Macy dug through her drawers and checked under her bed relentlessly for her ringing cell phone. Her cell phone just disappeared, but the ringtone was still tantalizing her.
Glancing at her digital clock on her nightstand, she groaned, “Six forty?”
The washing machine buzzer had woken her up that morning while she was sweaty, needy and aching. All thanks to a certain Mr.Tall, Dark, and Dangerous.
“Wait,” she sighed, and felt her sweater pocket, “Damn, piece of…”
“Hello, Macy,” said, a cold, nasally voice. Her mother had never failed to sound like a true ice princess.
She yawned, “Hi, Mom.”
“I’ve been dialing for a while now, Macy, you should answer your phone.”
Putting the phone on speaker, she watched the clothes circle in the dryer, “I know, Mom, what did you need?”
There was a scoff, “I do not call my daughter only in times of need, but since you asked, your father needs you to come home.”
Anger boiled inside her gut, “And for what, may I ask?”
“The delegates are hosting a reception for the board and their families, considering you are my only child, I thought it’d be nice for you to make an appearance.”
“When would this be,” she asked, her hands were shaking with outrage.
“September 10th,” her mother replied, annoyance seeping into her voice.
Macy smiled, “I can’t, Mom, Stacey and Brett are going to be wedded that weekend.”
“That is more important than being there for your parents?”
“Stanley is not my father, Mom, and you haven’t been exactly motherly since dad died, and to be quite honest, Stacey and Brett are much more important to me than your asshole husband will ever be.”
Exasperated, she banged the little glass window with the heel of her hand. A shiver ran up her body considering she was dressed in only her hoodie and boy short panties.
She faced the doorway and leaned against the machine. She was closing her eyes when she noticed a massive figure leaning against the door frame, boot covered feet crossed at the ankles. Thinking it was a dream, she squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed the sleep from them, and tentatively opened them again.
Nope, not a dream, still a nightmare.
“I’m sensing you forgot I was here,” said, a raspy, deep voice.
Right, Caleb Walker. Part baseball player, full time sex god. She studied his figure in the dusk of the morning. His clothes were dry this time around, and better fitted. Aviators were hanging from the neck of his sweater, and she sensed she would be seeing those on him a lot.
“Why do you say that,” she said, a bit of sarcasm in her voice.
His eyebrows raised and he lowered his gaze down her body.
“Right, I, sort of, spaced out,” she said, rubbing her temples, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He laughed a little, “No, you didn’t.”
She felt him move, step into the small room, closing in on her, like a jungle cat circling it’s prey.
“Although I did manage to over hear the conversation with your mother,” he said, stopping just out of her reach.
She looked at her pink toes and wiggled them, feeling awkward.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.
She locked eyes with him, meeting his intense blue gaze. They were a pale, lighter color, like a color out of a child’s crayon box, and that’s exactly how she felt. As if she were a small child, refrained from everything bad in the world, mind full of endless dreams and fantasies.
“Did you now,” she managed to drawl out.
His eyes danced across her body, “Mhm.”
He took a step forward, making her take a step back into the washing machine. His body was radiating heat, she wanted to reach out and mold her body to his. Explore the solid mass of walking testosterone. Trace the outline of his muscles with her fingernails, taste the saltiness of his skin, get lost in everything that was Caleb Walker.
Her wayward thoughts were interrupted by a callused thumb grazing her bottom lip, “I’d really like to kiss you.”
Her breathing became shallow, uneven. Macy fought for something to say, anything, but rational thought had left her mind the second he stepped into her peripheral vision. Hell, since he had stepped into her life. His thumb continued to swiftly move against her skin, yet he managed to not let her make contact with his palm.
“But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do,” he whispered.
Her heart was racing, “It wouldn’t?”
“No, I would only want more,” he said, his head shaking, “And I would take more.”
Macy licked her lips in order to restore the moisture that had evacuated to a more favorable spot down south, “You can’t take what’s not up for grabs.”
“Your mouth says one thing,” his index finger perfectly finding the racing pulse of her neck, “but your body says another.”
Quick, Macy, think of something. She was fighting for the upperhand, straining for the vantage point.
She took all the force in her body and flipped them, “Are you familiar with the world of M&A?”
His pupils dilated, his irises glowing, a small growl came from his throat as he nodded.
Caleb felt the stitching of his jeans bite into his erection, he couldn’t take anymore. Never in his life had he felt his tempted, and he was still fully clothed.
Macy easily brought up one perfect, toned leg and draped it across his waist, “Comprosing, Mr. Walker, is the key to everything.”
