Pucker Up (9 page)

Dustin
reached for a hollow section of the railing and pulled out a small box.  “Stand
still.  You have a sliver.”

“The
porch bit me?”

“I
think I helped.”  He removed a pair of tweezers and approached her.  “Stand
still.”

His
fingers brushed against her back, and he heard her sharp intake of breath.  She
wasn’t any less affected than he was – it only made him want to press his lips
against her skin even more.  “I thought Andrews were gentlemen.”

“Whatever
gave you that idea?”  He yanked without warning, and she jumped.

“Absolutely
no clue.”  He pulled out the others in quick succession, placing a Band-Aid over
the small punctures when he was done.  The last time he’d tended to slivers the
girl had pigtails; his hands hadn’t shook then.

“There. 
Good as new.” 

Faith
turned around, and their eyes met for a moment before she looked away.  One
hand on her hip, the other covering her lips, she looked exactly how he felt – shocked,
sexed, and scared.  “I have to go.”

She
turned to leave, took two steps, and then returned, grabbing her shirt from the
floorboards.  She cast one long look at him as she slipped it back on.  “I have
to go,” she repeated, stomping off to her car.

He
watched her walk away, his mind more confused than before.  He thought he
wanted her to leave; he’d wanted nothing else since he saw her step out of her
car.  A couple of kisses and now it seemed it was the last thing he wanted. 
She reached her car, and he started for the door, knowing he didn’t have the
strength to watch her go, but stopped.  A smirk hit his face as he saw her slip
behind the wheel and realize she didn’t have any keys. 

He
waited five minutes before making his way over to her, never actually expecting
her to return to the house.  He leaned his hip against the passenger side door,
looking out at his driveway.  “What happened to ‘I have to go’?”

“I
still have to go.”  She paused and strummed her fingers against the steering
wheel.  “I’m just having a bit of trouble with the execution.”

“Thought
maybe you remembered you hadn’t said goodbye.”  He snapped his fingers and
slammed a hand down on the car for emphasis.  “That’s right; you’ve never been
all that good with goodbyes, have you?”

“This
isn’t really the time for – ”

“No?”
he asked.  “When’s the time then, Ally?”  He looked at her, but she wouldn’t
meet his eyes.  Maybe that was a good thing; her visit had already made him too
volatile as it was.  He dropped her purse onto the front seat and
straightened.  “Another decade it is then.”

Dustin
walked back to the house, waiting to hear the engine of her car spring to life,
and wondered how he could feel so angry and so empty all at the same time.  What
the hell was he supposed to do with that?  He was on the bottom porch step when
he heard it – the car sputtering but never starting.  She tried three times,
each sounding more desperate than the one before. 

Peter
stood silhouetted in the front door.  “Looks like we have a houseguest.”

Faith
stood at the window in Dustin’s office, staring at the tree across the yard.  She’d
tried to sleep, but as the silence of the house descended, she realized it was
not going to happen.  Some years she liked to be alone, but she’d already
decided this wasn’t one of them – that’s why she’d orchestrated a couple of
houseguests.  She’d wandered into his office looking for a drink, but the view
from the window was enough.

“What
are you doing in here?”  She jumped at the sound of his voice, so loud as it
fell into the silence of the night.  His tone didn’t sound angry, just curious.

She
raised a hand to her face, wiping away the tears, and hoped there were no
remnants in her voice.  “Looking for a drink.”

“Milk’s
in the fridge.” 

His
tone was mildly chiding, mildly amused, and she smiled, chancing a look at him
over her shoulder.  “Not that kind of drink.”

“I
think I can help with that.”   Dustin waved her to the window seat as he
crossed the room to the credenza behind his desk.  He turned away from her,
needing to take a deep breath before he reached for the glasses.  He’d come
downstairs for the same reason, but finding her in the middle of the room had
made him drunker than the whole tumbler of scotch would have.

He’d
given her an old t-shirt to sleep in, and memories assaulted him seeing her
standing there, the fabric just barely covering the tops of her thighs.  Finding
her at the tree had blasted a hole inside of him, and things he hadn’t thought
of for a decade warred for his attention.  He didn’t like it – he’d kept them
locked away for a reason.

When
he turned back she’d folded herself into the corner, trying to look as small
and relaxed as possible.  He handed her a glass and then sat down, as far away
as he could get.  “You don’t have to stay,” she whispered.

He
took a sip then stared into the glass like it held the answer to an important
question.  “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Faith
inhaled sharply, and he chanced a look.  Unshed tears made her blue eyes look
even brighter than usual.  “Neither do I.”

“Then
cheers.”  He clinked the rim of his glass against hers and downed the rest of
the liquid.  After a moment’s hesitation, she threw her head back and emptied
hers in one swallow.  “Well, that’s one way to get me to move,” he murmured,
crossing the room to refill the glasses.

