The Opposite of Nothing (9 page)

When they both finished, he cleared their plates. She heard running water and the clank of silverware.

“Please don’t do the dishes too. You already rescued dinner. I’ll wash up.”

“Come dry.”

Her very full belly somehow managed to flip at his command. She could do that.

The sight of Tayber leaning into the counter, up to his elbows in soapy water, intent on his task, was ridiculously sexy and painfully domestic. The sharpness of her desire surprised her. She’d be fantasizing about household chores for the rest of her life. He tilted his pelvis toward her, and it took her a moment to realize he was offering her the dish towel still tucked into his pants. She went hot all over.
Jesus.
And hesitated, before tugging the edge furthest from his crotch.

A bang on the door startled them both. The only person who would knock on her door without calling first was standing in front of her.

“Tayber, I know you’re in there.”

He tensed, then paled, dropping the pan he was scrubbing.

“You weren’t expecting company, were you? Who is it?” She twisted the towel into a knot.

“That is my fucking brother.” He shook his hands, spraying droplets of water all over the kitchen, and stormed the door. Leaving the security chain in place, he cracked it open.

“You gonna let me in?”

“Fuck no. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” He slammed the door shut before his brother could protest.

“I’m sorry about this, Callie. We’ve been—” He slumped against the wall and looked up like he was searching the ceiling for answers. “—estranged for a while.”

“What can I do? How can I help?” She knew too much to trust herself with anything more than platitudes. How had his brother found him here?

“You can’t. I’ll go talk to him. Can’t avoid him now.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. I know I said our pasts don’t matter, but mine does when he shows up on your doorstep.”

“Try and stop me.” She would be there for him, for this. She wouldn’t leave him. She pressed her lips into a thin, hard line.

He scrubbed his face with a damp hand, fingers still pruney, and shrugged. Defeated.

She followed him out of the apartment and down the stairs.

* * *

A
aron paced the sidewalk, a heavier, craggier version of Tayber. He crushed a cigarette under his boot when Tayber slammed the exterior door.

He hopped off the stoop, skipping the steps, charging toward Aaron and leaving Callie behind. “How’d you find me?”

“Since you wouldn’t return my calls or my emails, I went to your dorm. Your empty dorm.” Aaron closed the distance between them and poked Tayber in the shoulder. “Some guy in the hallway said he helped you move and told me I might find you here.”

“Don’t touch me. You’re not welcome here.” Tayber shoved him.

Aaron stumbled back. “Doesn’t being brothers count for anything?”

“It stopped counting when you didn’t pick up the phone for eight years. Where’d you go? The fucking moon? You couldn’t even send a postcard?” Tayber’s voice, strained from yelling, cracked on the last question. She wanted to go to him, break up the fight, make this hurting stop, but she couldn’t bring herself to step off the porch. He shoved his brother again but Aaron didn’t budge. He grabbed Tayber’s arms and flung them away.

“So you’re going to punish me now by doing the same thing? Still trying to be like big brother.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Tayber hissed.

“You aren’t? Looks that way to me. Dropping out of school. Playing house with your girlfriend. Running away.”

“Fuck you.” Tayber spit on the sidewalk and threw a punch that cracked against Aaron’s jaw. Suddenly, there was no more yelling. Just grunting and grappling and the two of them rolling around on the ground. Callie clutched her phone, ready if not willing to call the police. She’d never had to call the police before.

Aaron twisted Tayber’s arm behind his back and pinned him facedown on the ground. The sick thud of Tayber’s forehead against the concrete made her cry out. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop it right now! You promised him you’d be back. Why didn’t you go back for him?” She raced forward and pounded her fists into Aaron’s back.

He ignored her completely, focused solely on Tayber. “Shit. I’m sorry, Tay. I didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t drop out. I moved.”

“You really didn’t drop out?” Aaron released his grip and lifted himself off of Tayber, rocking back on his heels.

“Like you care.” Tayber pushed off the ground and cast his heavy-lidded eyes in her direction like she could absolve him for his weakness.

“I care, Tayber. I care. You know I had to go. You have to know that. I was a fuck-up. I’d have ruined you anyway.” Aaron backed off further, touching his thumb to his jaw like it might already be swelling. Tayber rolled his shoulder and shook his head. He looked small next to his brother.

