R. Lilley - Lovely Trigger

And at the moment, she seemed to be very interested in my ex-husband.

I couldn’t recall them ever being linked in the gossip rags.  Though I liked to pretend I didn’t keep track, I was up to date enough that I thought I would have remembered this connection.

The girl was just so young.  Nineteen, if I was recalling it right.

She wasn’t too young to make him laugh, or to appreciate whatever he was saying enough to laugh herself, and to touch his arm several times, and just in general seem ecstatic to have his attention on her.

I turned around and left.  I didn’t need to see that, or hear it, or ever think about it again.

I couldn’t, however, manage to keep my mouth shut for even a second when he approached me again, several minutes later.

“God, it was bad before you were famous.  You must have to beat them off with a stick now.  Or not, I guess.  There’s plenty of you to go around.”

His expression, which had been smiling, wiped clean, becoming very blank.  “I don’t think we want to go there.  Either of us.”

I rolled my eyes, because it was no competition.  His revolving bedroom door and my locked one were not even in the same category.

“Am I allowed to ask if this is jealousy?”

I bristled.  “No, you’re not.  You do whatever you like.  It’s no business of mine.”

I started to move past him, but he caught my arm, turning me slowly back to him.

“That’s quite an invitation.  Anything I like, huh?  Let’s go back to your hotel room.  Right this second.”

I rolled my eyes, jerked my arm out of his hold, and stormed away.

TRISTAN

It took her hours to finish up, but I waited patiently.  Better to wait hours here, then days, weeks, months, somewhere else.  And in spite of all that had happened, I had no doubts that it was a very real possibility she would just cut me out again, if I didn’t press the issue now, tonight.

“This can’t be convenient for you,” she told me sassily as I held the door open for her.  Even her walk, limp and all, was sassy.

I felt myself getting hard.

“This isn’t really about convenience, now is it?” I asked her pointedly.

She didn’t answer, just folded her arms across her chest and stared at me.

The gallery shared a parking lot with a Cavendish resort, so I assumed she had a room there for the night, since it was clearly too late for her to make it back to Vegas.

“Let’s go talk in your room,” I said with a smile, watching her face for a reaction that I was way too excited about, considering that I knew it wouldn’t be a positive one.

She gave me a dirty look, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, my cock twitching restlessly.

“I’m so not taking you there.  No way in hell.”

I tried not to let my grin grow too big.  “I saw an all-night diner on my way here, maybe five minutes away.”

She gave her narrow eyed agreement to let me take her there.

We stared at each other across a tiny table and ordered cheeseburgers.  The table was so narrow that our legs would have touched if I hadn’t spread mine wide, letting hers rest between.

It was surreal, just to get to stare at each other under bright, unforgiving lights.

Of course, Danika didn’t need forgiving lights.  She was perfection, even under the harshest of conditions.  So beautiful that my chest was aching enough that my hand had been rubbing at it for a solid minute before I caught myself and lowered it.  And the entire time, I just kept drinking in the sight of her.

There were so many shocking, drastic changes and painful, wrenching similarities between the girl and the woman.  The girl had been playful, fresh-faced, and beautiful as a freshly bloomed flower.  The woman was quiet and elegant, and so heart-wrenchingly exquisite I would have given up another piece of my soul just to keep looking at her.

I couldn’t believe she’d let me have her again.  Even as I clearly recalled the encounter, how she’d let me inside of her, bare; let me come in her, skin on skin; let me empty myself deep inside of her, I almost felt as though I’d dreamed the whole thing.

That was all we did for the longest time, just stared at each other.  I was hesitant to be the first to start talking.  The faster we talked, the sooner this was over, and I was content to drag this out until dawn.

“Does this place even have good burgers?” she finally asked.  “Because I’m warning you right now, I’m not wasting calories on a bad one.”

I smiled fondly at her.  “What, you think I’ll get upset with you if you don’t eat the food you order?  Who do I look like, Ike Turner?”

She stifled a laugh, and then refused to look at me for a while, not talking either, just staring down at her hands in her lap while I marveled at how even the curve of her brow was just lovely.

Very slowly, I closed my legs until my knees touched each of hers.  I reached under the table, cupping her clenched hands in my grasping ones.

Her chest shuddered as she took in a very deep breath.  “So what are we doing here?  Tell me how you see this playing out.”

I wasn’t sure which version to give her, but I didn’t think I should start with the brutal truth.  I sugarcoated the hell out of it, going into pure survival mode.  “I think we should become friendly again.  I come say hi to you at work, we grab a bite to eat, and make each other laugh, etcetera, and so on.”

“And the rest.  What happened at the ranch, back at the gallery.  What’s your solution for that?”

To do it every chance we get, day or night, until we pass out, or hell, fucking keel over and die.

I had a very vivid but too short vision of her sprawled out naked on this very table, taking every inch of my cock, no, not just taking, begging for it.  I figured my chances of fucking her again this very night were slim to none, but a guy could dream.

I smiled pleasantly.  “Ball’s in your court.  You want platonic, I can do that.”

“I think that would be for the best.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral.  “Okay.  I think it’s pretty obvious; I’ll take what I can get.”

“Want to hear my theory on that insanity back there?”