“No
more for me, thanks.”  Faith stretched her legs across the cushions, her toes
just barely missing the opposite wall. 

“Still
have more self-control than me I see,” he said as he poured himself another.

“It’s
self-preservation – alcohol and me don’t get along so well.”

He
raised an eyebrow.  “I don’t remember that.”

Faith
sighed.  “Things change.”  Her voice was full of such regret and sadness, he
couldn’t stand it. 

Dustin
crossed the room in two steps and sat down beside her, picking up her outstretched
legs and placing them in his lap.  “What else has changed?”

She
tried to answer and ignore the flicker of awareness at his hand resting against
her skin.  “Everything,” she murmured.

His
forehead creased, a look of skepticism, and he ran his thumb over her toes. 
“Can’t be everything.  You’re still painting these bubblegum pink.”

“You
first.”

“Fine.” 
He drained the liquid from his glass and placed it on the windowsill.  “Let’s
see, what’s changed in the last decade.  I live with two women who have me
wrapped around their little fingers.  Got really good at braiding hair because
Peter is still useless when it comes to ‘styling’ as the girls say. Never put
that whole tinkering in the garage thing to rest; I’m a general contractor
now.  Andrews Construction and Consulting.  I sit behind my desk more often
than I like but still get to be outside and work with my hands.  And I haven’t
had a taste of lemon since you left.”

Faith
just barely stopped herself from recoiling at his last statement – there was
too much honesty and subtext there.  She hadn’t wanted to be alone, sure, but
she hadn’t wanted to be this present either.  She could feel him pulling her
down a road she was sure she’d get lost on.  She couldn’t handle lost again.

“Your
turn.”

“Uh,
let’s see.  I went vegan – ”

“I
already know that.  Next.”

“How
do you know that?”

Dustin
shifted restlessly before answering.  “Read it in a magazine.  Tell me things
I’m not gonna read in a magazine.”

“You
read about me in magazines?”

He
snorted.  “Peter likes to keep me up to date on your press, Ms. West.”  He
paused and his eyes turned serious.  “Tell me about you, Ally.”

When
he called her that, how could she not answer truthfully.  Damn this man.  “I
live with a rather haughty Persian cat who prefers my maid since I’m always on
the road.  I hire people to braid my hair, or straighten it actually since
curls are so last decade I’m told.  Never put that whole singing thing behind
me; I’m a bona fide pop sensation now.  I spend too much time on a bus and make
too few of my own decisions.  But I get to sing, and even now that I’m by
myself, there’s still thousands of people that want to listen.  And I have
lemons every chance I get.”

“You
smell like lemons.”

“It’s
my shampoo.”

“God,
I missed you.”  He said it so quietly she wondered if he knew he’d voiced the
thought aloud.

Faith
just shook her head and leaned back against the wall, not quite closing her
eyes so she could peer at him from underneath her eyelashes.  “What part?  The
crazy girl not grounded in reality.  The insane diva who always had to get her
way.  The spoiled brat who never learned responsibility.  Which one of those
did you miss?”

“The
dreamer who thought anything was possible.  The explorer that blazed her own
trail.  The adventurer that leapt without looking.  That girl, I miss her.”

“I
miss her too,” Faith agreed.  And then she watched as his hands moved slowly
from her foot to her ankle, slow strokes of his fingers fanning the flame of
desire she was sure she had under control.

“Think
I could convince that girl to come out and play?” Dustin whispered. 

His
hands continued to move up her body, skimming her calf and across her knee. 
“She doesn’t think that would be such a good idea.” 

Faith
almost swooned at the quick, half-cocked grin that appeared on his face, so
close to her own now he was all she could focus on.  “That never stopped her
before,” he said, looking down as his hand caressed her thigh, still crawling
higher.

“We
all have to grow up sometime, right?”  There wasn’t much conviction in her
voice.  Not when his thumb brushed against her hip.  Not when he made a low
growl at discovering it was bare. 

“Not
tonight we don’t.”  He leaned forward, his lips barely brushing her ear to
whisper, “Pucker up.”

His
flirty words made her gasp, remembering.  “I…” She wasn’t sure how to answer,
not sure if she was anything close to that girl anymore.  Her breath was coming
quickly, as if running a marathon and about to cross the finish line.  She
reached a hand up to his face, her fingertips lightly skimming the stubble on
his check.  Silence stretched between them, and he pulled back just far enough
for her to see disappointment enter his eyes, his hands retreating. 

“No,”
she said, trapping his hand against her thigh.  “I…” 

Dustin
didn’t let her finish.  His lips descended, capturing any sound she was
planning on making.  He wound a hand into her hair, pulling her as close as he
could, wanting to soak up the sweet taste of lemons she put on his tongue.  He
growled at the angle and pulled her closer, across his lap until she straddled
him.

