Craving Redemption (18 page)

He closed his phone with a snap, and I heard it thud against the carpet as he threw it off the bed, but I was too busy looking at him to see where it landed. He leaned back onto his knees and was pushing my shirt up my stomach, licking and biting at me on every inch he exposed. When I finally had enough of his teasing, I reached down and tore it off, going for his vest next and pushing it off his shoulders.

We wrestled and rolled until our clothes were strewn across the bed and my chest was heaving with exertion. Asa was a huge guy. I knew he allowed me to push him around the bed because he easily weighed a hundred pounds more than I did. But he let me scratch and bite at him, taking everything I gave him as my frustrations poured out of me. His skin turned red across his chest, and there were fingernail marks covering the length of his back where I’d scratched him as he kissed me. I’d also left a fat hickey on his neck and a bite mark on his shoulder—almost as if I was marking my territory.

We ended upside-down on the bed, my bare feet sliding under our pillows, but he made no move to right us. He was too busy staring between my legs as his fingers rubbed and pulled and pinched at my flesh. His eyes were so dark they looked almost black, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he suddenly stopped, causing me to whine out my annoyance.

“What’s my name?” he asked me gruffly, moving his hips back as I tried to reach him.

“Huh?” I was in a fog of arousal and didn’t understand why he was talking instead of touching me.

“Who am I, Callie?” he asked again, rubbing his fingers softly across my skin. “What do you call me?”

“Asa!” I cried out as his fingers finally hit the spot where I needed him.

“That’s right, Sugar. Say it again,” he demanded as his fingers started up a rhythm that had me squirming.

“Asa. Asa. Asa,” I murmured over and over. I didn’t care at that point; he could’ve asked me to call him Sergei the Snake and I probably would have screamed it.

By the time I came back down from my orgasm, he’d shifted us on the bed so we were cuddled under the blankets. It took me a few minutes before I realized that he hadn’t come. Normally, when we were messing around, I’d use either my hands or my body to get him off, but I’d been so blissed out I hadn’t even tried. I reached down to the waistband of his boxers, running my nails across his skin the way I knew he liked, but before I could dip my hand inside, he grabbed my wrist and pulled it back up between our chests.

“It’s fine, Callie,” he told me sleepily, “that one was all yours.”

I lay there for a few minutes thinking over his words when I finally decided to ask him a question that had been bothering me for days.

“Why won’t you have sex with me?”

He choked a little from surprise, and then situated himself more comfortably next to me with his arm curled up under his pillow.

“We’ve had this conversation,” he told me bluntly, closing his eyes as if to end it.

“Yeah, but that was before. We’re practically having sex already, what’s the big deal?” I asked. His logic was completely asinine in my opinion, and I was wondering how he would try to explain it.

“Callie,” he huffed out in annoyance, but when he opened his eyes and saw how serious I was, his expression changed. “It’s gonna happen. Probably sooner than later. But, fuck, I’m leaving in two days. You’re gonna have a hard enough time with me gone, living your own life and going to school and shit. I’m not gonna take it all and then leave you, baby.”

“Pfft! You act like I’m asking you to marry me or something. Don’t act like you don’t sleep with chicks and then bail all the freaking time,” I scowled back, completely irritated with his explanation.

“You and me are different.”

“What the heck does that mean?” I raised myself up on one arm and had to push his face up to look at me when he seemed to be mesmerized by the breast that was peeking out of the blankets.

“It means that you’re living in my house and sleeping in my bed. Those other bitches aren’t relationships, and I don’t give a flying fuck what they think about. I don’t care before I hit it, and I sure as hell don’t care after.”

My jaw dropped.

“That’s a dick thing to say!” I exclaimed, my eyebrows practically touching my hairline in surprise. “What the hell?”

“Callie, don’t look at me like that, Sugar,” he scowled, “those chicks know the score. Not one of them is looking for a happily ever after, and when I’m with them I treat ‘em with respect.”

“Oh, yeah. You sure sound respectful.”

“Like I said, they know from the beginning they’re only getting one thing.” He sighed in exasperation, “How the hell did we get on this conversation?”