I sighed.  I knew I wouldn’t like whatever she had come up with, but I humored her, “Yeah, shoot.”

“I think it’s some survival instinct kicking in, some biological, physical drive that kicks in when we’re near each other, because we never got real closure, so our bodies want to cling to each other, because we’re worried we’ll never get the chance again.  You can’t cut someone out of your life like that and not have closure.  We need closure.”

I wanted to quote my therapist to her.  He always said closure was a myth, or at least what people had turned it into was, but I stayed silent, because I wanted her to cling to this theory of hers.

This theory was my ally.  It clearly had her changing her tune after all these years.

I mean, I hated the theory, and I thought it was complete bullshit, but I was in no position to dispute it.  If I could have said what I wanted and not scare her off, I would have pointed out that it’d always been like that between us, there had always been the drive to touch, to feel each other in every way one human could touch another, inside, outside, body, soul.

But I couldn’t say what I wanted to say.  Not yet.

Step one:  Get back into her life again.

Everything else was secondary.  The rest would come with time, God willing.

“Maybe we should set up some ground rules, like only go out with a third wheel, some type of chaperone.”

My smile felt like it wanted to crack my face.  I really, really didn’t like that idea.  “Whatever you think is best.”

She sighed, as though conflicted about it.  “We’re two mature adults.  We shouldn’t have to resort to a babysitter.”

Here, here.

“We’ll keep our hands to ourselves.  It’s just that simple.”

The fuck it is, I thought, giving her my blandest smile.  I wasn’t optimistic enough to think I’d get to fuck her again anytime soon, but I spent a lot of time plotting out how I could get her to let me eat her pussy.  She became very receptive after I went down on her for a few minutes, I recalled.

I had a brief and intense fantasy where I buried my face between her legs and made her lose it.  I wanted to taste her, even if it was only for a moment.  I needed to know if I remembered even that last detail as well as I thought I did.  How long did a tongue’s memory last?  I badly wanted to find out.

My mind wandered to our encounter from earlier.  It had been so incredible.  The feel of her hot walls closing on me; God, I needed to get a grip.

I couldn’t believe that, even as I sat there, my dick was still covered in the evidence of what we’d done.  That got me thinking about how it couldn’t be that hopeless of a cause.

I started plotting ways to get up to her hotel room with her.

She was still talking, and I tried to pretend that I hadn’t been daydreaming about the things she was talking about never doing again.

“I don’t need conflict, I need peace.  I don’t need chaos, I need order.  I’m dealing with needs here, not wants, not wishes.  And you need to understand that.  You need to respect it.”

I made her look at me, straight in the eye, when I spoke.  “Whatever you need me to be, I’ll be that.  Whatever you want me to do, however we need to make this work, we will do it.”  And it was as I spoke that I realized that I couldn’t seduce her again so soon, certainly not tonight.

I needed to bind her to me again with more than the most incredible sex of my life.

We needed to become best friends again.  Yes, that was how I would do it.  I needed to become so essential in her life that she couldn’t conceive walking away.

I meant to break her.

Needed to break her.

Whether it be with deceit, subterfuge, cold calculation, or sheer willpower alone, I was set in my course.

She’d built a wall up against me.  A wall that seemed to me to be interwoven into her very soul.

For years, I’d thought that wall was impregnable.  But a few words, a few brief encounters had shown me that the wall wasn’t stone, but glass.

I meant to break it, and her, and anything that stood in my way.  I was going to shatter all of the things she used to keep us apart.

It had become my sole purpose.  And if she failed to give, to yield, I’d break myself in the process.

I was prepared for that.  At this point in my life, with what I’d learned from our separation, I was willing to risk it.

“So it’s pretty obvious you’re never going to call me.  Let’s start with baby steps.  How about you just start to actually answer when I call you?”

She chewed on her lip for a minute and then nodded.

“And we work in the same building, so how about I come by sometimes, and say hi, and you don’t call security, or hell, our boss, to get me to stay away?”

That got me a rueful smile and another nod.

“And you let me walk you up to your hotel room.  We can cuddle for a few hours, no funny business.”  I smiled.  She’d say no, but it would be sassy and cute, so I tried anyway.

She rolled her eyes, a corner of her pretty mouth kicking up.  “Not happening.”

“Well, I had to try.”

Our cheeseburgers arrived, and we ate.  The burger must have been good, because she ate the whole thing, wasting lots of her allotted calories on it.

I finished mine too, but I couldn’t have said if it tasted good.  I was too distracted, too focused on her, to notice I was even eating until the food was gone.  I’d inhaled the thing, the fries too.

She shook her head at me, still working on hers.  “Must be nice to get to eat however much of whatever you want and still have a perfect body.”

I grinned at her, the word body making me think of nothing but what mine could do to hers.  “I do spend two to three hours in the gym every day.  Weights and calories go hand in hand.”  I flexed my arms a bit, loving the way it drew her eyes and made them glaze over.  Only with Danika could workout talk become foreplay.

I ordered a milkshake after she finished her burger.  She declined dessert, though she eyed mine up hungrily when it arrived.

It was banana, not the real banana flavor, but the fake banana flavor.

I knew that was her favorite kind of shake.  I’d only ordered it to stall and draw the night out longer but when I saw the chance to torment her, I took it happily.