CHAPTER 18
One Year Ago-The Anniversary
Asher: Do you know what the worst thing ever is? Shopping.
Charis: Word.
Asher: All you do is wait. Wait for traffic. Wait in line. Waiting to wait.
Charis: Preaching to the converted here, dude. Get to the point.
Asher: I have to buy Aura an anniversary gift. Our two-year dating anniversary is coming up Monday.
Charis: How about getting her some jewelry? She wears those great necklaces.
Asher: Been there, done that. She's been hinting she wants more than jewelry.
Charis: More than jewelry, okay. Uh … what's her favorite band? Does she need workout shoes? I know, hair bows … get her some big black velvet ones, it'll look so cool with her hair. Or hey, what about a gift card to one of her favorite stores?
Asher: She wants a teddy.
Charis: A teddy bear?
Asher: No, a teddy.
Charis. Oh! You mean a boob frame. That kind of teddy.
Asher: What are you talking about?
Charis: What the breasted of the world wear to show off their assets. You laugh, he of the perfect proportions, but you have no idea what it's like to have a whole class of undergarments sneer at you every time you shop for underwear.
Asher: You should sneer right back.
Charis: That's what I do. I give the rack the finger. I'm just saying … what am I saying? I forgot my train of thought. So she wants a teddy, what's the problem?
Asher: I hate shopping. That's the problem.
Charis: All right, pest. Give me a hundred bucks and I'll get it for you.
Asher: What, you'd face the sneering teddies for me?
Charis: For you, I will. But you have to promise not to say one word when you see it.
Asher: What would I say? I'm innocent, I tell you, innocent.
Charis: Huh. Aura has a figure like Raquel Welch, which means I could use one of the boob cups to support my whole ass. I swear, one lifted eyebrow, mister, and it gets stuffed up yours.
Asher: Deal.
Asher
CHARIS WASN'T SECURE in her body?
If she'd thrown a lit hand grenade at me, I couldn't have been more stunned.
I screwed up then, by doing something completely and utterly insensitive.
I laughed.
That cloddish reaction had one positive result. She stopped looking like she was about to burst into tears. She glowered and shoved me hard with both hands, making me stumble and nearly trip over a passing dog.
"Sorry, cool, it's cool!" I said to the man holding the leash.
Then it was a matter of trailing Charis as she stomped off without looking back. Once out from under our nook, the rain lashed down on us.
I didn't try to speak to her. I just followed meekly. I barely noticed the moving umbrellas we passed. Actually, the way I was feeling, the water and wind felt good. It was replenishing, made me feel alive. I felt like a kid who'd just been let in on a grownup secret.
I'd just gained insight into what made Charis tick.
When she reached her building, I wouldn't let her close me out, sticking my foot in the door. Yeah, it was an aggressive move, but my cause was righteous. I followed her down the hall.
"This is not a good idea," she began as her apartment door shut behind us.
"This is a perfect idea," I argued, and picked her up-hat, wet coat, boots, and all.
Carrying a wakeful, soaking, squirming woman was about twenty pounds heavier than holding a limp, dry, drunken one. When I tossed her down on the bed, she lay there for a split second, looking astonished. Then she was bounding up, and I was coming down on her. Wet coat, boots, and all.
"You're soaking my bed, Norrell."
I tugged off her hat and smoothed her hair down. "Water has this amazing property. It's called evaporation. Let me explain. The water cycle begins in the atmosphere. When a hot front meets a cold-"
"You blockhead, you're crushing me." Her laughter never failed to make me smile.
"No, I'm not. You can breathe fine."
She gave an exaggerated sigh.
"You of all people," I said, growing serious, "can't have body issues."
Immediately she tensed. "What the hell do you know about it? Anyone can have body issues. Your sister Ryanna has body issues. Winona has body issues, Mel has body issues, your Aunt Ruthie has them and so does your mom. Even Douglas does."
"Doug?" That gave me pause.