“I was asking why you wouldn’t fuck me, even though apparently, there are
loads
of women that you
will
.”

“Baby, I ain’t looking at nobody but you. Alright?” he said as he leaned forward to give me a soft peck on the lips. “But we’re waiting until I get back.”

I lay there silently as he fell asleep and thought over what he’d said. I knew logically that he was trying to look out for me, to keep things as easy as possible as I made my transition to living alone.

I was just afraid with the unspecified status of our relationship; he wouldn’t have a problem with having sex with someone he
didn’t
care about.

I was suddenly glad that I left reminders of me all over his body.

Chapter 28

Callie

Asa left me for the first time on a Monday morning.

We’d spent the weekend lying around the house, watching Westerns and debating music. Yes, Westerns. I’d been expecting the old-fashioned John Wayne movies, and there were a few of those, but he’d also introduced me to
Lonesome Dove
and
Tombstone
. Those two had me at the edge of my seat, giggling and biting my nails. The longer we watched, with Asa’s running commentary, the more I realized that he didn’t watch them for the men in the white hats—he identified with the men in black.

A few of his friends stopped by the house on Sunday, introducing themselves as Echo, Chucky, and Michael. Asa seemed more relaxed around them; it was a side of him that I’d never seen before. He laughed more often. It was a quiet rumble, but it was there, and it was a beautiful sound.

Their visit also seemed to make him breathe a sigh of relief. He was worried about leaving me on my own, and I knew that it was causing him to lie awake at night while we both pretended we were sleeping. I wouldn’t have known the extent of his worry without witnessing his relief when it eased a little. He’d wanted to be sure that I had people in my corner when he left, and he’d set out to make sure that happened.

They were all rough around the edges, and no one I’d want to meet in a dark alley, but my association with Asa made them treat me as if I were one of them. After sizing me up for the first thirty minutes of their visit, they’d relaxed into a type of big brother mentality, teasing and joking with me as if they’d known me for years.

But none of them ever touched me. Not even to put a hand on my shoulder or to brush past me on their way to the kitchen.

It was almost blissful, those last couple of days, and I could have lived that way forever.

But reality had a way of reaching out and pinching you—a sharp reminder to pay attention.

I woke up Monday morning to Asa tracing his fingers over my back, running them down to where my sleep shorts rested on my hips and back up to the nape of my neck. I lay there for a minute, dreading the day, and pretending to sleep. I didn’t want him to leave.

He didn’t let me play possum for long, though, and as he rasped that he knew I was awake, he tilted his head and bit the side of my neck. It instantly made my blood run faster in my veins and I tried to roll over to face him, but instead he wrapped his arm around my hips and pulled me in against him so we were spooning.

“Don’t wanna get outta this bed,” he grumbled into my neck, his hand sliding up my torso until he was holding one breast in his palm. “Don’t wanna leave you.”

He continued to run his hands over my body as I bit my tongue so I didn’t beg him to stay. I’d tried to get him to move in with me permanently, but the conversation hadn’t ended well and I hadn’t brought it up again. He was loyal to the men in Eugene and couldn’t imagine moving away from them—and he got pissed whenever I’d mentioned it. Also, I was trying to be less needy. I didn’t want him changing his mind about me because I didn’t get my shit together, so instead, I hid it.

I hid the fact that I wanted him near me every second, I hid that leaving the house alone still terrified me, and I hid the fact that I was afraid the minute he left, I’d finally break into a million pieces.

Everything was hidden.

I arched into his hands as he started grinding against me, his arm under my head curving down to fondle a breast. The other hand slipped beneath my sleep shorts and I jolted as he went directly to my clit, plucking and rubbing it.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he whispered into my ear as he played my body. “Not gonna let any of those pimple-faced high school boys in here, are you?”

He didn’t seem to need an answer, because he just continued on—staking his claim and making my body sing as he whispered reassuring and dirty words in my ear.

By the time we were finished, his alarm had already sounded and we didn’t have time to cuddle in bed like we usually did. He had to hit the road, and I had to get ready for my first day of school.

