fading. My next words would erase it completely.

 

“This
Mighty Ducks
routine you’ve got going isn’t going to convince anybody that you’re a changed man. It’s clear that you’re only doing it for appearances. You’re going to have a much harder time trying to overcome the horrible reputation you’ve made for yourself.”
 

And there it was. I told myself I was only trying to help him, offer him advice that any friend would offer. But I wasn’t just any friend, not after what had happened here tonight. And I knew it. This was the true reason why I had said what I did. The pain it caused him would only be temporary.
Wouldn’t it?
Then, we could get back to how we were. We were better suited there.

 

“I don’t remember asking your opinion,” he replied, his voice low and gritty.
 

“You didn’t,” I agreed. “But you need to hear it. It’s the truth.” My last words carried meaning beyond what we were actually discussing. He did need to hear me, because I had only ever told him the truth. And I was telling him the truth now. Our friendship was just that. It would never be more. Max was too chaotic, too wild, too electrifying to spend a lifetime with. He would drain me of my energy and leave me empty and broken. He was a risk that I wouldn’t gamble my happiness on.

 

“I don’t need to hear anything from you,” he growled, his eyes blazing into mine. “The only thing I need is for you to do what a booty call is supposed to do: get me off and then go the hell home.”

 

My body screeched to a halt, suspending all movement. My face fell for just an instant, the hurt rising, before I quashed it. Quickly, I put on a calm, impassive facade, turned, and dropped the towel. Now wasn’t the time for weak insecurities. It was a time for strength.
 

I started for the stairs, looking for bits of clothes as I descended. Max remained in the bathroom, but emerged as I began slipping from view, hastening my retreat down the stairs.

“Lily, I . . .”

 

I held up my hand to silence him. “Have a good night, Mr. Samson.” I never turned toward him, never slowed my pace. I finished dressing quickly and walked steadily to my car. It wasn’t until I turned the corner, effectively erasing his house from view, that I began to unravel.

 

I smacked my hand on the steering wheel as tears filled my eyes. But I refused to let them fall. I would not shed a single tear over that asshole. I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. I tried to tell myself that his comment had simply caught me off guard. My reaction was a typical emotional response to a cruel comment that had been completely unwarranted.

 

But who was I kidding?

 

Max hadn’t been the only one who had been cruel tonight and I knew it. But I hadn’t deserved that. My mind flashed back to the movie theater last week. I hadn’t deserved that rebuke either.
What was it with men?
Granted, I had pulled away from Max tonight, but not in this way. I hadn’t abandoned him as a friend. If anything, I had done it to save our friendship. It was he who fractured it, split it in a way that would prevent it from ever again growing back as strong as it once was.

 

He had treated me like I was trash, and even worse, had made me feel like maybe that’s exactly what I was. And perhaps he was right. He had asked for me to show him more, but I had proved incapable. Instead, I had demonstrated that I was only after one thing. I was a vapid bloodhound, just like the rest of them.

 

I drove the rest of the way, lost in my thoughts and trying to tread water in my own murky truth. Only one thing could possibly free me from this torment, though I’m not sure it was a practical option.
 

Wasn’t I too far into my life to become a lesbian?
 

 

Twenty-Two
 

Sat
urday night had finally arrived and, thankfully, my nerves wouldn’t allow me to dwell on what had happened between Max and me last night.  Instead, I focused solely on what might await me during the night ahead.  I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I made every effort to try not to guess what Adam was planning. In addition to wondering where we would be going, I also had no idea what our conversation would be like. I knew tonight Adam would tell me how he felt about me, but until today I hadn't considered the possibility that I would have to reciprocate that same honesty.

Since I had no idea where we would be going, I did the best I could with planning what to wear. “
Dress formally,”
he had said.
After a record-breaking number of outfit changes, I settled on a tight burgundy dress,
which left no room for any type of undergarment whatsoever. I curled my hair in beachy waves, and went light on the makeup, hoping for a more natural look. I didn't want to overdo it for whatever he had planned.

At 6:55, Adam arrived in a black Lamborghini. I knew he didn’t own one, so he must have rented it just for tonight. As always, he looked delicious. His trendy, slender fitting black suit hugged his perfectly firm body. And with his white shirt and thin black tie, he looked stylish but simple.

Despite the fact that I had been nervous for this date, being with Adam actually relaxed me. He emitted a kind of powerful calmness, like he could soothe my worries with his presence alone. For the first time, I found myself just enjoying being near him without the constant thought of ravaging him. Although, I still couldn't avoid the occasional image of his hand wandering off of the stick shift to find its place up my dress instead. But thankfully my thoughts were not consumed by those visions, as they had been during the movie. I was still capable of holding a normal conversation.

