I hate his ex-wife for what she’s done to him.
“Seb,” I say softly. “You’re looking into this too much. You need to stop thinking about the past… or the future. There is no pressure or expectation between us.”
He cups my cheek, and his scared eyes hold mine.
“Just think about now, because that’s all we have,” I tell him.
His chest rises and falls.
“If you want us to have a chance, you need to talk to me,” I whisper.
“You don’t want to know the fucked-up shit that’s in my head.”
Emotion overwhelms me, and suddenly, I do. I want to know everything about this beautiful man. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
There’s a feeling between us. A closeness. An understanding.
Fear.
I sit down onto the couch, not sure what to say, and he sits opposite me. He places his elbows on his knees and drops his head as he wrings his hands together. He’s clearly stressed out.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask.
He nods.
I get up and look in the fridge. “I only have wine.”
“That’ll do.”
I pour two glasses and pass him one. I drop back into my seat, and we both take a sip in silence.
“Where do you want this to go?” I ask. “In a perfect world, what happens in this story, Sebastian?”
“We work it out.”
“That’s what you want? To work it out?” I repeat to make sure I heard him right.
He nods as he swallows.
Progress.
“That’s what I want, too, Seb.”
A frown creases his brow, as if he’s surprised by my answer.
I think back over my history and all the therapists I’ve seen over the years. None of their advice ever seemed to help me. One particular therapist comes to mine. He always wanted me to abstain from having sex because he thought it was counter-productive to me building any form of intimacy.
“You know what’s wrong with us?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.” He mutters dryly.
“We skipped a step. We went from cute flirting in a coffee shop one day, to you choking me and fucking my brains out in a brothel the next.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face. He likes that memory.
“We missed the dating stage, Seb. We never built that friendship, or the trust that goes with it.”
He frowns, processing my words.
Yes, this is it.
“Think about it,” I say with renewed purpose. “We are so good together physically, but emotionally, we’re useless. We’re either fucking hard or fighting harder. There’s nothing in between. No light and shade. No relationship can endure that no matter how much we want this to work out.”
“We can’t change the past, April. I wish that I could.”
I smile softly, hopeful for the first time all week. “But we can.”
He frowns.
“What if we went back.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Your hang up is based around sex, am I right? You only respond to one-night stands and paid sex, and then in the morning, you freak out because you think you owe me more.”
He exhales heavily as if disgusted and I know that I’m right.
“So, let’s take it off the table completely.”
“What?” He screws up his face.
“Let’s be together and not have sex.”
“An attraction like ours can’t be tamed, April. It’s not that simple.”
“We could try.”
“Why would you want to do that? Sex is the only fucking thing that does work between us.”
I stand and walk over to sit on his lap. I brush the dark hair back from his forehead, and I kiss him softly. “Because I know we are better than this.”
I look up into his big, beautiful brown eyes, so tortured and flawed, and I kiss him again, our lips linger over each other’s.
“I can’t be with you and not…” His voice trails off. “I wouldn’t be able to…”
“Baby, listen to me.” I take his face in my hands. “We have something and it’s far from perfect, but it’s worth trying for. From the moment we met, I knew it was special, and sure, we’ve both made monumental mistakes, and you’ve been a real fucking asshole at times.”
He twists his lips to stop a smile.
“But in the end, it’s how we navigate things from here that matters, isn’t it?”
He runs his hand tenderly down my back as he listens.
“And besides, Rome wasn’t built in a day.” I say hopefully.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with my bullshit.” He murmurs.
My heart constricts and I push his hair back from his face. “This isn’t your fault. Never, ever apologize to me for being honest. I know better than anyone that the mind can be a dark place and that we have no control over the things that shape us. To be honest, Sebastian, I don’t even know how I’m being so normal right now. It’s usually me who’s the fucked-up one.”
He smiles as his tongue slowly slides through my parted lips. I open my eyes to see that his are firmly shut.
The tenderness dancing between us like a song.
Maybe we do have a chance.
We kiss again and again, and arousal rolls in as we hold each other.
No sex!
Short term pain for long term gain. Ah, what am I doing? I pull back from him.
“No sex, remember?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, you have to be joking. There is no way we won’t have sex. The attraction between us is way too strong.”
“I want to try. If not for you, for me.”
He frowns.
“You’re not the only damaged one here, Seb, and I know this is it for me. I need to sort my shit out now or give up on relationships all together. I’m thirty-one.”
He gives me his first genuine smile of the day, and my heart melts. “You have plenty of time.”
“Ha, you just say that because you’re old.”
He chuckles. “Perhaps.”
I know if I keep sitting on his lap and kissing like this, I’ll be bent over the couch in two minutes flat. I stand, and he swiftly pulls me back down onto his lap.
“Not yet,” he says. “I haven’t held you for four days, April. I need more time.” He holds me tightly with his head to my chest, and I smile as hope blooms.
Sweet Mr. Garcia is in a league of his own.
I don’t get him often. It makes me cherish it more when I do.
His lips drop to my nipple, and he gently tugs it with his teeth.
“Hey.” I pull back from him. “Remember: no sex.”
“It was a nibble. My cock was nowhere near the Motherload.”
I giggle. “The Motherload. Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Maybe.” He smiles. “It has a ring to it.” He bites my nipple again.
“Stop.” I laugh.
I refill our glasses and pass him his. He holds it up in the air, and I clink mine to his.
“What are we toasting?” I ask.
“To the most ridiculous social experiment of all time,” he mutters dryly. “Motherload abstinence.”
I burst out laughing, and he laughs, too. We fall silent as we stare at each other, the air circling with something new.