At Any Moment (Gaming The System Book 3) (17 page)

“To be honest, the memory is starting to fade…”

Her eyes widened. “You haven’t gotten any since you’ve been sick?”

“Who can blame him? I’m starting to look like Skeletor, after all.”

She snorted. “Oh, come on, you are still
so
pretty.”

“I’m a far cry from my ideal weight…”

“Girl, your ideal weight is Adam Drake on top of you.”

In spite of myself, I laughed. Kat didn’t know about the added complications—the pregnancy, the agonizing decision to terminate, the abortion itself. I didn’t even like to dwell on those things, let alone discuss them. Aside from the two of us, only Heath, my mom and Peter knew. And, in my opinion, that was far too many…I swallowed those usual dark feelings and tucked them aside. I’d become quite practiced at it.

“Yeah, maybe he thinks my body parts will fall off like my hair,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

“But like, there’re other ways, you know. You don’t have to be, like, going at it like animals in order to have a little fun.”

I watched her, considering that the highlight of my sex life these days was getting myself off when I couldn’t stand waiting any more. Or the only time I got felt up was at the doctor’s office during a routine examination. The subject of my sex life was more than depressing.

“Well, like, how about oral? I mean… you have
no
hair on your body at all, right? Not even…down south?”

“I’m bald everywhere, except my eyebrows and eyelashes.”

“Consider the advantages to this… I mean aside from the puking, of course, you don’t have to shave! No waxing your legs. No Brazilians. You’re as clean as a whistle down there. This should be like the heyday of getting some good cunnilingus in. You don’t have to worry about him hacking on hairballs like a cat or getting razor burn.”

I gasped and then choked out a laugh at the mental image her words evoked. I tried to ignore the flush of heat that rose from the center of my being as I pictured Adam’s dark head between my legs, licking and sucking, bringing me to climax. God, I could use some of that. I really could.

“And, you know, when you are better, you’ll get some reconstruction work done, eh? You could, like, ask for any size you want.”

I raised my brows and then threw a self-conscious glance at my less-than-impressive chest. “I’m a perfectly respectable B cup. And besides, the surgery was only on one breast and I have to keep them the same size, of course.”

“Bor. Ring,” Kat replied, her deep blue eyes brimming with humor. “No, you see, this is how you play this. You want a nice C or even a D. He will go bonkers for that. More than enough to make a handful! You can get them both fluffed up and since everyone knows what you are going through, you wouldn’t get judged for going a little bigger. Or even a
lot
bigger.”

I shook my head. “I don’t get reconstructive surgery for a while yet. I’m not even letting him see these babies until then.”

Kat’s ginger brows shot up in her forehead. “You aren’t going to let him see or touch the ladies and yet you are wondering why you aren’t getting any? Girlfriend, I bet if you walked into his room tonight and pulled your shirt up, he’d be all over you.”

I thought about that for a moment. About the angry scar slicing from my armpit to my nipple and the puckered flesh underneath. I was repulsive and the thought of it repulsed him, too. He hadn’t actually seen, though he’d come close. But he’d gone out on dates with Jordan’s model friends while we’d been broken up. There was no telling how far he’d gotten or if he’d gotten breast gropage in the meantime. That he would even remotely be interested in mine didn’t even occur to me, though the thought stung more than a little.

“Maybe.”

Kat watched me, her gaze softening, her jokey manner fading. “Try it. I bet he will…”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She stayed a few more hours. We actually had broken out our laptops so I could show her my work on the secret quest, but I was well and truly at an impasse.

When Adam got home, she opted to leave of her own accord. When she hugged me goodbye, she mimed pulling her shirt up and then pointed at Adam’s back, nodding knowingly. I grinned and told her she was an ass and kissed her goodbye.

And that night, I almost did it. When he walked me to my room after we’d spent the evening watching more episodes of
Farscape
. I hesitated at my doorway, turning to him like a shy teenager wondering if her first date was going to kiss her on the porch. I wanted more than a kiss. I wanted him to push me up against the wall, press his hard body to mine, pull my clothes off, push into me. He’d done it before and the memories of his touch burned me. I missed it. I missed him.

I went to kiss him and his mouth landed on my cheek. I clamped my arms around his neck, kissing him at the base of his throat. “Adam,” I whispered. “I want you. Tonight.”

He tensed. It was for a split second before it was gone. He said nothing, stroking along my spine with one hand. “I’m really tired tonight—”

He didn’t want me. I swallowed and almost pulled back, almost pulled up my shirt like Kat had suggested. But it was very difficult to change Adam’s mind once he set it on something. And he seemed dead set against touching me. I just wished I knew why. Was he really that scared about us making the same mistakes? Or was it his anger, still, at the circumstances around our breakup? Was it fear that he’d hurt me? My stomach dropped…was it resentment over the pregnancy and the abortion? Or was he just not interested?

“I know you said you wanted to go slow but I didn’t think that meant at a glacial pace…”

A smile tugged at his mouth and he ran the back of his finger across my cheek. I swallowed and closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Mia. I promise we’ll hang out all day tomorrow. I’m not going in to work again until next week.”

I blew out a breath and he bent and kissed me again, this time on the mouth, as if that would appease me. I almost—almost—grabbed his head and forced the issue. He had to be at least a little horny, tired or no.

I had no idea and no clue how to even go about finding out what his basic issue was. I could ask him, of course. But would I get the truth or some bullshit answer about how he was too tired to answer me? I let out a small sigh and pulled away, planting a brave smile on my face. “I’m sorry about the long work days. I know you were just trying to get over those and it seems like with the time you take with me while I’m sick, you have to work twice as hard when I’m feeling okay.”

“I don’t mind. I want to be here for you.”

“Kat can be with me now, on those days. It can’t be pleasant listening to me puke my guts up all day.” And probably the biggest turnoff ever. How could I possibly expect him to desire me after that?

He frowned. “She can be here for you, too. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be. You are my top priority.”

“I love you,” I said, my voice growing more and more quiet as the conversation continued.

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, my chin. “I love you, too. Goodnight, sweet Mia.”

I slumped into my room but didn’t close the door. I didn’t close the door these days, full of the hope that he’d be tempted to slip inside. There were enough barriers between us. I didn’t need the physical ones. I knew that if I lay down on the bed now, I’d be tied up in my own sexual frustration for hours. So instead, I went into the bathroom—leaving that door open too—and filled up the large overflow bathtub with hot water.

After a few minutes of soaking, I fantasized about him coming into the bathroom, pulling his clothes (for some reason they were wet and clinging to his muscular frame) from his body and sinking into the bathtub with me. He’d rub me down with his soapy hands until every inch of me was tingling and screaming for his touch. And then he’d pull me on top of him, enter me while putting his mouth on my breasts.

I moaned and put my hand between my legs, picturing his beautiful body. The last time I’d seen him naked was when we’d been together in Vegas. But that time, it hadn’t been about making love. There’d been very little love that night. That had been us coming together because we couldn’t stay away. It had been explosive and erotic and utterly intoxicating. But it had resulted in disaster. A moment that had forever changed our lives and that had possibly broken us. And that, at least, had been all my fault.

Getting myself off these days was always tinged with that guilt—as if some part of myself didn’t believe I deserved to feel sexual pleasure ever again. I still did it but I couldn’t enjoy it the way I had before. The way we had enjoyed each other. And it occurred to me then that this might be the real reason that Adam couldn’t touch me. Because of that last time.

And now it was occurring to me that that last time might possibly have been our last time ever.

Chapter Eighteen
Adam

After brushing my teeth and changing into my pajamas, my thoughts roiling with our conversation over and over again, I’d decided to go back into Emilia’s room, just for a little while. I hadn’t touched her in any sort of erotic way for over three months. Sure, I was starved for it, and apparently she was too. I’d been keeping her at arm’s length but I could tell she was growing exasperated.

We’d have to have a talk about it sometime soon. But for now, I trusted myself to give her what she needed without allowing it to go too far. We weren’t ready for that yet.
I
wasn’t ready. And fuck what my body wanted because I knew the rest of me wasn’t there yet.

I padded down the hallway and slipped into her dim room, glancing at her empty bed. The light was on in the bathroom and I could hear the sound of splashes from the bathtub. I took a step toward the bathroom before I remembered how shy she was about me seeing her altered body now. I froze next to the doorway, pausing with indecision until I heard the sigh. I took a step back but didn’t move again when she let out a very quiet moan. I closed my eyes, well familiar with those sounds.

Emilia was getting herself off, likely out of desperation because I wouldn’t touch her. And though it felt like an invasion of privacy to listen at the doorway, I didn’t move, transfixed, my own body reacting to her sighs and moans, remembering how it felt to be the one to evoke that pleasure in her. I loved being in control of her body, being the one responsible for those sounds, that gratification. Was she fantasizing about me while she touched herself?

I got hard, remembering that it had been just as long for me as it had been for her. And every bit of me wanted to march into that bathroom, pull her wet, naked body against me and do deliciously dirty things to her. But I didn’t move. Instead I leaned against the wall and listened like a perv voyeur. It didn’t take her long before she was gasping quietly with her release. There was nothing explosive or overwhelming about it. Just a natural expression, probably little more exciting than a sneeze or a cough. I went to leave, to give her back her privacy but couldn’t move a muscle when I heard the first sob.

Her crying was louder than her orgasm had been. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling an inexplicable tightening in my chest. She sniffed and sniveled and sobbed and I felt sick inside. Because I was powerless to change what she was feeling

Was it rejection? Was it loneliness? Was I confirming for her that I found her ugly? She was likely running every scenario inside her head but the real one—the deep, bone-wracking guilt that permeated every breath, every heartbeat. The real reason I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Because the last time we’d been together had not been an act of love on my part, but an act of possession. Like a caveman, I’d staked my claim, declared her mine over and over again and taken her. Even the memory of it made my body flush with arousal but my gut writhe in disgust. The things that night had led to had threatened to take her life.

I stepped quietly out of her room and receded back to my own like a whipped dog. If I’d had a tail, it would likely have been wedged firmly between my legs.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep very well, but I was determined that we would make it through this. We could talk about it. So the next day I asked chef to pack us a picnic lunch that Emilia could manage to keep down. Simple, organic foods and the requisite ginger chips which, together with the anti-nausea medicine, worked well in keeping her from being too miserable in between her rounds of chemotherapy.

We’d go out on the Duffy boat, putter around the Back Bay, eat a bit of lunch, maybe get a famed frozen banana at the Balboa Fun Zone before heading back home. With a cheerful smile, Emilia donned a knit cap, wearing her hooded sweatshirt over some jeans, though it was not that cool. She had to be warm but there was no way she was exposing her bald head to the world. Even out here where no one would really notice.

We passed numerous boats docked in their slips, sea lions lazing in the sun on top of the buoy at the entrance to the ocean. Emilia watched the stretch of mansions go by, remarking on the different, lavish homes belonging to the rich or famous of Southern California.

And we talked about everything. It was like old times. And she smiled and laughed like nothing wrong or awkward had passed between us the night before.

“So Heath was telling me about this new thing… about the
Star Wars
movies.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “What, about the new one coming out next year?”

“Not really. But, the good news is that after the prequels, it probably can’t suck any worse, so there’s that. And even though all the original actors are pretty old, at least they’ll be in it. So we get to see what Han Solo will be like as a grandpa.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds exciting.”

“Heath was telling me that there’s a new canon among the first six films. That people should be watching them in what he called ‘machete order.’”

“Machete order? What the hell is that?”

“It means you behave as if Episode One had never been made.”

I raised my brows. “Well, that sounds promising. And does this machete order involve hacking out Jar Jar Binks from the other episodes with a machete?”

She laughed. “Sometimes the way your mind works really disturbs me.”