Tayber wiped the cut on his forehead with the cuff of his shirt. “Get out of here, Aaron. I can’t deal with you.”

“I’ll leave you alone for now, but we aren’t done. We both need to cool off. I’ll be back in a few days. You can count on it.”

Tayber snorted. “I’ll hold my breath.”

Aaron flinched but didn’t say anything. He just kept walking.

Callie led Tayber back upstairs and directed him to sit on the end of her bed while she gathered supplies. He was wounded. She’d take the futon tonight.

She grabbed some napkins from the kitchen and then rummaged in the medicine cabinet for ointment. She’d seen some recently. Was it behind the mascara or under the cotton swabs? No, tucked into an empty box of Band-Aids.

“Callie, how did you know what Aaron promised me?” Tayber called out.

She dropped the box into the toilet.
Sploosh.
Her heart, already pounding, lurched into a frantic arrhythmia. “I just assumed. You said he taught you to cook before he left. And then you were angry. I don’t know.” If Tayber found out about her deception like this there would be no hope for them. Not as friends. Not as anything.

H
er dark hair shaded her face as she leaned over him, but he could see her crinkled nose. He didn’t have it in him to protest or ask questions. He felt wrung out.

“Aaron split your eyebrow.”

“He split a lot of things. He’s good at splitting.”

Holding a wad of damp napkins with one hand, she reached for his jaw. She’d been so fierce. His protector and, now, his nurse. Bile rose in the back of his throat.
You’re fucking weak, man.
She clenched her teeth and sucked in a breath, poised to strike with antiseptic. He flinched.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not, I just...I’ll do it myself.” He snatched the napkins and pressed them against the tiny cut. The sting was nothing compared to the flash of pity in her eyes before she turned away.

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?”

Would he? Probably better to ask
could he?
He wanted his brother back, but he didn’t know how to stop being angry. “I don’t know.”

“You hit your head pretty hard. I’ll go get ice.”

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm and pulled back, but she wasn’t moving yet. She stumbled, landing across his lap with a gasp. The warm weight of her was an unexpected balm, but her body was tense, her eyes were wide and searching.

“I don’t need ice. I need you.” And before he could stop himself, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Hard. Pain bloomed and receded as she softened against him. She tasted like home.
Why did we waste so much time not kissing? Not touching?
Slipping his fingers under the soft fabric of her t-shirt, he circled his thumb over the smooth plane of her belly. She squirmed in his lap, clutching a handful of his shirt.

“You’re hurt, and you’re pissed. You don’t want me like this.”

“I want you exactly like this.” He bent to kiss her again, but hesitated, captivated by her sigh. It wasn’t her usual eye-rolling, you’re-being-an-idiot sigh. It was this tiny, involuntary exhalation. A gasping breath. Sharp and hot and so fucking sexy he wanted to dispense with preliminaries and pin her to the bed. He’d heard that sigh before on other lips, but he’d never heard it from Callie. He wanted to hear it again, he wanted to swallow it. He traced a finger over her hipbone and slipped his tongue along the curve of her bottom lip. “Tell me, how do I want you?”

“You’re concussed.” She released her grip, smoothing the crease she’d made with a tentative caress, but didn’t pull away. He rested his forehead against hers and took a ragged breath, inhaling the sugar-apple scent of her shampoo. Shifting, trying and failing to hide his erection, only made things worse. He didn’t want to push her, but his body had other ideas. Her face flushed.

“Then keep me awake.”

She squirmed again. On purpose? He froze, terrified that if he moved, she’d bolt. If this was going to happen, she’d need to make the move. And if she was half as turned on as he was, he wouldn’t have to wait long. Her brows knit together in a question, and all the doubt and agony he felt was there on her face. But worse, because he knew her too well, knew what she thought of him. She wanted this kiss, but she didn’t want to want it. She didn’t want to want him.

“This will change everything.” She breathed the words against his skin.

