I sit up to watch him dress, shafts of moonlight pouring through the curtains he insisted on opening.  I want to see you, he’d said.  I want to see your face when you come. I want to see your beautiful legs spread and I want to watch my cock slide in and out of you.  I don’t ever want to forget what that looks like.

How was I going to say no to that?  And now I’m getting the benefit. I can see his muscles flex as he pulls on his pants, like titanium machinery gliding smoothly under flawless skin.  And I can see his face, partly shadowed, when he looks at me.  That look that says he could stay here and make love to me forever and never get tired. That look that says he wants me more than he wants to eat. That look that says he wants… more.  Only I don’t know exactly what “more” is for him.

“Will I see you later?” I ask.

“How about dinner tonight? I’ll cook.”

“I promised Emmy I’d take her to Bailey’s for a cheeseburger tonight. She did well on her math test and that’s what she wanted as a reward, so…”

“Can I come?”

I hide the smile that wants to light up my face.  “I suppose we could put up with your incessant chatter for another night.”  I see his wry expression.  “What are you up to now? I mean, is the house across the street finished? Or will you be working on something else?”

“I’ll be back across the street tomorrow,” he responds vaguely.

“And today?”

I see his pause. I see his hesitation.  I’ve overstepped.

“Today, I’ll be at the beach.”

It’s Sunday.

“Building a sandcastle?”

He nods once, his brow furrowing like it’s done so often since I’ve known him. The thing is, I haven’t seen him frown much in the last few days.

“We, um, we could come and help if you want. Or if you’d rather do it by yourself…”  I let the sentence trail off, flabbergasted at my audacity. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s like I own him, like he can’t spend a minute without me or have a day that’s unaccounted for.

“Thanks, but–”

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry!  Listen to me! I sound like a controlling fruitcake. Just forget I said anything,” I plead, covering my face with my hands.  How. Humiliating.  If he ever wondered whether I’ve had any kind of normal relationship in the past, I’m sure he has his answer now.

Cole pulls my hands from my face. His expression is kind, but inscrutable.  “Don’t apologize. I want to be with you. But,” he adds, his smile small, “this is just something that’s…it’s just something that I have to do on my own.”

“I understand, Cole. Truly I do. I don’t know why I even offered.” I shake my head.

“Because you’re caring and fun and you want to be with me, too.”

I neither confirm nor deny his assumption, but he’s right. I do want to be with him.

“I’ll pick you up at six. And wear something formal. You’ve never been to Bailey’s at night.”

For a split second, I wonder if he’s serious.  “You’re kidding, right?”

His laugh is a short bark. “Of course I’m kidding. Have you seen Bailey’s? You don’t even have to have teeth to get served in there.”

“Good point,” I concede.  “I just wanted to make sure.”

Cole leans into me where I’m sitting on the bed.  “If it were up to me, you could come naked.  You’d be the best dressed person there.  But there’s Emmy.  And the police, of course.  It probably wouldn’t end like I’d want it to–with you riding my cock at the bar.”

I screw up my face.  “Is that what you think about when you ask me to dinner at Bailey’s?”

“Don’t look at me like that. If you weren’t so delectable, so irresistible, so damned addictive, I wouldn’t think about you all the time like I do.  It’s your own fault.”

He bends his head to nip at my breast with his teeth.  “If you’re leaving, you’d better stop right there,” I warn.

His sigh is long and loud.  “Fine. I guess I’m going.  I had a good reason, right?” he teases.

“Emmy.”

“Right right.  A very good reason.”

I grin as he pecks me hard on the mouth and walks away like I took his favorite toy.

I think to myself after I hear the front door shut and snap locked that he’s not the only one who’s addicted.

TWENTY-FOUR

Cole

MAYBE COMING TO Bailey’s was a mistake.  I expected the whispers and the long, odd looks, but I never expected to feel so…possessive.  I find myself glaring at any man who stares at Eden for more than ten seconds.  And there are a lot of them.  Bailey’s is the only place to eat in the whole town.  It has a pretty big crowd on the weekends.

It doesn’t help that my mood was a little testy to begin with.  I didn’t really want to leave Eden’s this morning. I wanted to stay, to play with her beautiful breasts, to lick her satiny skin, to reach deep inside her body with mine and drag out moans and gasps from her unwilling lungs.  That constant want left me distracted when I went to the beach.

After that, I came home and showered, torn between thoughts of what Eden’s body would look like all wet and soapy, and the asshole that I am for finding some amount of happiness when my own daughter can’t.

All in all, it left my mood a little sour before we even arrived at Bailey’s.  And now I’m having to contend with all the locals drooling over my beautiful date.

“Are you okay?” Eden asks as we take a seat at one of the few booths available in Bailey’s.

“Of course. Why?”

She watches me suspiciously, her hazel gray eyes searching mine for answers that I’m unwilling to give.  “Just curious.”

I open the menu and pretend to peruse it. I’ve got the whole thing memorized and I already know what I want. I just need a few minutes to collect myself, to conceal the growing agitation that must be reflected on my face.

“Hiya, sweetie,” Jordan slurs when she approaches the table to take our order.  She leans down to hug Eden.  “I’ve been meaning to get out to your place, but it looks like you’ve been plenty busy without my company,” she says loudly as she nods in my direction.

I scowl at her.

“Oh come on, Cole!  You know there’s no keeping secrets in this town. Everything comes out eventually.”

I grit my teeth.

“Maybe people should just mind their own business,” I say mildly, holding her brown eyes until her smile dies.

“Well,” Jordan says, clearing her throat and turning to Eden.  “What can I get you two tonight?”

Eden orders Emmy’s meal and then her own.  After I order and Jordan leaves, she announces, “Emmy and I are going to check out the jukebox.”  She says it with a smile, but I can see the tightness in her face.

She doesn’t give me time to respond, just gets up, waits for Emmy to slide out and then they walk off.

I’m screwing this up. I know I am.  But damn!  I feel kind of crazy today.  I’m used to feeling one of two emotions–pain or numbness.  Not all this other stuff.

I watch Eden as she walks away.  Her ass looks amazing in the jeans she’s wearing and her pink sweater fits her upper body to perfection.  Nearly every head turns as she passes.  Even the women look, although they’re probably either jealous because she’s so incredibly beautiful or appreciative of her relationship with her daughter. It’s plain to see that she adores Emmy and that she’s a good mother.  It’s there in the way Emmy looks up at her and the way Eden never lets go of her hand.

The longer I watch her, the more I realize that she’s the perfect woman. And the more I think about it, the more it eats at me that everyone else wants her, too.

She avoids my eyes as she walks back to the booth, making me feel even more like a shitheel for ruining her night out with Emmy.

I wait until they’re both situated back in the booth and Emmy is coloring before I speak.  “I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly.