Crave: A BWWM Romance (12 page)

I gave Kaila’s hand a quick squeeze. As I stood, I bent to kiss her on the forehead. “Get some more sleep,” I said as I shouldered my purse and headed toward the door. “I’ll take your new world view under advisement. That’s the best I can offer under the circumstances.”

“That’s all I ask.” She smiled and gave me a painful purple wink.

I
was still sitting
like a supreme dumb-ass in the waiting area when Moneka emerged from her sister’s hospital bedroom. It felt like I’d finished the M&Ms an hour ago. I’d spent the rest of the time thumbing through magazines, trying to get interested in the articles. I still felt like people were staring at me. Somehow, I thought that looking interested in magazine articles would make me look like I was doing something important. Maybe people would just say “oh, he’s busy with important things” and leave me alone. Of course, nobody actually gave a shit. They were obviously too busy with whatever mess brought them here today.

Moneka was beautiful. Moneka was always beautiful. However, seeing her under stark hospital lighting, sweaty and tired, her hair doing nothing that made any kind of sense, I was struck with the reality of her beauty. It’s one thing to admire a chick whose spent the last two hours carefully painting her face and being swallowed by pantyhose the way a snake swallows it’s dinner. It’s entirely another thing to see someone here, at their worst, and wonder at how much like a painting they look. I wanted to reach my hands out and trace the edges of her face, feel every crevice to make sure it was real.

As she came closer, it was clear that she’d been crying. If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have sworn that Moneka Hart didn’t know how to cry. I would have sworn she didn’t even have the tear ducts required to complete the job. I supposed it was cruel of me to make such an unfair observation. Her sister almost died today. I shouldn’t be such a jerk. The image was nonetheless jarring. Today, I stumbled in on a very private world.

“Ginger ale?” I asked, offering the can up as she returned to her seat across form me.

“No.” Moneka said, rubbing her temples with one hand before remembering her courtesies. “Thank you.”

“I’m not a huge fan myself.” I lied. I loved ginger ale. “It’s here if you change your mind. Bit warm now, I guess.” What a stupid thing to say. A bit warm now? What did she care how warm the ginger ale was?

Moneka was silent, her face slackened and worn. A tear betrayed her on its way down the edge of her nose. When it touched her lip, she started a bit and wiped it away. The damage was done however. Other tears soon followed. It was all she could do not to sob.

I scooted to the edge of my seat and reached across the divide between us to take her hands in mine. It seemed like such a long distance between her row and mine. I might as well have been trying to comfort her across the Grand Canyon. Didn’t hospitals think of these things? This was an ER waiting room after all. I made a mental note to add it to their suggestion box. Did hospitals have suggestion boxes? I would suggest that too.

When I took her hands, she didn’t really respond. She didn’t resist either. She just let them lay there in my hands. She let me squeeze them lightly. I guessed this was progress.

“It’s going to be alright,” I said in a hushed tone. What a stupid thing to say. Who says that? Everyone. That’s why it’s so stupid.

“I know.”

I paused, waiting for more. But that appeared to be all she had to offer.

“How's she doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. Hasn’t lost her sense of humor.”

“That’s good. Don’t want that broken. I don’t think there’s a specialist for that.” I was trying to be humorous myself. Immediately, I could tell it was falling flat. I cleared my throat. “I’m glad that she’s doing ok. Do you know how long she’ll be here?”

“I don’t,” was all she said.

The tears had stopped at this point. I wanted to believe that I’d had something to do with that. Her body was tense and guarded though. Her very presence seemed to be receding from me like a wave on the shore, slowly pulling the earth from under me as she went. I thought I knew what she was going to say next.

“I think it’s time for me to head back to the restaurant. Sonia’s there by herself. She’ll need a break.” She gave me a small smile and lifted her hands from mine, indicating that our exchange was officially at an end.

“I think Sonia will be alright. You know she’s having the time of her life.” I wasn’t sure what I was trying to accomplish. What did it matter to me if Moneka wanted to go distract herself with work? Maybe that was how she dealt with stuff.

“Yeah, but it’s opening day. It feels a little absurd for me to not show up at all.” Moneka persisted as she dabbed at her face with some makeup, trying to mask her the recent tragedy that was now written all over her face.

“I think it makes sense. It’s not like you don’t have a good reason. You’re still upset Moneka…”

“…Then where am I supposed to go? Home to be alone? You think that’s a better way to cope than going to work?” The hand that held her compact was shaking. At the bottoms of her eyes, tears threatened another long journey down her cheeks.

