In Love With Lucy (NSFW) (13 page)

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Absently, Chris glanced at me as he took food out of the bags and started loading up my empty fridge. “I knew you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some things to eat and some over-the-counter migraine medicine.”

I watched as he placed a take and bake pizza on the counter, along with root beer.

Unsure of what I wanted to say, I went the polite route. “Uh, thank you.”

He smirked at me over his shoulder, as if he understood that I was at a complete loss. “I noticed your refrigerator only held ketchup, pickles, and a few cartons of yogurt the last time I was here. I thought you might be hungry and wouldn’t feel like going out.”

Again, he was showing me how sweet and considerate he could be and it made me want to swoon. I just stared at him, unable to think of one thing to say. He seemed completely unaware that my heart was lying in a puddle at his feet, because he turned on the oven and started unwrapping the pizza.

I sat on one of my barstools and watched him putter around my kitchen, making himself right at home. I liked the sight more than I should. In fact, I liked it so much that I wanted to ask him if he would come over every day and make dinner for me at 3 p.m.

He opened several cabinet doors, obviously looking for something. Just as I was about to ask him what he wanted, he reached in and pulled out a pizza sheet. I blinked. I’d completely forgotten I had it. If I made frozen pizza at home, I usually just stuck it on the oven rack because I was too lazy for anything else.

After the pizza was in the oven, Chris turned and looked at me. I sat up straighter.

“What?”

He shook his head and took a glass out of the cabinet, filling it half full with water. Then he opened the bottle of migraine medicine and shook two pills into his palm. Looking stern, he brought the pills and the water around the bar.

“Take these,” he said, holding up the pills.

I did as he asked, popping them in my mouth, then taking the glass and washing them down with water.

“Thanks.”

Chris gave me a small smile and took my hand. “Now, I’m going to give you a back rub.”

I frowned at him slightly. “What? Why?”

“It will help with the pain and help you relax so you can sleep.”

He pulled me to my feet and started to lead me into the bedroom. I lagged behind a little, dragging my feet.

“I’m okay, Chris. All this isn’t necessary. It’s just a migraine. It’s already better and it will be gone by tomorrow morning.”

He stopped, turning to face me. “You never call in sick, Lucy. This is the first time in almost a year you haven’t come in to work and the last time you had such a horrible case of flu you almost ended up in the hospital. I wanted to be sure you weren’t downplaying the seriousness of your symptoms.”

I tried to tug my hand out of his. “You were checking up on me.”

His face grew serious and a little angry. “Yes. I was checking on you because I was worried that you were sicker than you were letting on. The last time I looked around that wasn’t necessarily a crime. In fact, checking on the people you care about is a requirement in almost every relationship.”

Oh shit, he used the R-word.
He
used the R-word. My heart started to pound. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who was in deeper than they wanted to be. I bit my lip and nodded.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

His expression softened and he lifted a hand to touch my cheek. “So, let me give you a massage. You should probably milk this for all it’s worth because I wouldn’t want to spoil you by pampering you all the time.”

I made a face at him and he chuckled, pulling me with him into the bedroom.

“Take off your shirt and pants,” he commanded.

I pointed a finger at him. “No funny business.”

He grinned. “I promise. My hands will be on their best behavior.”

I didn’t believe him for a minute, but the pills he gave me must have been fast-acting, because the remnants of the migraine were fading, leaving me feeling drained and a little light-headed. I pulled my shirt over my head and heard him suck in a breath. I hadn’t bothered with a bra and it obviously took him by surprise. Then I stripped off my pants and left them in a pile on the floor. I moved to the bed and stretched out on my stomach.

Chris was silent for so long, I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder at him. He was staring at my ass, revealed by the cotton thong I was wearing. When he realized that I was staring at him, he shook his head and his eyes moved to my face.

“Lotion?” he asked huskily.

“On the counter in the bathroom. I have a bottle of baby oil there.”

He nodded and disappeared into my bathroom. I crossed my arms and rested my forehead on them. A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps come back toward the bed, then what must have been his shoes hit the floor. The bed shifted as he climbed onto it and straddled my upper thighs. The lid popped on the baby oil bottle then I heard him rubbing his hands together.

The oil was warm from his palms as he began to smooth it over my upper back and shoulders. The calluses on his hands even felt good. As his fingers pressed into my tense muscles, I groaned.

“Is that too deep?” he asked.

I wanted to laugh at his question because it sounded almost dirty, but the pressure of his hands on my tight muscles felt heavenly and I didn’t want him to stop.

“No, that’s just right.”

He grunted and continued to rub the oil into my skin, using his thumbs to rub knots out of my shoulders and neck. As he worked his way down my back, the feel of his hands on me and the sound of his slow steady breathing lulled me. I grew drowsier and drowsier before I dropped off into a blissful sleep.

I woke up
sometime later with a start. The room was dim and cool. Chris had draped the throw from the end of my bed over me. I could hear the faint murmur of a television so I got up and pulled on my t-shirt and lounge pants.

Stretching, I wandered into the living room and found Chris sitting at my bar, his laptop and files spread out on the surface. He looked over at me when I walked in.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

“How’s the head?”