"His hair."
"Premature balding is not body issues."
"That's not the point!"
"I'm not talking about my siblings. I'm talking about you. I mean sure, you joke about your-" my eyes flitted down briefly to her chest, "-self, but you never sound really serious, like you give a fuck."
"Well it wasn't your business how I felt, was it?"
"Anything about you is my business."
I felt the jolt that gave her. I could see the wheels turning in her head. Then: "Listen, whippersnapper-"
"No." I cut her short. "No treating me like a kid. Not even jokingly. This is serious, Char. What the hell do you think is wrong with your body?"
She swallowed. Squirmed. I liked the squirming, but not what caused it. "You've said it yourself. I have the figure of a twelve-year-old boy."
"You've said that, not me. I just haven't contradicted you."
"Same difference."
"Not the same." I shook my head. "And you don't have the figure of a twelve-year-old boy. I can guarantee you that is a false and unsupported statement."
"It doesn't matter what you think. What's important is what I think and I think I have the body of a twelve-year-old-what? What did I say?"
Because she'd felt my flinch.
"Thanks a fucking lot for telling me it doesn't matter what I think. It's basically what Aura told me and you know what? I'm tired of women saying my opinion doesn't matter. I'm a fucking guy and I'm telling you I'm shaking like a leaf at the idea of lifting up that flimsy top you're wearing because you don't have the fucking body of a twelve-year-old boy!"
Her jaw dropped. "Okay, you don't have to-ah, crapitude."
I was shifting, sitting up on her and getting to work on her buttons. It took me no time at all to part her coat, to spread it out on the bed, forming a puffy scarlet backdrop for her body.
When I saw what I'd revealed, I groaned.
Her long, creamy arms, perfectly shaped shoulders, the mint colored top that did nothing to hide the bold projections of her nipples, the skin-tight jeans that molded to every subtle curve, including the sweet pad of her crotch …
"What was I saying?" I said stupidly as blood rushed south.
"You were making a point." For all her nonchalance, I saw her heels digging into the mattress, her fists clenching repeatedly by her side.
Those impudent nipples. How could I have missed noticing them all these years? "Yeah, I was making a point," I said thickly. "Tell me honestly, Sloane, are your tits why you wear those bulky sweaters all the time?"
Her mouth opened, then shut.
I waited, noting with interest when the tits in question got harder, stretching the fabric and making my fingers twitch.
"What, ah, what are you going on about? And stop using that word, unless you want to be kicked."
"Feel free," I invited. "Since you ask, I'm going on about your nipples. They're … "
"What?" she said quickly.
"They're a cock-tease. They make me … " I wrenched my gaze away from those tempting points and met her eyes. "They'd make any guy itch to work them over."
"What does that even mean?"
My vision went smoky as I envisioned doing it. "You ever come from having your tits played with?"
Her gasp gave me my answer.
"Answer my question, Sloane."
"Yes, okay?" she burst out. "I have big nipples and I wear tops that cover them, including heavy sweaters and multiple layers. I even have special padded compression bras to keep them under control. If I hadn't spilled pizza on my last clean one, I'd be wearing it now. Is that a crime?"
"I'd say so. But that wasn't the question I was referring to."
Now her hands were plucking her coat's plush red lining and she was eying me like I was the Big Bad Wolf.
Good. She should be wary.
I planted my hands to either side of her head and leaned over her. "I asked," I said in measured syllables, "have you ever had a dude tease and suck your nipples until your pussy had a nice little orgasm?"
I knew she hadn't, but I was no longer seeking information. I was riding a high. Because Char was hot. Hotter than hot. Her tits were swollen to the max. Her face was beet red, even her cute little ears. And her legs were moving restlessly. Her signal array was blasting arousal.
"In a minute," I rasped, "I'm going to raise that shirt to your neck. I'm going to check you out. Then I'm going to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs."
Now her chest was jerking up and down, making her nipples bob, and I bit down another groan.