Take Your Time (Fate and Circumstance #2) (16 page)

“You weren’t shy last week when we discussed why your dick hangs down your pant leg.” It seemed the more I pressed him, the quieter he became, and the more his cheeks took on a reddish hue. Watching him react that way made me giddy, left me happy and excited instead of numb and empty like I’d been for the last five months.

“It wasn’t the most comfortable conversation I’ve ever had.”

I curled my legs up, pulling them closer to my body. He laid his hand on my knee, soft and gentle at first, trailing his fingertips in a figure eight over my skin before resting his open palm on the outside of my bare thigh. His soothing touch made my skin feel cold on every part of my body other than the one spot beneath his warm palm.

He trailed his fingers to my arm, settling his hand over mine, and locking our thumbs together. The act seemed so intimate, so personal. Heat spread through me, settling any worry or doubt left in me. It gave me a sense of absolute peace. He began to play with my fingers, study them instead of looking at me. “What’s this?” he asked, touching the spot on the inside of my middle finger.

“It’s a tattoo.” I knew without looking what he referred to. Three black dots, one on the side of my middle knuckle, and one on each side of that. “It’s an ellipses. It’s used to symbolize something trailing off.”

“Why did you pick that?” His eyes met mine, and the way they glistened as he waited for me to answer showed genuine curiosity.

“Sometimes things happen in life, and it makes you lose your train of thought, makes you forget about what you were doing or saying. So you just trail off. To me, it’s a reminder that even though we may get sidetracked, the important thing is to remember where you were going, and to pick back up. Make it a pause instead of an unfinished thought. Never give up.”

“Then why put it there? You’d have to bend your whole hand to see it.” He twisted my arm, demonstrating how I’d have to move in order to see my own tattoo.

I snickered, lacing my fingers with his. Intense heat traveled up my arm as our entire palms touched, sizzling with something I’d never felt before. “When I cut hair, I pull a section straight, and then hold where I need to cut between my first and second finger. In the mirror, I can see it.”

“That’s rather brilliant. Any more tattoos?”

“I have a robin in watercolor on my lower back for my mom. Her name was Robin and she was a painter. Well, not professionally, but she loved to paint.” The pricks of tears reminded me that I needed to change the topic away from my mom before I broke down in front of him. “My turn to ask a question. Why won’t you kiss me?”

“Haven’t found a good time to yet.”

“That’s such a lie. First night we met, when we were saying goodbye at my car, I leaned in and you kissed my cheek. Tonight, in the parking lot, I tried again, and you still didn’t. You’ve had the chance to, but you’ve veered away every time.”

“I didn’t say I never had the chance. I said there hasn’t been a good time.”

“Then what’s a good time?”

“The night we met, you were vulnerable. I wasn’t about to take advantage of that. And tonight…well, things were a little too heated between us. I wouldn’t have been able to stop at a kiss.”

I raised our joined hands to his face, running the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip. “That didn’t answer my question,” I said, unable to take my focus off his mouth. “When is it a good time?”

My pulse picked up, my heart hammering away in my chest like a drum as each second ticked by in slow motion. He let go of my hand and held my chin between his thumb and forefinger, slowly inching his face toward mine. By the time our noses touched, I closed my eyes, anticipating the feel of his lips on mine. But then he tilted his head, grazing my cheek with his lips instead. Defeat and rejection had me ready to give up and push him away. I’d grown tired of his games, his endless teasing and taunting. I pressed my hand to his chest, but instead of pushing him away, I glided my palm over his hard pec and up to his neck, where his strong pulse thumped against my fingertips.

His hot breath fanned against my cheek through his parted lips, never once closing them or forming an actual kiss on my skin. He pushed himself up slightly with his other arm, shifting his upper body over mine, forcing me to lie flat on my back. That’s when his lips moved from the side of my face to the corner of my mouth. I sucked in a small gasp of air seconds before he finally brushed my lips with his.

