Wednesday (12 page)

“Yeah, genetics. I’m praying for
the same.”

“No, I think it’s because I’ve had
control over my life. I’ve worked hard, but never really worried. It’s rare
that I have an altercation. It’s rare I raise my voice, even when the three of
you were little stinkers. I’ve been happy and sure of myself. I didn’t have a
man to muck it all up.”

“And now?”

“You know, as nice as it was, I
think I’d take a few more wrinkles.”

“It’s not too late, you know. Have
you ever thought of Jimmy?”

“Jimmy? No, we’re more like family.
Kate was one of my best friends.”

“And it’s been two years, Mom. I
think she would approve. In fact, I know she would.”

“What makes you think Jimmy would
even consider the idea?”

“Oh Mother, for someone so
brilliant, you’re also so blind.”

“I might say the same about you,
dear.”

“Well, yes, Alex. That was a low
blow.”

“I’m not talking about Alex.”

I lift a brow.

“You know who I mean,” she says.

And we both sit on that for a
moment.

“I’ll get the next episode ready,”
Mom finally says. But when she presses play, she mumbles to herself , “Jimmy,
hmph.”

And I think about Tristan – and how
it could never work.

The following
Wednesday, I wait, half expecting her not to show. She’s skittish and
undependable, despite knowing how I make her feel. How much she wants this. But
she still hates me. I see it in her eyes when we’re in public. I can’t blame
her.  

“All right, asshole,” she says when
she finally does make an appearance. “Let’s do this.”

It’s hot, but also a little fucked
up. Honestly, the whole hate-sex thing is making me feel like a misogynistic
bastard. I’m not sure how much longer I can play.

“Can we lose the act for today,
Ari?”

“What’s the matter? You can call me
names in front of the town, but not here. Losing your edge?”

“No, I’m getting a little tired of
the whole game. I just want to be with you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to
that.

“How’d it ever get this far out of
control, anyway?” I ask. “I know I told you to leave me alone, but I never
wanted this.”

“What do you expect by the way you
acted back then? When you said my life was a mess and I deserved what I got.
How do you think I should’ve reacted? I know I’ve made mistakes, but some of
them have been the best things in my life. Look at Cade. How could you ever
imply he was a mistake or a mess? At least you were talking to me then. The
rest of the time, you cut me out. Never even answered my calls.”

 “Ari, I didn’t know about Cade
until you came back into town.”

“How is that even possible?” she
asks.

“You never told me.”

“I tried, but you never listened. But
still, what about the papers, the news programs? Alex paraded him around every
chance he got.”

“I detest sports. And after you
left, I guess it was just easier to pretend. I avoided it and it really wasn’t
hard, especially when I moved to L.A. I didn’t talk to Dad much other than
business and Danny and I had a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You, Alex, and football were
completely off limits for conversation. And each time I put you down, I was only
referring to your choice to leave with Alex. I know it was bad, but you
destroyed me, Aria. You have to believe me, though; I’d never talk shit that
about a kid. Never. Especially yours.”

“Well, I know you’re not into
children.”

“I think you’d be surprised.” I don’t
want to tell her about my time with Cade or the fact that I enjoy our
afternoons more than he does. It seems a little self-serving at this point.

“So you’re telling me our whole
enemies-to-bed buddies thing is a sham?” she asks.

“No, not at all. I still don’t like
you, Prince. You broke my fragile teenage heart.”

“Nice.”

“But I’d like to call a truce for a
while,” I say, reaching for her.  

“I’d like that.” She wraps herself
around me, something she’s never done before. 

“Now, come upstairs with me, woman.
I want you naked and screaming my name before dinner.”

“You are awfully bossy. You think
you can just order me around and tell me what to do for the promise of an
orgasm?”

“I don’t know, can I?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point.”

“Go,” I demand.

Her eyes are wicked when she says,
“Make me.”

Aria is real and genuine and it
takes my damn breath away. The control she gives to me is the ultimate
aphrodisiac. She looks at me now with those hooded eyes just waiting for me to
make my next move.