God, I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to go back inside a high school again. I felt so much older than everyone there, the thought of gossiping and dances made me curl my lip in disgust. I knew, though, if I wanted to be able to support myself I had to at least get my diploma.

I wished that I didn’t have to start school that day. I needed a day to get myself together when he left, but I think that leaving on the day I started school was his plan from the beginning. He was hoping it would give me something new to focus on, a specific reason to get out of the house instead of wallowing in our bed.

He stayed with me as long as he could, but by the time I was ready for school, I could tell he was anxious to get going. We left the apartment quietly, both lost in our own thoughts, but I’d barely reached my car before he was in my face, kissing me hard.

My back was against the cool driver’s window, his hips snug against mine, when he spoke.

“You’re gonna have a good day, Sugar. Meet a bunch of new people, get outta the house for a while, learn some shit. I know you’re nervous, but there ain’t nothing for you to be worried about, okay?” he told me gently, rubbing his thumb across my cheek.

I couldn’t understand why he was talking to me about school. Who cared about that? He was leaving me there all alone, and I’d already started to miss him as I looked into his warm brown eyes. School was an afterthought. An annoyance.

“Be careful, okay? Call me when you stop. I’m sure I’ll be bored as shit all day,” I told him with a small smile, the best I could do under the circumstances. I didn’t want to make him think that I couldn’t do it without him. I had to pretend.

“Yeah, I’ll text you. Doubt they’ll let ya answer your phone in class.” He leaned down to kiss me again. “I’m gonna follow you to school and then I’ll take off. Call me when you get home—doubt I’ll pick up, but I wanna know you got home safe.”

“Got it,” I assured him, standing up straighter and pulling back my shoulders. “You better get going or I’ll be late. Not the impression I want to give on my first day.”

He nodded once before taking my mouth again in a wet kiss and then pulled away. When he climbed on his bike, I had to dig the fingernails on my left hand into my palm to keep myself from calling out to him that I needed one more minute. Just one more.

Instead, I called out playfully, “Why do they call you Grease?”

“Depends on who you’re talkin’ to,” he answered with a mischievous smile, storing a few belongings in his saddle bags as I watched him. “Dad thought it was funny to call me that as a kid because I was so worried about staying clean. Minute I got done doing something I had to wash my hands. Didn’t matter what I was doing.”

I smiled widely at him, imagining him as a persnickety little boy.

“Poet calls me Grease for a different reason.” He finished buckling the bags and looked at me, taking in the jeans and sweater I was wearing. “Said he couldn’t figure out how I was picking up chicks so easy—had to be that I was greased.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, puzzled.

He chuckled a little as he climbed on his bike.

“Didn’t have to do anything, just slid right in like I was greased.”

I still didn’t get it. And then suddenly I did, and I wished that I had something I could throw at his arrogant ass. I scowled at him before flipping him off and getting into the car, hearing his roar of laughter even after I’d slammed my door.

He followed me all the way into the parking lot of the new school but he didn’t stop. We both knew that if we had to say goodbye again, I’d never be able to make myself go inside the ugly brick building. I watched as he waved his hand at me before taking off, and I had to hurry out of my car before I started crying.

The school was pretty easy to navigate, and I had no problems finding my classes, but for the first time in my life, no one talked to me. I hadn’t been the most popular girl in my old school, but I’d had a solid group of friends and I’d always easily made new ones. It was different in the new school, though. People barely even looked at me, and when they did they walked right past me.

It wasn’t until I’d finished two classes, and was sitting down in the last one before lunch, that I had any interaction at all.

“Hey, new girl!” a pretty blonde girl called to me, setting her bag next to mine on the floor and taking a seat next to me. She was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen, and I wanted to turn and look behind me to make sure she was talking to me, but I didn’t. Her hair was set in a huge bump at her forehead then smoothed back into a ponytail, she had a piercing above her lip on the right side like a beauty mark, and she was wearing the most flawless makeup—including bright red lipstick—that  I’d ever seen on anyone. I think I may have drooled a little.