It was a tender motion at first, barely touching with no pressure behind it. However, it was the most intimate sensation I’d ever experienced. I slid my hand from his throat to the back his neck, up to the back of his head where I gently scratched the short hairs, catching them beneath my fingernails. It was enough to force him to deepen the kiss, fully closing his mouth over mine.

A weak moan vibrated in my throat at the same time a low groan erupted from his. His lips parted, opening mine in the process, and then his warm tongue met mine, gently massaging it for a second before pushing it into my mouth. It was sweet, tender, yet growing impatient and demanding the longer it went on. Finally, he pulled back and rested his forehead on my shoulder.

“I guess laying in bed isn’t a good time, either. I’m gonna need another shower.” His soft laugh rumbled through me, sparking my own giggles to life.

“Is that what you did in the last shower? Did you take care of yourself?”

“God, woman. You’re killing me.” He shifted to his back and covered his eyes with his arm.

I rolled into him, excited and turned on. “You know,” I whispered close to his ear, “you don’t have to do that in the shower. You took care of me earlier, now let me take care of you.” I trailed my hand down his body toward the impressive bulge in his loose shorts.

He quickly grabbed my wrist, keeping me from reaching it. “I took care of you because you were convinced you needed it. I don’t need it. And before you get upset, that doesn’t mean I don’t want it, or that I haven’t thought about it. It simply means we can’t. I am here for
you
. And if we mix sex into it, that’s all it’ll be. We’ll become fuck buddies, which will hinder any chances of you feeling better.”

“So I’m supposed to go without sex until you deem me fixed?”

“Sarah, I will do what I can for you, but I’m not going to give in just because you say you need it. And it doesn’t mean you need to do anything for me. I want you to talk to me, tell me things, really open up no matter how painful it is. I won’t push or force you to talk if you’re not ready, but there will be times you won’t want to, yet you’ll need to. And those will be the times I’ll be there to help you through it anyway you need it.”

It didn’t take a genius to understand what he meant. Pretty much, if I opened up the depths of my soul, dug around in the pain, and exposed myself, he’d get me off. It seemed like blackmail, but it made sense and was exactly what I wanted a mere twenty-four hours ago, but now, not so much. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I’d already let go, and now it was time to see if I would fall or fly.

I curled into his side and rested my head on his chest with my arm around his waist. “You’re asking a lot of me, Bentley.” I closed my eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that had taken over.

“You’ll be all right. I promise. Just take your time.”

Those were the last words I heard before sleep pulled me under, lulled into slumber by the hypnotic beat of his heart, the fresh scent of his body, and the rhythmic movement of his breathing.

Bentley

Sarah left the next morning before Luke got out of bed. I didn’t want her to go, but I knew things would get really messy if she’d seen him here. I felt like I’d just gotten her, and I wasn’t ready to lose her quite yet. And had she seen Luke, she would’ve run without allowing me to explain. Even if I could give her an explanation, it would only make her push me away more. I still had more work to do before that happened.

“You must be a real idiot bringing her here.” Luke made his way to the kitchen, his hair all over the place, proving he’d just rolled out of bed. “I saw her car here last night when I got home. Do you even know how awkward that could’ve been?”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s gone.”

“Just don’t bring her back.”

“What am I supposed to say?
‘Sorry, my cousin doesn’t want you in his home anymore’
? That’s a little rude, even for you.”

He sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands, clearly recovering from a night of drinking. “I don’t care, Ben. How about you start with the fucking truth? The longer this goes on, the worse it’ll be. You’re fucking sleeping with her. This is gonna blow up in your face and you know it.”

“I can’t tell her yet. I’m finally starting to get through to her.”

“Didn’t seem like it last night when I found her in the bar trying to get laid.”

Luke had left right after calling me the night before, when he felt the need to rub it in my face that Sarah was back out on the town. So he had no idea what I’d found once I got there.

