Giving In: The Sandy Cove Series (Book 1) (16 page)

Now I think Dr. Goldberg is the one who needs to be on crazy pills.

“Oh, no way! I didn’t mean for the kiss to end up like the way it did, and I didn’t set out for it to happen, either.”

Or did I? Was it premeditated?

Still feeling the after effects of the kiss, I question myself.

“Harlow, I’m not saying you set out to kiss him, but maybe in your subconscious mind it was… the logical thing to do. I hear you speak so highly of the man. Although I am a licensed doctor and therapist, I am also a man who has been happily married to the same woman for thirty five years, and I know how women think.”

Here’s Dr. Goldberg giving me his take on the female psyche. Typical male.

“I understand that, Dr. Goldberg, and Cruz is becoming a near and dear friend, and we have a past, but I’m not sure in the back of my mind I wanted it to happen.”

This time.

I hear him clear his throat.

“You once shared some sort of intimacy with the man and clearly you have not forgotten it. Can you open your mind to the fact that there may be more here between you both? Is it out of the realm of possibilities?”

It has to be, doesn’t it?

My lips still burn. Is that normal?

We are friends who were one-time lovers. A case of at the right place at the right time, I suppose. Besides, even entertaining the thought is out of the question, not even sure I would. No. No, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. We are developing a friendship, a mutual understanding that it is possible for a woman and a man who have slept together, but no longer have the desire to be with one another in that way again can, in fact be friends.

I’m too damaged anyway.

Nobody wants me.

“No, Dr. Goldberg, I like being on my own. I like the person I am becoming. I like myself again.”

I lie a little because I no longer can listen to his psychobabble.

It’s too hard to pretend to not care how damaged I actually am, but with Cruz, I forget that. Maybe he’s bringing me out of that way of thinking. I need to explain it all to him, and I know he will listen, but only when the time is right.

CHAPTER 8

All the worlds a stage, and I’m the best actor around.

Cruz~

No matter what my dick is doing right now, which is a lot, I still can’t get the image of what happened at the bar out of my head. It was like Harlow was a different person. She was like that person last year in the bathroom, taking charge, dominating the situation, stepping outside of that God damn shell of hers.

I never said I liked it, though.

My mind is still reeling from the time her eyes changed their shape, the color blue turning a bleak gray when she saw him walk through that door. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it. I’ve never seen eyes do what hers did. There was nothing there when she spotted him. They were lifeless, like when her focus was on him, he sucked the light out of them. It scared me and as fucked up as that sounds coming from me, it did.

And I don’t get scared.

I’ve got this girl, Leilani, who I met at the bar the other night, riding Morty so hard right now, I may need to soak him in a tub of ice tomorrow. For some strange reason, I can’t get Harlow’s kiss off my mind. The way she grabbed the back of my neck and forced her lips on mine, the sensation I felt going through my body just from that is enough for me not to give two shits that I have this animalistic, exotic looking piece of ass going bunking bronco on me.

And that scares me even more than the look in Harlow’s eyes.

I don’t get scared. I don’t feel things. I was born and raised on the streets by a crack-head. My father left when I was two. I never knew him. I only knew the Johns that walked in and out of my mother’s life. She used to make me call them uncle. Uncle, my ass. The final straw was when I was ten and one of them told me that my mother wouldn’t suck his dick, so I had to step into her place. I threatened him with a butcher knife and hung his bag of crack over the toilet, threatening to flush it and slit his throat if he even tried to touch me. Never saw that fucker again.

My crack-head mother blamed me for ruining her life once he left, of course. All she ever cared about was the drugs. She didn’t love me or my brother. She didn’t show compassion or care about us. We were basically on our own. Bella’s, my sister in law’s, parents would make sure we were fed on holidays and would check on us frequently. They were our neighbors and looked out for us. I wish we could have lived with them. Not like we saw a lot of our mother. During the day, she slept off her high and at night, she was out selling herself or trying her damnedest to score.

We lived in filth, felt like filth, we were just that.

Filth.