"So
, when do I get to find out where we're going?" I asked.

"When we get there," he responded, teasingly. "I'm pretty sure you'll like it, though. So don't worry."

From the moment this date had been arranged, I had promised myself that I would let him take the lead tonight. He would direct our conversation, even though I was dying to know the answer to the question I had asked when we talked in the parking lot Monday after school.
How did Adam Carter feel about me?
But I had to be patient with all things. Besides, I would find out tonight.

"We're going to Fleming's Steakhouse for dinner," he said excitedly. "I'll tell you that much. Have you ever been there?" He turned, his green eyes focused directly on me.

"No, but as long as I can eat something that was mooing a few hours ago, I'm in!"

He grinned proudly. "That's my girl!"

Though I was sure I was reading into it too deeply, I couldn’t help but smile internally at his proclamation.

 

*              *              *

 

We arrived at the restaurant, which had a masculine feel with its wooden walls and dim amber lighting. The hostess led us to a section of tables a few steps up from the main dining area on the left. I was thankful for the privacy that our table in the corner granted us.

 

Adam ordered us sparkling water and wine from their interactive wine menu on an iPad.
At least this time I know we’ll be sharing it.

“So,” he began, when we were alone. “I guess now is finally the right time to talk.” He settled back into his chair, relaxing a bit.

I braced myself for what this conversation might sound like. I had no idea where he would begin, or what we were really even going to discuss. So I waited patiently for him to continue.

“I think we left each other with some unanswered questions after the movie, so I figured we could talk about them tonight.” He was calm and direct, obviously not as embarrassed by this conversation as I was going to be. “I’m guessing you’d like to know why I reacted the way I did in the theater.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to . . .”

He interrupted to save me further mortification. “I know you didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t want you. I do. Physically, emotionally. I want you.” He lowered his voice a little further. “Just not in a movie theater,” he said, smiling sweetly.

His voice was soft, seductive even. And as I looked into his clear green eyes and felt the warmth of his skin against mine when he took my hand, I knew I wanted him in the same way. “I understand,” was all I could manage in return.

“What you were going to do
. . . that’s not how it should be.” He traced his fingers up and down my arm lightly, and my skin tingled. Our wine arrived, but he never took his eyes off of me to look up when the waiter asked if we were ready to order. Adam simply gave him a polite, “I think we need a few more minutes,” and continued his conversation with me.

“I want
that to mean something. I want
us
to mean something. To be honest, I’m not sure what that
something
is yet, but I know it’s worth more than what that would have been.” He paused for a moment. “Now I believe it’s my turn to ask a few questions.”

I realized then that I hadn’t actually asked any questions of my own. Adam just knew what I had been thinking and had taken it upon himself to answer. There was a bit of comfort in the realization that he knew me so well. Most guys have trouble distinguishing women’s feelings even after they tell them, but Adam had an intuition that was lacking in many men.

“How do you feel about me? About us?” he asked.  

And there I waited, in this interminable limbo of mere seconds, for him to continue so that I wouldn’t have
to answer immediately.

“I guess I am just cautious about where I go in relationships. Chalk it up to having a 12 year old daughter, I guess. I’m just protective of
my
feelings as well as hers. I’m not looking to sleep with as many women as possible.” Glancing at his hands folded on the table, he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully. “I’m looking for the right person, and if I didn’t think that you could possibly be her, I wouldn’t be here right now having this conversation. I just want to make sure you feel the same way before we take this any further.” He exhaled as if a burden he’d been carrying had suddenly been lifted. Regardless of what my reaction would be, he seemed lighter having confessed this.

I took a
deep breath before responding, “I’m not sure I love you yet, if that’s what you’re asking. But I definitely feel something when I’m around you. Something more than
I would feel for
some guy I just wanted to use for sex. That’s not what this is, regardless of how it may have seemed the other night.” I was surprised at how defensive I sounded suddenly.

“No, no. I would never think that. I don’t think you’re the type of person who would just screw some guy for the hell of it. Sorry if that’s how it came off.”

If he only knew just how right he was. I would
absolutely
screw some guy just for the hell of it. That guy just wasn’t Adam Carter.

“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asked, more directly than I would have expected.
Jesus, had he infiltrated
my brain tonight without my knowing it?

“No,” I said without even considering my answer, and
somehow managing to maintain eye contact. He didn’t need to know about Max, especially after our fight yesterday. “No, just you,” I repeated.

And I meant it. Max fulfilled a sexual need. That was all. And if that need could be filled by Adam (and his hopefully gigantic penis), I had no need for Max Samson anymore. He would just complicate things.