“Listen, Ben—”

“No. You listen, Luke. You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You don’t know what she’s going through. You don’t know how I feel about her. So stay out of it. I appreciate you letting me stay longer than planned, but if this is how it’s going to be, then I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

“What? You plan on shacking up with her?”

I groaned, tightening my hands into fists on top of the table. Growing up, we’d never fought. We’d always gotten along. Even after I came to stay with him, we didn’t have any issues. This didn’t start until the night I decided to seek Sarah out. “Again, Luke, you don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t slept together…aside from
next
to each other last night. I only want to
help
her.”

“Keep telling yourself that, cousin. But one of these days, you’re going to be hit hard with the truth, and it’s gonna sting. You’re gonna fall for her, even harder than you already have, and that’s when she’s gonna rip the carpet out from beneath you. Trust me. I’ve been there. You try to keep it light and fun, and the next thing you know, you’re in love and ready to spend your life together. And just when you think everything is sunshine and rainbows, the sky opens up and pours on you.”

I shook my head. “Don’t compare your relationship with—”

“I’m done.” He slapped his hand on the table before standing, interrupting me. “Do what you want. But I’m telling you, don’t bring her back here. All it’ll do is fuck everything up for you. If you want more time, then it’s in your best interest to keep her away from me. But when she rips your heart out…” He shook his head and walked out of the room, leaving his sentence hanging in mid air.

I knew Luke only had my best interests at heart. I knew he was only looking out for me, but it didn’t make it feel any better. As I sat alone in the kitchen, I couldn’t help but let his words sink in.

He was right. Sarah would leave me. There was no way in hell she’d stick around if she found out the truth.

The clock was ticking.

Time was running out.

I had to start picking up my pace before the buzzer sounded on our time together.

Sarah

After leaving Bentley’s, I hit the grocery store and then went home and did a bit of cleaning. I needed to fill the silence I’d found myself in. It was strange to me since I’d gotten so used to being alone, never minding the lack of conversation. However, after one night with Bentley, I realized how much I’d missed it. How much I missed just having someone there—like my mom used to be. We didn’t always have to have something to talk about, but just knowing she was there was all that mattered. And maybe I’d pushed people away because I didn’t want anyone to fill those shoes, believing that would mean I had replaced her. That thought gutted me and left me guilt-ridden over allowing anyone to take her place, yet also contented that I’d been able to analyze my actions on my own.

The thought of sleep had me dreading the empty bed, the cold pillow, and the suffocating dark room. I used to look forward to crawling into bed, using it as an outlet for the pain I’d stuffed down during the day. Dealing with my grief didn’t feel as overpowering that way. Although, after spending a night in Bentley’s bed, curled up next to him without one tear slipping out, I no longer desired the outlet of my obscure and lonely room. 

I don’t know how he knew, but Bentley’s call came in moments after I dressed into a T-shirt for bed. The sadness had already begun to creep in, the threat of tears burning my eyes. Yet that all vanished as soon as his name flashed on my screen. It was as if he sensed my sadness and knew I needed to hear the sound of his voice. He spoke to me, and with each story he told of his childhood, his brothers, their families, and his friends back home, my melancholy dissipated until I finally fell asleep. I’d managed to close my eyes and drift off without the dark cloud of memories suffocating me. And I’d been rewarded with the most peaceful night of sleep I’d had in months. Well, except for the night at Bentley’s, but this was on my own. I felt proud, as if I’d accomplished something.

By the time I made it into work Monday morning, I didn’t need to plaster a fake smile on my face, because a genuine grin wouldn’t leave my lips. Waking up to the thought of Bentley put me in a good mood, and I wished it’d never go away. However, the happiness I’d woken up with didn’t compare to the excitement that bubbled inside me when he surprised me in the salon during my lunch break.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my grin so large my cheeks ached.

“I figured you’d probably be hungry, so I brought you some food and hoped you’d share with me.” His sheepish smile made him seem young, like a teenager on a first date. I loved the many different sides of Bentley that he’d shown me. He could hold so much confidence, speak with such purpose and determination. Then there were the moments when it seemed as though he had to physically push himself to speak, like now, becoming shy and uncertain. It was such a stark contrast to how he’d been in the parking lot a couple nights before. But it made him real, more real than any other guy I’d ever met. It’d always been one dimensional with them, our Saturdays together more like a performance. I never got to know the real person underneath. That’s why it worked for me, because I could pretend to be whoever I needed to be in that moment. But Bentley had forced himself in and I’d shared things with him, bared parts of my soul that no one else had seen. In exchange, I’d seen Bentley’s multi-faceted personality, and the way he didn’t seem to have a problem showing me all his sides. It had been an example to follow.

He took me out to his truck where we sat on the tailgate and ate the lunch he’d made for us. I didn’t want to admit it out loud, but his food preferences weren’t bad, even though they were drastically different than what I’d been used to. I teased him about his food, and then dropped it when he went into a rant about the health benefits. I enjoyed listening to him talk, as long as it wasn’t a lecture about health. He sounded more like a nutritionist than a horse trainer.

Before he left, he reached into his truck and handed me a gift bag. I hesitantly took it, wary of what he’d gotten me after he made me promise not to open it in front of him. The smirk on his face left me curious, even though my insides were twisted in knots over his gesture. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had given me a present for no reason, and it made me instantly suspicious of his intentions.

I waited until I got back to my station before opening it, finding a dark-blue box wrapped in cellophane beneath tissue paper. Pulling it out, I read the label:
Dreamer
by Versace. I had no idea what it was until I opened it up, noticing the familiar bottle of cologne. The sight of it forced an excited laugh to erupt from my chest. I immediately sprayed it in the air and took a whiff, euphoria taking over my brain. My heart grew heavy in my chest, not because of the grief I’d become accustomed to, but due to the compassion he’d shown me by giving me this incredibly thoughtful gift.

“Why did you buy me cologne?” I sniffled, suddenly tearing up when he answered my call. My grin was so large it had taken over my tone, leaving my words happy and excited—and slightly shocked. “And Versace? How in the world did you find a place in this Podunk town that sells this?”

His chuckle came through the line, broadening the cheesy smile on my face. “It’s for you when I’m not around. You said it calms you. And I didn’t find it here. I had to go to Lunsford Outlets to find it.”

I fell into my chair, stunned by his efforts. “Lunsford? That’s over an hour away! Why would you do that?
When
did you do that?”

“I did it because you said it helps you. Smelling my cologne is a hell of a lot better than going to bars and picking up guys. So the drive was worth it. I told you I’d be here for you, but you have to do the work. It’s not a big deal. And if a measly bottle of cologne makes moving on easier, then I’d do it a hundred times over.”

I released the air I’d held in, silently warring with things I couldn’t comprehend. Why did a simple bottle cause me to feel things I’d never experienced before, least of all toward a guy? “It
is
a big deal…to me, and thank you. I just can’t remember the last time someone bought me something.”

My mood changed after that phone call. I wouldn’t say I’d become unhappy, but the contagious smile I’d worn on my face that entire morning had vanished. It wasn’t replaced with a frown or anything, just…confusion. That’s what it was—he baffled me, his actions, what it all meant. I truly believed him when he said he wanted to help me…but
why
? That’s the answer I couldn’t seem to figure out, and I doubted he’d tell me the truth. He evaded that question each time I asked, distracting me by his own pushiness or general good looks and sexual appeal.

Bentley clearly had money. He wasn’t rushing back to a job, and I knew from what he’d told me that he hadn’t worked since coming here—and I still didn’t know how long ago that’d been. I had no idea how he supported himself, where his money came from, or even how much of it he had. And considering he paid for haircuts and shampoos at my salon, wore Versace cologne, and then bought me a bottle to waste spraying into the air just to make myself feel better, I could only assume he had enough to live more than a comfortable life.