And I have no problem with that.

ARIA

Each time I cross the threshold at
the beach house, I feel a weight lifted. It’s become my reprieve from daily
pressures and responsibilities, and from the burden to be a certain way or act
a certain way. It’s my haven. My own clubhouse where I make the rules.

This time when we – I have to say
make love, because that’s what it feels like – it is slow and sweet and
emotional.

After, we’re quiet, but it’s not
uncomfortable. It’s welcome. And when our bodies reach out for another touch,
another connection, we tangle up all over again.

“This is bad,” I say as we spread
out on Tristan’s bed completely spent.

“Bad, are you crazy?” Tris asks.  

“It’s so bad. I don’t think I could
say no to you if I tried. It can’t be a good thing to give up control all the
time, no matter how much I love it.”

“You love it?” he asks with so much
emotion, it makes me melt a little.

I might love more than just our
sex life.
A thought I don’t want to admit just yet.  

“That’s what you haven’t quite
figured out yet, Ari.” He places a soft kiss in each palm. “You have all the
control.”

“That’s not what it sounded like a
few minutes ago.”

“That’s me helping you let go –
only while we’re together this way. You have a submissive side to you sexually
and I have a dominant side. I want to help you, make it easier on you. Give you
the most possible pleasure I can. I’m here to serve; give you what you need. You
hold all the power.”

“I guess I never thought about it
that way.”

“It’s true,” he says.

 “In that case.” I fling myself on
top of him. “I demand we go again.”

***

When we’re finally done, my stomach
releases a loud growl that reminds us of the one body part we’ve neglected.

“Beat around the bush, why don’t
you.” Tristan laughs.

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t get much
of a chance to eat today.”

He regards me in a softer way just
then.

“How is that possible when you work
in a diner and live above said diner?” he asks.

“Ah, let’s see, work, classes,
studying, caring for my child, cleaning, laundry.” I realize I’m going off on a
tangent, so I lighten up. “And that was before lunchtime. About the time you’re
on your third cup of coffee.”

Tristan stands and yanks me off the
bed. He slides into a pair of sweats and covers me in a fresh T-shirt, before
pulling me downstairs into the kitchen, where he takes out two plates and and
four white boxes from the fridge.

He didn’t.

With a wink, he reaches inside for
a cream cheese puff and runs it under my nose.

Oh yes, he did.

My hand clamps down on his wrist. I
eat it right from his hand, not caring one bit that it’s cold. It’s been ages
since I’ve had good Chinese food.

“So back to my life of leisure,” he
says, feeding me another puff. “I’ll see you your study time and waiting tables
for my weekly payroll and supplies orders for Windows Unlimited.  And I raise
you one bath, breakfast, and workout for an ornery old man. And that was all
complete by, ahem, ten a.m.”

“You are actually taking care of
Pauly?” I ask, using our pet name for his dad. Adding the y to the end of that
grump’s name always made us laugh.

“I told you that.” Tris says.

“Yeah, I guess you did, but I just
assumed that you had help.”

“I do. We have nurses check in, and
Heddy of course, who is a godsend to give me Wednesdays off. Shit, if she only
knew what we were up to out here.”

“Stop.” I push him. “Seriously, you
get him ready and feed him and do PT?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Ari. It’s
not all out of the goodness of my heart. There’s something in it for me.”

“Still.”

“Come on, load up your plate,” he
says. “I’ve always wanted to eat in bed.”

I pile mine with the cream cheese
puffs, lo mein, and garlic beef, ignoring the fact that he picked up all my favorites.
It’s probably just a coincidence.

Yeah, right.

Aria becomes more
like the girl I used to know with each passing Wednesday. The other day, she
giggled – something I hadn’t heard since we were in high school. There was so much
joy and elation in the sound.

And let’s face it, there has never
been two more sexually compatible people. It’s that reasoning I use to explain
the uneasiness I feel when she’s not in my bed.