“Come home with me.” If you’d asked me at that very moment why I said that, I would have no answer for you. I still don’t. Was I hoping to get lucky? No. Truth be told, I wasn’t hoping for anything. I just wanted to be near her. I wanted to bolster her during this time. I wanted to prove to her that there were other ways to feel better, ways that didn’t involve shutting everyone out.

“Come home with you?”

“For coffee.” I hastily added, shocked to see that she actually seemed to be considering it. “Look, I know things have been weird between us. And…I know I haven’t really helped that situation with all my jokes and whatever.”

“No, not really.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted. You’ve had a hellish morning. Just give yourself a break. Sonia is awesome and capable and the restaurant isn’t going anywhere.”

Moneka seemed to scrutinize me, eyeing my expression with care. I could tell that she was trying to decide if I was planning to make a move on her. I felt momentarily offended. Did she really think so little of me? Picking at it now would only make her angry though. I decided to let her scrutinize away; I had nothing to hide.

“Coffee huh?” She tasted the words, saying them slowly. It was as if Moneka thought coffee might actually be the perfect remedy.

“Coffee. Just coffee and a talk. This is not my first hospital visit Moneka. You might find me helpful to talk to.” I hoped I didn’t sound too plaintive.

“Ok.” The ‘ok’ was accompanied by a warning look. A look that clearly stated, ‘no funny business will be tolerated’. Message received, loud and clear.

I stood, forgetting the pile of useless magazines on my lap. They spilled haphazardly across the floor. With an apologetic chuckle, I scooped them up and deposited them on the side table. Moneka didn’t seem to notice. She just returned her compact to her bag and stood to go.

I escorted her out of the hospital and into my truck. As we buckled up and I moved it into gear, I was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I hadn’t cleaned my apartment in an embarrassingly long time. For a panicked moment, I almost changed tracks and suggested we go to her place. That didn’t seem tactful though. Who invites themselves into someone else’s home? Another part of me wanted to cancel. I could tell her it was a mistake and drive her to the restaurant. One look at her beautiful, broken self in the seat next to me put an abrupt stop to that line of thinking. If she wanted to go to my place then my place it was.

Anything to be close to her.

W
alking
into his apartment felt dangerously close to walking into a hazardous waste facility. Every observable surface had at least one unwashed dish on it. In the corner of the dining area, there were two piles of clothes just dumped right onto the carpet. One was undoubtedly the dirty pile. The other I hoped was a clean one. There wasn’t a surface clear enough to cut something so small as a garlic clove in the kitchen and the bar between the kitchen and the living room was piled so high with empty soda cans that visibility was at an all time low. To his credit, most of the dirty dishes were at least scrapped or rinsed. I doubted anything was living around here that wasn’t paying rent, although I couldn’t be entirely sure. The overall stench of the apartment was not all that bad either. It just smelled like sweat, nothing a little open window couldn’t fix.

I immediately went to open a window. I could see Cole’s sheepish expression as I did so. Maybe I hurt his feelings. I doubted it though. He must know the impression his place gives. If he didn’t, then my opening a window would provide him with a much-needed hint.

I turned and sat on his couch. Normally, I’m not a fan of leather couches. The traction when you try to snuggle up on it is grating on the nerves. This one wasn’t half bad though. I sunk in quite nicely, bringing my knees up to my chest. It must have been an expensive piece of furniture. I wondered why he couldn’t afford a maid with all that money.

Cole sat down on the other side of the couch. He brought one leg up so he was turned to face me. To his credit, he allowed for quite a bit of distance between us. I thought I knew what was coming next and I willed it to stop. I’d spent the entire drive over in silence, preparing myself to not have to talk about Kaila. I was just starting to feel like my old self and here he was, trying to rip it all up.

“There was a promise of coffee?” I asked to get him to go away for a bit. The longer I put it off, the less likely it would happen. We’d had our moment. It was done. This was not it.

“Right.” Cole jumped from the couch and headed to his kitchen. “How strong do you like it?” He asked over his mountain of coke cans.

“Strong.”

“Good.” A few moments and much rustling around later, he was back in the living room. “It’ll only be a few minutes.” I could see he was coming dangerously close to sitting on the couch again.

“Could you get me some water?” I wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Uh. Sure.” He returned to the kitchen.

“With ice!” I called after him.

“Check!” He called back.

“And if you have any crackers or anything, that would be awesome.” I wasn’t hungry.

Soon Cole had returned with a glass of ice water and some saltines. He placed them gently across from me and I almost felt bad for putting him through this farce. I’d just built a very delicate castle around myself. I didn’t want to let it fall. Almost as if the coffee knew my heart, the machine chose that moment to beep.

“One minute warning.” Cole said as he jumped up again. “How do you like it?”

“Black.”