I thought for second and realized that the migraine was completely gone. “All better. Not even a twinge.”

He smiled. “Good. Are you hungry? I put the pizza in the fridge after you fell asleep.”

“Sure.”

As he started to shut down his laptop and gather his papers and files, I skirted the bar and started digging through the fridge.

“I can do that,” he complained.

“Yeah, so can I.”

I found the pizza on a plate, covered with cellophane. I pulled it out, unwrapped it, and put the plate in the microwave. I turned just in time to run into Chris’ chest.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, laughing. “There’s not a lot of room in here.”

Chris smiled down at me and wrapped both arms around my waist. “Then I guess you’d better stand close to me.”

I wound my arms around his neck. “I suppose there are worse things.”

We were grinning at each other when he leaned down and touched his nose to mine.

“God, I love you,” he murmured.

My entire body froze solid. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Those were the words I wanted to hear. I wanted him to hold me the way he was right at that moment. Yet I was filled with the irrational fear that there was no way this could work out.

After four years of carefully guarding my heart, the idea of being vulnerable and exposed to this man scared the bejesus out of me. My chest felt tight and my heart was beating so fast that I was sure it would explode.

“Lucy?”

I blinked rapidly, trying to collect myself, but it was a lost cause. The longer I stood there, staring wordlessly at Chris, the more closed his expression became. Finally, he pulled away from me, his arms dropping to his sides.

When his hands left my body, I was able to think and speak again. “Chris…” my voice trailed off at the look in his eyes.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“Chris, please let me explain.”

He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest and I knew that even if I articulated what I had been thinking and feeling clearly that he was in no mood to listen. He thought I rejected him, and in a way, I had.

“Explain,” he said shortly.

I cleared my throat. “I just feel like this is….” I searched futilely for the right words, “sudden.” I didn’t continue because his disappointment seemed to be morphing into hot anger.

“Sudden?” he asked in a dangerous tone. “Sudden? How the fuck does three years of me wanting you so badly I can barely stand it qualify as sudden?”

I felt cold, nauseated, and the insistent pounding returned to my head. “What?” I whispered.

Chris took a step forward, looming over me, his hands grasping my elbows. “For three years, I’ve watched you strut into my office, looking beautiful and full of life and joy. You are nothing like the other women I’ve known.” He grimaced and turned away, tearing a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was because I’d been too focused on my career and not taking care of my physical needs”

My body jerked slightly. That cold description sounded more like the Chris Barden I knew. Then he continued and blew my mind.

“I realized after months of dating, trying to find a woman who appealed to me as much as you did, that no one else would do. I bided my time, waiting for a chance, but you never gave me one. You didn’t tolerate my moodiness or rudeness yet you revealed nothing personal about yourself. The closer I tried to get to you, the farther away you seemed.”

The fear and chill that covered my skin was beginning to recede, but I still couldn’t process all that he was saying.

Finally, Chris stopped pacing my tiny kitchen and stared at me, no longer angry, only bleak.

“I gave up trying to find what I wanted elsewhere because no other woman could compare to you. You’re it for me, everything I could ever want or need.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Only you’re more afraid of commitment than I ever was. It seems almost fitting. I finally find the woman I want for the rest of my life, but she’s scared shitless of belonging to anyone but herself.”

Shaking his head, he walked around the bar and grabbed his briefcase and jacket and headed toward the door. After he opened it, Chris stopped and looked back at me. “I want you, Lucy, and I love you. I know that you feel something for me. I can see it every time we’re together. But you have to decide if you’re willing to lower your guard and let me in. I can wait,” he paused, “a while, but not forever. If you won’t give us a chance, then perhaps it’s best if we both move on.”

With that eviscerating statement, he walked out of my apartment and shut the door behind him.

F
or the next
two days, I alternated between self-righteous anger, sulking, and regret. I also unearthed a pint of Ben and Jerry’s that Chris must have brought Friday afternoon and ate the entire thing. Along with chips and salsa, popcorn, and some semi-sweet chocolate chips I liked to keep in the freezer. I ate nothing but junk food all weekend.

After sleeping so much during the day Friday, I was up most of the night thinking about the things Chris said. At first, I was angry. What right did he have to give me an ultimatum like that? I’d show him. I considered refusing to return to work, then remembered that I would be leaving Chelsea high and dry with a man that could win a staring contest with a snake. Considering snakes didn’t have eyelids, the thought was scary.

When I realized I was stuck for the next few weeks, I pouted. I ate my way through half the food in my freshly stocked fridge then had to take some Alka-Seltzer to settle my stomach. It wasn’t fair.

The sulking didn’t last long. I knew that I had no right to be angry. I had no right to whine that it wasn’t fair. I went into the affair with my eyes open. Only I figured I would be the one who felt too much. It never once occurred to me that Chris might fall in love with me and want more.

The longer I thought about it, the sadder I became. I wasn’t sure how it happened. The man I loved had offered me everything and I choked. I didn’t even know why. Sure, I’d had my heart broken in the past but that had never stopped me before.