It’s not the woman, it’s the sex.
That becomes my mantra, because I don’t want it to end. When we’re together
it’s precious and raw and so fucking fantastic, I’m hard for days simply
reliving the memory.

As I get ready for class, I realize
I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Though the one-day-a-week situation has become
grating. It wears me down with a physical ache, waiting to see Aria, to touch
her.

We both know our arrangement has
become so much more, but neither of us is ready to face it. Like last week, I
made us dinner: steaks on the grill. No sense in eating alone, especially when
we both needed our energy for the evening activities. Aria made the salad and
set the table, and it was just so
normal
. I even found myself wishing
the little dude was joining us.

Then, as we were sitting at the
table talking about our days, she leaned over and started cutting my steak. I
sat back and watched her do it, in awe. She was in mommy mode without even
realizing it.

After she got half of the beef in
squared cubes for me, awareness flashed across her face. It quickly morphed
into heated embarrassment. “Oh my God,” she said, hiding her face. “I can’t
believe I just cut your food like you’re a toddler.”

“I actually quite like it,” I told
her. “Faster this way, so we can get to other things.

“You mean I didn’t ruin you for
life with that move?” she joked. “It has to be quite the mood killer.”

She was so wrong. It was endearing
and sweet. That is the real Aria and I want more of her. All of her. She has a
child and is responsible for so much, but here with me, she trusts completely.
And it only increases my possessive nature. 

Wednesdays are no longer enough.

Later that morning in the commons, the
sight of Aria takes my breath away. Wearing a sundress with her hair in a long
braid, she sits in the grass looking like a picture. It takes all my self-control
not to climb on top of that tight body and pound it into the ground.

She looks up and her cheeks flush
as if she knows what I’m thinking.

You see far too much, Aria Prince.

Her anatomy book is open and brings
all sorts of wicked thoughts into my head.

I take a seat and sing,
the neck
bone’s connected to the chest bone
, while tracing a path from her chin to
her décolletage, and then just above her breasts that rise with each breath.  

“Why, Tristan Green,” she says. “Your
fingers are dangerously close to my bosom.”

“Oh, is that the technical term?” I
chuckle. “Bosom. Okay, I can work with it. Maybe even turn it into a filthy
little word.”

“I always think of that word and
women in those period dresses, like in Downton Abbey, when I’m with you in
public.”

“Excuse me?” I feel an insult
coming along.

“You know, the women with the heaving
bosom, when they are upset or are turned on or ready to faint. I feel like that
when I’m with you.”

“Wait a minute, time out on the
heaving bosom for a sec, you watch Downton Abbey?”

“Mom’s gotten me into it, thrilled
to have another romantic around. Well, a recovering romantic. Serena hates that
crap.”

I imagine she does, the little minx.

“I can see it,” I answer, offering
no more. “But enough of that, let’s get back to the heaving bosoms and our
little anatomy game.”

“Stop that, and stop messing with
me in public.”

“Hey, you brought it up,” I say,
tracing a delicate line along that beautiful heaving bosom.

“Tristan.” She slaps my hand away,
but her eyes grow dark.

“No one’s watching us, Ari. Stop
being so paranoid.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m just
used to people watching my every move.”

“Well, you’re home now and you’re
safe.” I place my arm around her shoulder and squeeze. For the briefest of
moments, she rests her head on my chest and melts into me. How I wish I could
take away her stress outside of the bedroom as well as I do inside.

“Look, baby,” I say. “I’ve been
thinking. I want to renegotiate our deal.”

It just comes out. Of course, I’ve
been thinking of nothing else, but wanted to be a little more suave with my new
proposal.

 “Renegotiate,” she says. There’s a
trace of panic in her voice and I want to kiss it away. “Why? I thought
everything was going perfectly.”

“And that’s why I want to
renegotiate. I want more.”

“More what?”

“More everything.”

It’s time to show her more as well.
I want her to see how I am with Cade. Show her that there’s more to me, more to
us, than just sex.