“Not surprised, you're already
so
sweet by yourself,” he smirked in a friendly way. I might have taken offense any other day of the week. Today, however, his snarky humor was unusually comforting.

When Cole had returned with the coffee, I knew the jig was almost up. I let him take his place on the opposite end of the couch. As I searched desperately for a harmless and light conversation topic, I took slow sips of the hot beverage, allowing it to melt me a little on the inside. Cole didn’t say anything. He just watched me, sipping his own coffee as he did so.

“So what’s next for your company?” I finally said. I thought I saw Cole give a wry smile.

“Couple home renovations. One big project for a law firm that wants to refurbish their executive floor.”

I found myself feeling grateful that Cole was willing to play along. He wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

“Wow. That law firm one should be a money maker huh?”

“Oh yeah. Those corporate stooges are fond of overpaying.” He grinned.

“Hah. And how about those restaurant owners? Are they fond of overpaying?” I winked at him.

“Ahhh. Nice try. No. They’re not. They were on a budget and I saw that they really believed in building something important to them.”

“Did you?”

“I love buildings. I have a soft spot for things like that.”

He was so nice. Too nice. I wanted him to be mean. I wanted him to make me angry. It would be easier to push him away if he would just stop being so damn nice. Suddenly, I felt a minor tremor in my jaw. I guess my castle hadn’t been built to code.

“You ready to talk about Kaila yet?” Cole must have noticed that tremor too.

I didn’t respond. I knew that if I spoke, I would cry.

“Ok,” Cole continued. “Then let me talk. You see. That wasn’t my first waiting room. I know that feeling. The one you described earlier today. I know how it feels to have to have little more than hope that someone you love is ever going to come back to you.” He paused and put his coffee on the table. Wetting his lips briefly, he continued. “About ten years ago, my mother died from a brain tumor. When it was first discovered, it was deemed inoperable due to its location. I guess cutting into people’s brains is dangerous or something.” He paused as if he was waiting for me to laugh. “Anyway, it was a quick descent after that. Chemo was our only option. But, it was a long shot. She was just about as likely to die as she was to live. In the end she was on life support, in pain, and I was in a waiting room reading magazines and hating everything. We wanted to let her go. The doctors kept telling my Dad that there was a chance. That small, stupid chance of remission. That’s why she had to suffer for so long…” He stopped. I got the impression that he had lost the thread of the story. He had disappeared down the black hole of his memory.

This time it was my turn to reach out and hold his hands. I inched myself a little closer on the couch and held them firmly. He responded. He turned them around in his lap and held my hands at the same time that I was holding his. It was a comforting gesture, a validation that my concern was welcome. Suddenly, I remembered the hospital and how I left my hands just lay there in his and I felt vaguely guilty.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” What a stupid thing to say. Who wouldn’t be sorry? Who wouldn’t at least say that they were sorry?

“Me too. Well, it happened. I’m just saying that I understand. Not everyone understands. But I do.”

“I guess you do.” I looked down at our hands. This was not what I expected to be doing when I first agreed to come here. Who was this Cole Saunders and what had he done with the sarcastic, obnoxious, douchey playboy who worked in my restaurant everyday for the past several weeks? “I can’t say it was exactly like that. I have Kaila back after all. I’m lucky.”

“You are. So is she. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to her. I’ll have to visit tomorrow.”

I felt like I needed to clean out my ears with a cue tip and some lye. Cole Saunders wanted to visit Kaila in the hospital. I felt a brief pang of guilt over having been so quick to judge him all this time.

“That’s sweet,” I offered. “I think she likes you.”

“Not as much as I like you.” His thumb rubbed against the side of my hand.

“Like me? Really? Or not as much as you’re a guy and want to get laid?”

“There you go again Moneka, always thinking the worst of me. I like
you
. If I was just out there to get laid, I would be knocking on Cindy Crawford’s doorstep right now instead of talking about my dearly departed mother.”

“Cindy Crawford is a dinosaur these days.”

“Which is exactly why you don’t see me knocking on her door.”

I laughed. Cole really could make me laugh. I kept my guard up though. If he wasn’t just in it to sleep with me, how come we always seemed to find ourselves naked whenever we were alone together?

“What’s going on here?” I finally asked.

Cole let out a contemplative sigh.

“I invited you over for coffee and a chat.”

“Right. Then why do I feel like we’re building toward something else?”

“Why do I get the sense you’re accusing me of something? It takes two people to build toward some things.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I started to take my hands away and he caught them at the wrist.

“It wouldn’t be so bad though would it? If we were to build toward that?” He rubbed the inside of my wrist with his thumb.