The rest of the week went by with this cloud of uncertainty hovering above. Bentley had continued to call me every night at bedtime, and I’d allowed him to talk to me until I fell asleep. It wasn’t that the thought of hearing his voice didn’t excite me, because it did, yet with all the paranoid thoughts of him stacking up in my mind, it forced me to keep him at arm’s length, just within reach for when I needed him. And at night was when I needed him the most. His mindless chatter kept the images away and allowed me to sleep in peace.

He’d met me up at the salon for lunch every day except Wednesday. After I told him I got off early that day, he’d asked me to spend the afternoon with him. However, I declined, making up a lame excuse about needing to get things done at home. I’m sure he saw right through it, though he didn’t call me out on it, which was completely out of character for him and made me wonder what his agenda was. At least it didn’t stop him from calling that night, or coming to see me the next day for lunch. I didn’t want to push him away entirely, but I needed some distance to sort through my thoughts and concerns. I knew I needed to have a serious discussion with him about it, but my lunch break and his nightly phone calls weren’t the time or place.

So on Friday—when he came to have lunch with me—he’d asked if I’d be interested in seeing him the next day, and I accepted. I really did want to see him again, although the biggest reason why I’d agreed was because I desperately needed to obtain answers. Without them, I knew I’d never be able to fully let go like he’d asked. He told me he had something planned, but he wouldn’t go into detail about what it was. All he said was to dress normal and be ready by five.

When I pulled up to Bentley’s cousin’s house on Saturday night, Bentley already stood outside the front door waiting. He quickly came to my side of the car and opened the door, helping me out like the true gentleman he is. Then he wasted no time walking me to his truck, helping me in the passenger side. I second-guessed my decision to wear a skirt after his hand touched the back of my thigh as I climbed in. I knew if he did that once more, I wouldn’t get the answers I sought. Instead, I’d beg him to touch other places on my body.

He took me to dinner, mumbling something about needing to eat first. I’d questioned him, yet only received a smirk in response. It wasn’t a fancy dinner by any means. We went to a quick burger joint, which had surprised me since the menu didn’t seem to fit his dietary preferences. I’d teased him about it, but all he said was once in a while wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t say anything when I ordered a side of fries, and I didn’t comment when he stole one. The conversation between us was light and easy, and the longer I waited to question him, the harder it became. Being around him seemed so natural, so right, and it did nothing but complicate things for me. In his absence, doubt consumed me, made me analyze and question everything. But when I looked into his eyes, heard his laugh, or felt him near me, everything else faded away.

After dinner, I wanted to kick myself for not saying anything. I’d had many opportunities, yet passed them up each and every time. I had no idea what he had planned next, and I knew wherever it was, it more than likely wouldn’t be a place where we’d have the freedom to talk about things. I’d become torn between needing to get everything off my chest, and wanting to just enjoy my time with him and live in denial.

But then he pulled into the parking lot of a small strip mall, which left me even more confused about his plans. I glanced around, wondering what he had up his sleeve as he made his way around the truck to help me out. I gave him a questioning glance, but only got an excited smile back in return. With my hand in his, he led me to one of the shops, opening the door that read “Drunken Picasso.”

“What is this?”

He placed his hand on my lower back and led me to a table in the back. “I thought it’d be fun. They give you wine while you paint.”

I wanted to turn on my heel and run. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do anything but be there.

He must’ve seen the hesitation on my face, because he turned me to face him and held me still by my shoulders, forcing my attention to his intense gaze. “Talk to me, Sarah. What’s going on?”

There was a small part of me that wanted to shrug and tell him everything was fine, and another part that wanted to break down and cry while burying my face into his chest. However, the concern in his eyes wouldn’t let me do either. Instead, I swallowed my fear and apprehension, and admitted, “My mom painted.”