Feelings weren’t expressed in my house. I feel what I want to feel, physically, not mentally. Like I can feel this girl’s pussy going up and down on my cock, and it feels good, don’t get me wrong, but that’s it. I don’t feel like kissing her, touching her skin, feeling her lips on me. I just want to get off and show her the door.

I don’t show emotions, but for some reason, I showed some tonight. It was a mixture of them. The look on her face, the way her body tensed, the way she looked at me, the way she… Kissed me. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I’m not prepared for anything that has to do with Harlow, but the one thing… the one fucking thing that still has me spinning is she let him call her baby, and she didn’t bat an eyelash when he did. There was no, ‘don’t call me baby’, she just let him say that word. The word she hates, no let me rephrase that… she fucking despises. I say it to her almost every day without even thinking first and every day she corrects me in her teacher voice, like scolding a child. Except with that douche bag, it was like it was just another word. When I say it, the woman shoots fire from her eyes. I mean it. It’s like the word is poison. I don’t get it. I don’t get her.

Am I even supposed to?

I can’t come. The faster she rides me, the more I think about tonight. I should just fake it, but how am I going to fake it with a condom on? It’s dark in here so maybe I should at least try.

“Oh, Cruz, you are so fucking big. That’s it baby. Give me what I want.” Breathlessly she tells me to fuck her harder.

It does nothing to change my thoughts. All that dirty talk coming from her mouth actually takes away from my hard-on, plus I’m not even doing anything. She’s the one fucking me for Christ’s sake.

“Are you close, Cruz? I’m gonna come baby. Here I go. Oh God, yes! Yes! Yes!”

Now I’ve heard that somewhere before. A lot, but I’m going to put on my acting skills.

Ready.

Here goes.

“Oh yea, baby. Here I go, yea. Oh God, yea!”

I buck up and down, once, twice, and that’s all she wrote folks.

Faked it.

Never in a million years would I have thought I’d have to fake it with someone who looks like her. Perfect tits and ass. I deserve a round of applause for that performance. An Academy Award even. She needs to get off me, not nuzzle her face in my neck. I need to pull out and run to the bathroom and flush this empty rubber down the toilet.

I somehow manage to wiggle my body from underneath her, practically rolling off the bed onto the floor. I almost feel the need to run to the bathroom.

“Where you going, baby?” She says to me in a sultry voice.

She called me baby. It makes me sick.

Irony.

“Bathroom. I’m not feeling so good, so… Um… this was fun. You know where the door is, right?” I don’t even give her a chance to say anything, and I don’t take a glance back at her after I basically tell her to get lost. My head is not where it should be. Where it should be is in between that chick’s legs, but I’m not feeling it.

I lean against the bathroom door for support, flick on the light, and rip the rubber off my dick so fast, like a Band-Aid. I can’t catch my breath from the smart of it.

Sorry, Morty.

I wait until I hear the door close and exhaling never felt so good. The water I splash on my face both shocks me and suffocates me, and I know I need air. I have no idea what time it is, or if anyone is home. Didn’t notice any sounds coming from the living room or any doors slamming. I didn’t hear any bodies slamming, for that matter, either. Not that what was going on in my room a little bit ago stopped me from paying attention. That little tryst didn’t even hold my interest long enough even to realize what was, if at all, anything was going on in my house. The thoughts of Harlow took the place of it. There could be a hundred people in that living room right now for all I know. Not that I even care. I bust open the bathroom door, and go to my room and put on a pair of gym shorts. I’m too hot right now to stick anything else on.

The house is dark and quiet. I really don’t think anyone is here. If they are, they’re all passed out. I step out onto the deck, the salt air hitting my nostrils. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, running my hands through this unruly hair of mine. I lean on the railing of the deck, scratch at my chin, feeling the stubble, and wondering why Harlow reacted that way to that guy.

Chad Knox.

The name Harlow whispered in her sleep a few nights ago.

Why did she say she was sorry that night to him while she was sleeping?