Adam smiled at my response. It had apparently appeased him because he motioned to the waiter that he could now take our order. I breathed a sigh of relief that that conversation was finally out of the way.

The remainder of our dinner passed easily. We discussed Adam's plans to go to his shore house over Eva's spring break in a few weeks. It would be too cold to swim, but I couldn't stop myself from picturing Adam in a bathing suit, sun glistening off his wet chest.

I was reminded of some of the vacations I’d taken, and Adam seemed genuinely interested as I shared the details of my childhood trips to my parents’ house on Lake Michigan.  “The last time I was there was when my roommate Amanda and I went with some college friends.  My parents had no idea we were even there.  It was a crazy week: drinking on my dad’s boat, cookouts and ladder ball in the yard . . .”

I stopped short, suddenly self-conscious of how immature that made me look.
 Would he think I had acted like a teenager?  Drinking, playing games, sneaking into a house without permission.  

Instead, he just looked at me with a sincere smile.
 “Sounds like fun.  I’d love to get a boat eventually.  So,” he asked with a subtle hint of seduction in his voice, “you ready for dessert?”

*
              *              *

Adam got out his valet ticket to give to the waiter, even though the Lamborghini was
probably parked right out front where they kept all of the expensive cars. As we walked toward the front of the restaurant, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and told Adam I would meet him outside. I touched up my lipstick and ran my fingers through my hair before heading out to meet him.

I arrived outside to find Adam leaning against the car with the passenger door open for me. He extended a hand to help me in, and closed the door gently. As he slid into the driver’s seat, I wanted so badly to ask where we were going, what he had planned for the night ahead, but I reminded myself that all things about Adam were worth waiting for, and this date was no exception.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long as Adam parked in the lot for the Radnor Hotel, which was adjacent to the restaurant.
More drinks?
I wondered as we entered the lobby. I was at their bar once before when I stayed there for a wedding. I hadn’t had much wine at dinner because I had been so nervous, but now that I was more relaxed, I didn’t mind the thought of having a drink or two.

But to my surprise, Adam led me quickly past the bar and into an open elevator.
Holy shit! Had he gotten us a room?
It was so unexpected. So thoughtful. So . . . Adam.

Alone
with him in the elevator, I was nervous. This was not the quickie on my lunch break that I’d become so accustomed to lately. This was planned. Intentional.

The elevator doors began to close, but they quickly opened again to let three more people on. Adam backed into the sidewall of the elevator, grabbing hold of my tightened stomach and pulling me against him. I felt his breath against the back of my neck, and my skin prickled in response. As I let my ass press against him, I could feel his dick stiffen almost immediately, slowly growing and pulsing against me steadily. The position felt strangely familiar to what I’d experienced with Max only yesterday, but the meaning couldn’t have been more different
.

I tightened with the need to feel him inside me. But the emptiness I felt in return was nearly unbearable. I could see his intense gaze reflecting back at me in the mirror on the opposite wall. Despite our company, his piercing stare and his strong hand pressed firmly against my pelvis created a feeling so intimate that I felt as if we were alone. I was reminded of my decision not to wear panties when I felt the creamy wetness make its way to the top of my thighs. As my heartbeat quickened, I struggled to control my breathing. I wanted to push against him, to feel him grind into the crack of my ass through the soft fabric of my dress. But I didn’t dare move.

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor, allowing the other passengers to exit. To my surprise and pleasure, Adam did not release me from his solid grasp. Instead, he swept my hair to the side, planting soft kisses down my shoulder, eventually lifting my arm up above my head to tickle the inside of my elbow with his wet lips.

The elevator went up a few more floors before again coming to a stop, this time on the eighth floor. “This is us,” Adam whispered, stroking my earlobe with his teeth. He took my hand and led me down the hall until we arrived at the room.
Our
room. As he took the key out of his pocket and opened the door for me, I filled with excitement.

It was then that I stepped into the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.

Elegant white striped wallpaper covered the walls.  The room was furnished with classic wooden furniture, and a gold and red upholstered armless chair in one corner.
But my eyes were immediately drawn to the king size bed in the center of the room. Sprinkled across the floor and on the blue and gold paisley comforter were pink rose petals that reminded me of the flower Adam had given me on our first date. The bed held a tray with a bottle of champagne on ice.

I pressed my hands together over my mouth and nose, my thumbs supporting my chin.
 I was in awe.  “God, Adam . . . this is . . . it’s beautiful.” I turned around to see him propping the door open with his strong shoulder as he leaned, confident and relaxed. “I don’t know what to say.”

BOOK: Pieces of Perfect
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