Faith
couldn’t hold in a moan when his mouth slipped along the curve of her jaw, to
her ear, his teeth raking across it.  She reached a hand out and braced herself
against the window behind him, her eyes focusing once again on the lemon tree
silhouetted by the bright moon.  And then she didn’t care about anything else –
about any reasons or objections or warnings.  In that moment she wanted to soak
up all of the emotion Dustin was throwing at her and damn the consequences.

His
hands slipped under her shirt, caressing her back.  The feel of his calluses
had her moaning again.  She’d dated – bankers and businessmen, golfers and
government officials – but no one that worked with their hands.  Because she
went weak in the knees at men that labored for a living.  And had the body to
show for it – the rough hands, the corded muscles, the tan lines.  Every single
one of them reminded her of this man, so she avoided them, actively trying to
prevent wishing it was him that was touching her.  And now he was.

He
drew her shirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor, baring every inch
of her skin, and she trembled.  Not from the cold; Dustin was more than enough
to keep her warm.  From the simple act of being seen.  She couldn’t remember
the last time she welcomed being so exposed.  She spent half of her life
pretending to be open, the other half hiding away the parts she was ashamed
of.  The last time she hadn’t felt torn apart had been a decade ago, just like
this, Dustin’s arms around her, lips against her skin. 

His
teeth nipped at the column of her neck, his growls reminding her of all the
times she’d tried to forget.  She didn’t want a memory.  She wanted this
moment.  Right now.

Faith
stripped his shirt away in one quick movement.  His belt came next, collapsing
to the floor with a loud clang.   She leaned forward and kissed him with
abandon, lips and tongue tangling together until neither of them could
breathe. 

“Fuck
me,” he whispered, completely unbidden.  Wonder and disbelief shaded his voice,
unsure if this was even real.

“I’m
getting there,” she answered, her hands searching for his hips.

And
then he was inside of her.  She threw her head back and screamed, not able to
hold it in any longer.  A quick rhythm she shouldn’t have remembered, strokes
of his hand she shouldn’t have wanted.  “Yes!”  Finally, yes.  Everything,
yes.  The world was falling back into place.  She just… needed…

“What’s
wrong?  Is everything okay?”  The door to the study slammed open, and Peter
entered.  “What the hell?!  Oh God!”

Faith
saw his reflection in the window, holding a bat, and reality crashed back into
her.  She looked over her shoulder at him and saw only confusion.  How the hell
had she thought this was a good idea?  That any of this was a good idea?! 

She
grabbed her borrowed shirt from the floor and put it on, already in motion,
never daring to even look at Dustin.  “Couldn’t you have at least
tried
to be quiet?”  Peter backed up out of the way, and she ran up the stairs.  Just
as the fabric fell back into place, she looked up to see a shocked teenager
staring back at her.

Faith
slammed the door of her room and leaned against it for a moment before racing
towards the bathroom.  She turned on the shower and stepped under the spray,
the shock of the cold water making her numb.  She peeled off the soaked shirt
and shook, now trembling for completely different reasons. 

What
was she doing?!  They were essentially strangers, hadn’t seen each other in ten
years.  They couldn’t get through ten minutes of conversation without being at
each other’s throats.  She had divorce papers awaiting his signature in her
purse.  Jackson had been right; she never should have come back.

Faith
didn’t know how long she stood there, letting the water try and wash her away. 
The recriminating thoughts were on a loop, berating her foolishness and naiveté. 
When her teeth started chattering, skin soaked through with ice, she got out
and looked at herself, satisfied with the drowned rat she saw in the mirror. 
Nothing about her looked or felt attractive.  She committed the feeling to
memory, planning on bringing it into battle when she saw Dustin next.

She
dried off and glanced at her drenched shirt with distaste.  There was no way
she was putting that back on.  Well, she’d already streaked across the house
naked once tonight.  She could do it again from bathroom to bed; the moon
afforded enough light she didn’t even need to turn on the lamp.  Once under the
covers she held her breath, listening for any arguing downstairs.  She cringed,
thinking about having to face them tomorrow…

Faith
went still, her senses suddenly on high-alert.  Something wasn’t right.  A
familiar hand reached towards her, skimming over her hip, and she exhaled
sharply.  Lips brushed her shoulder ever so softly.  “I thought you were never
going to come out of there.”

“I
almost didn’t.”

Dustin
turned her from her side, laying her back against the pillows.  “That would
have been a shame.”  She couldn’t see him, only his silhouette in the darkness,
but didn’t need to.  His head dipped down towards her but he never made
contact, his forehead just inches from her own.  He wasn’t touching her with
anything but his gaze.