I wanted to resist. I tried to conjure up my army of reasons why sleeping with Cole Saunders was a terrible idea. Instead, I just conjured up an image of Kaila in his hospital bed, telling me to live more and worry less. If it was just sex that he wanted, fine. Just sex could be good too.

“I guess it wouldn’t,” I said. Immediately I felt blood rushing to all of my most sensitive areas. A low-down warmth rose in me. Would we do it on this leather couch? Would he grab me and flip me around, entering from behind and holding my hips in place with his contractor’s grip? Would he pull me on top of him, bouncing me in the air? I thought about all the ways he seemed to like it and wondered what adventure we were about to have.

He didn’t do any of those things though. Gripping my wrists, he pulled me closer and kissed me delicately on the lips. Our foreheads pressed together, we both seemed to be out of breath from the energy of the moment. I kissed him back and this time our lips parted and the kiss became more impassioned. I put my hands on either side of the couch arm, coming in closer. He moved his hands to my back, not to unfasten my bra, but to pull me in to the kiss that would never end.

“Not here,” he said when we had unlocked for a moment.

“Why, do you have a roommate?”

“No, just not here. Follow me.”

With a shift in his posture, he indicated that he wanted to stand. I moved back and allowed him to go. Bemused, I followed him down his hallway to a bedroom. Sex in a bed. I almost laughed. Somehow, I hadn’t thought this fit his style, unless he was planning on tying me to the headboard. I barely had an opportunity to appraise his room and thank God that the worst thing about the bed was that it was unmade. The moment I’d entered the room, he closed the door behind me and went to sit on the foot on his mattress.

“This is your day Moneka. We can take this as fast or as slow as you want.”

I sat next to him. “I suppose I don’t know how to respond to that. Right now, I just need to get out of my head.”

“Then I’ll take the wheel. You just let me know if I’m doing something wrong.”

I braced myself for it. He was going to rip my clothes off and go to town. My body ached with feverish anticipation.

To my surprise, he did nothing of the kind. He just took my face in both hands and started kissing me. He kissed me slowly, parting his lips gently to slip his tongue into my mouth. Then he lightly kissed me on the cheek, the forehead, and the neck. The kisses were methodical but passionate. Each one felt like a neutron star, heavy, eternal, and comparatively small.

Eventually, he moved his hands lower. One pulled me in close while the other stroked my breasts through the fabric of my shirt. I felt myself warming up and quickly moved to undo his belt buckle.

He stopped me. “There's no rush,” he said.

With that he eased me back onto his mattress. I found myself on my back, lying on his bed with my feet dangling off the edge. He was partially over me, kissing me and continuing to tease me through my shirt. Passion grew large in me like an itch. This was some Guantanamo level torture.

“You’re mean,” I said.

“Awww. Would a mean person do this?” He got up and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

My hips were near the edge and my legs hanging off, as he knelt down and started working off the pants to my ridiculous pants suit. When the zipper was down, he took a moment to kiss the triangle of exposed skin right above my pussy. As he slipped the pants off, he left the underwear on. A moment later, I was pantless, shoeless, and sockless with a bizarrely unpredictable man kissing along the top line of my panties and lightly brushing his fingers between my legs. I groaned with anxiety and longing, wondering when he would rip them off.

He didn’t rip them off. Instead, he worked them off slowly, kissing his way down the inside of each thigh, hovering over my clit, his heavy breathing sending small thrills up my spine. He planted a firm hand on either leg and urged them wider apart as me moved closer to me. I noted that he was fully clothes and felt incredibly exposed with him hovering over my most private of parts like that.

Closing my eyes in time with a sharp intake of breath, I felt him part the way with his fingers and pressed his tongue against my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit at unpredictable intervals, making me shake and sigh with pure pleasure.

It didn’t take long for me to sense the rising action in the story. Mounting that climax became my only goal. I reached a hand up my shirt and under my bra in an effort to help it along. Touching myself harmonized well with the way he was licking and sucking between my legs. Buffeted by a strong wind of passion, I soon found myself close to the finish.

He kept working, making humming noises against me and squeezing my thighs. When I started to buck, I thought he almost laughed. He didn’t stop though, he just held me there, forcing me to feel every little moment of the ecstasy. When my body settled, he came up for air. The boyish grin on his face made me laugh.

“Was it good for you too?” He joked and I laughed harder. This is what I wanted. Just to laugh and touch him all day long.

The satisfaction I experienced was a strange one. I came, that was a certainty. But a dull ache told me that I wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself.” He climbed up on the bed again and lay next to me, his hand resting on my belly. “I enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself.”

“You know this day doesn’t have to be all about me you know. I put my hand back down toward his crotch. It was unmistakable hard through his pajama bottoms. “A little tit or tat?” I asked.