“Everything has already changed.” She’d seen him empty handed. Fighting in the street like gutter trash. He’d told her about his hungry nights alone, and she hadn’t looked at him like he was garbage. Callie quieted a place inside him he hadn’t even known was noisy, muffled the anger he carried around with him every day. He could do this with her—be real. Finally, she let her hand land on his cheek, warm and dry, drawing him closer. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged, sending electric jolts over his scalp. He was lost.

With that first kiss, they’d breached a divide. But this kiss, this kiss was a cool glass of water in the desert. No, a sudden deluge. He drowned in the warm slide of her tongue, the rhythmic rocking of her ass against his cock. Her nipple hardened against his palm and he nearly came right then. Like he’d never touched a breast before. Well, he’d never touched hers.

“Callie.” Her name was a rasp in his throat. A guttural moan. How many times had he said it like it meant nothing? Now it was a plea. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

He rolled her onto her back, poised over her with his leg wedged between her thighs and one hand gripping the waistband of her jeans. One tug and he’d have them open. Another tug and he could have them down over her ass. They’d crossed so many lines today, what difference did this one make? Why hesitate? He skimmed his thumb over her belly and savored her shiver. Soon he’d taste that spot. He tugged again, and she lifted her hips in answer, grinding herself against his knee. Fuck. This was really happening. He’d never seen anything hotter than Callie undone, biting her bottom lip and groaning beneath him. Wanting. He wanted too.

When she slipped her fingers under his shirt he hissed. Her hands were cold against his heated skin. Cold but soft, pushing his shirt away to explore the expanse of his abdomen. Impatient to have her touch every possible inch, he grabbed the hem and yanked the shirt over his head, launching it across the room. She scrambled up to do the same, pressing the rough lace of her bra against his bare chest. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, he stifled a groan. He needed her naked. Soon, or this would be over before it got started. Fumbling the clasp, he cursed. She swatted his hands away and undid the damn thing herself.

He slipped the straps down her shoulders and pulled back to let the cups fall away.
Damn.
Her breasts were perfect. Small and high with dark nipples he couldn’t wait to taste. Cupping them both, he thumbed the stiff peaks until she arched into his touch. Head bent, he drew one into his mouth. One flick of his tongue, and her mewling moans were replaced by a sharp gasp. He did it again. And again. Anything to hear that sound.

“Tayber.”

His name on her lips was like a fist around his cock. And then her hands replaced the ghostly touch of voice. She gripped him, stroked him through the thin fabric of his shorts. No hesitation, only possession. Sure and right. They weren’t friends. They weren’t even people. They were just skin and mouths and lust. He popped the fly of her jeans and tugged hard as she shimmied against him, helping to strip the ridiculously tight pants down her thighs. Finally, he could get his hands on her. Slip his fingers into the hot silk of her cunt. Find the hard bud of her clit and circle it with his thumb until she quaked against him.

The scratch of her nails against his waist made him jump. She clawed his shorts down, exposing his cock inch by inch, and grabbed his bare length.

“No, I’m too close.” He covered her hand with his own, guided it up and down once, before pulling it away.

He stood to finish stripping, buying himself some time to gain control. He grabbed the ankles of her jeans and tugged them the rest of the way free, exposing the curve of her thighs, dimpled knees, smooth calves. His cock ached, insistent and pulsing. She crossed her legs, obscuring the dark thatch he’d touched moments before, turning her body ever so slightly, hiding from his view. He wanted to pin her arms above her head and
look
. Nothing hidden. Memorize every inch, exposed just for him. It was not helping his control issues. He groaned.

“Have you changed your mind?” she whispered.

How could she even think that?

“I was trying to cool off a little. I’m not gonna last long.”

“That’s okay.”

Jesus, he’d never said anything like that before. He’d never really cared before. He didn’t just want to touch her. He wanted to touch her
right
. Kneeling on the bed, he traced the tender skin behind her knee and skimmed his hands up to her waist. “No. It isn’t. Tell me what you like. Show me.”

A seductive blush spread across her chest, up her neck and over her cheeks like a road map for his lips. He followed it, tasting dips and hollows, nipping her earlobe, before finding her mouth with his own. He pulled back and propped himself up with one arm. He watched her face as he worked a hand between them. Between her legs. And up the full curve of her inner thigh before stopping at the edge of her lips. He didn’t part them, just traced his finger along the outside, gathering her moisture.