“So I saw that your company left you.” Startled, I jump when I hear her voice. I turn to see Harlow sitting in a chair next to the door leading to her house. Her face is shadowed by the overhang of the tiny awning that covers the sliding door. She’s wrapped up in a blanket, mimicking a cocoon, and all I can see are her toes peeking out from underneath it.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

I clench my chest with my hand, right over my heart. The beat of it is fast, and it takes me a moment to catch my breath.

“What the hell are you doing out here this late? Where is everybody?” I ignore her previous question. Maybe she’ll forget she asked me, and I can pretend like it never happened.

I slowly make my way over to where she is, but I stop, turn and lean my back against the railing.

“Bed,” she plainly replies.

An awkward moment of silence comes between us, and I really don’t know what to say. Wait, scratch that… I have plenty to say. A million questions fill my head, but I am deciding not to ask them now. I’m trying to avoid looking in her direction, although I’m curious to know what time it is, and why while everyone else is sleeping, she’s awake and out here.

“So why are you out here?” I ask.

She sighs and rises from her chair. The light of the moon and one streetlight brings her face into view. Her hair is twisted upwards on top of her head, tendrils touching the sides of her face. She’s wearing her glasses, her hot-for-teacher glasses.

Sexy as shit glasses.

When she steps closer, more into the light, I see her eyes. They’re red. Her cheeks are tear streaked, and I want to grab her and ask what the fuck is wrong with her. What went down tonight? Why did she kiss me? I’m playing a role, the role of the uncaring person who doesn’t give a fuck. I need to keep my questions to a minimum.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says as she ironically yawns.

“Oh, yea, why’s that?”

She wraps the blanket around her a bit more and comes to lean herself next to me.

“It was too noisy to sleep.”

I’m not following her. It’s as quiet as a church mouse out here. The streets are empty and everyone else is asleep. Do I ask what was so noisy that it kept her awake? Another moment of silence blankets us until I realize what may have kept her awake.

Aw, shit.

“The noises coming from the other side of my wall in my bedroom kept me up. A picture fell off my wall actually. Hit me right here.”

She points to her forehead, and I see a tiny red bump that has formed on it. My face heats red.

“I met your friend… Leilani is it? I ran into her as she was leaving your house.”

I knew it. The girl was insatiable and fucking loud. Harlow’s room and my room are right next to each other. Her bed and my bed on the same walls in two different houses, and I made that picture fall and hit her. Well, not me, but the chick.

Now play it cool, man. Don’t give her any other information. Not any more than she needs to know. Don’t fuck it up.

Do not fuck this up.

“Oh, yea. She’s a fucking mad woman in the sack.”

Too late.

She’s laughs in a cynical way. “Oh, I bet. You should be exhausted right now after the sex Olympics you just performed.”

Damn it, she heard us. That just solidified that. It wasn’t even me making all that noise. I just kept my eyes closed the whole time, thinking about Harlow.

I mean… I… I was thinking about what happened tonight and how upset she looked. That’s all it was. I was distracted by that. Harlow’s becoming a friend to me, like Porter and Max. I’d be concerned about them too if I noticed something odd.

Concern. That’s a new feeling for me. Nonetheless, I start to feel it.

I’m not going to apologize for keeping her awake, so I’m just going to ignore her statement.

“Well since we are both wide awake at… I don’t know what time it is, but want to go down to the dock?”

She pushes her glasses up on her nose a bit more, and shuffles her slippered feet towards the deck steps. She stands there.

“What are you waiting for, come on. It’s almost four, so the sun should be up in a little while.”

See how this girl confuses me? I can’t figure her out.

I follow her down to the dock where we take our usual seats. The air is cool, feeling good on my face. It’s so quiet here. Almost eerie. She pulls her blanket closer to her and snuggles down into the chair. No words are spoken, and I get the feeling she wants me to say the first word… but I won’t. We just sit and stare at the calm waters of the bay, the outside light from another house reflecting on it.

This silence is killing me, I mean killing me. If she doesn’t say something soon, I’m going to jump in that water and drown myself.

This is agonizing. I should have just gone to bed.

Another minute, another second, another millisecond and I’m going to fucking scream.