He almost laughed at the challenge except for the fact that something deep inside him was burning. The embers of his need were glowing and growing hotter for the wildcat in his arms. The washing machine was shaking beneath his back, bringing his hands to her waist, he lifted her and set her on the machine.
“Why, Ms. Cunningham, you are in no position to compromise,” he mumbled.
Her ebony hair cascaded in waves alongside her face, her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes glimmering wickedly, “And you’d take advantage of a helpless little girl?”
He smiled, “Nothing little about you, baby.”
“Liota’s,” she said, innocence making an appearance in her eyes, “Tonight, at eight.”
He rested his forehead on hers, “I’m no good for you.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
He shook his head, his reserve crumbling under her green-eyed spell.
“Then it won’t be a date,” she breathed.
“Do you want it to be?”
He sighed, “It can’t be.”
She smiled at him, “Then it won’t be.”
“I’m a dangerous man to be involved with, Macy.”
She looked up at his darkened face, “Lucky for you, I’ve never been able to resist trouble.”
He wrapped his hands around her waist again, lifted her body and set her softly on the ground.
“I’ll be there,” he said, kissing her forehead.
She smiled up at him, “I’ll be waiting.”
Macy watched Caleb’s Harley make it’s way down the gravel hill, into the morning sun, listened to the roar of the engine turn into a soft purr.
She walked by her fire place, and focused on the picture of her father on the mantel. He was on the beach, holding Macy’s hand, blowing the camera a kiss, “He’s a tough one, huh, Pops?”
Whenever Macy thought of her father, she didn’t remember him at his weakest points, not when the cold hands of cancer had taken him, instead at times of warmth and joy. Kissing her finger tips and placing them on his forehead, she set it on the mantel once more and went in search for her textbooks.
Caleb Walker stood in shadows in the receding parts of the building. Darkness is where he felt most comfortable, it had grown to be his natural habitat. Liota’s was a small restaurant on the dock of Pier 56. It was surrounded by other little shops, one in particular cought his attention, a book shop. It seemed abnormal for a bookshop to have been put in between a candy shop and a souvenir store, but who was he to judge, he lived a strange life.
Done with his observing, he moved to a different spot along the wooden railing of the dock. He made himself visible to passing people, he made himself seem, normal. It was a beautiful June night in Seattle, warm weather, twinkling stars and relaxed aura, Caleb closed is eyes for a moment and inhaled. Intake the summer breeze, the light chatter of content people. Exhale.
A soft hand touched his bicep, causing him to stiffen.
He flinched at the touch, no one had ever snuck up on him. No one had ever been able to, he’d never let that happen.
Opening his eyes he felt the hair on his neck rise, “I, uh, wow.”
He stammered for words, damn it. He was always in control, always collected, forever peaceful. Having the upperhand was his repertoire, but this vixen seemed to be taking everything he’s ever known and marking it as her own.
He glanced over Macy, a cream dress that ended above her knee, tight enough to show her curves, but loose enough to exude respect. Her small feet were in nude heels, and he looked for a purse, but just found a small black walet in her left hand. He almost laughed, did she really think she was paying for this date? Well, not a date, but whatever this was.
Her dark hair cascading around her shoulders in soft waves, her pink pouty lips formed into a smile. Her eyes held him captive, making him putty, and he was all hers to mold.
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew him.
“You look,” he took a deep breath, “beautiful.”
A slight blush covered her cheeks, “As do you.”
He smiled, “Shall we?”
“Absolutely, I’m starving.”
When they were finished with their meal, a meal he insisted on paying for, Caleb helped her from her chair, and opened the door for her.
“You do realize chivalry died in the last century,” she said, in awe.
He looked at her glowing face, “My parents would’ve had my ass if I weren’t a gentleman to any woman.”
“Do you see them often?”
He blinked, “Whenever I need to.”
She didn’t exactly know how to respond to that, “How old are you, anyway?”
He sighed, “Thiry six.”
“You are a classic,” she said, with a playful grin spreading across her face.
He chuckled, “Something like that, you?”
“Twenty four,” she replied, cooly.
He stopped and turned his body to face hers, “Think about it, when I was going to senior prom, you were entering kindergarten.”
She looked up at his face. A residual smile lingering on his face, giving her a glimpse of perfect white teeth. His beard was trimmed down close to be flat on his face. Every cell in her body was screaming to rub her skin againt his face and feel the burn of hair.
Macy stood there, transfixed by the transformation of his entire demeanor. A simple smile had lifted his face, making him appear younger, carefree, almost, happy. Untile she met his fierce blue gaze. She never believed people who said eyes were the windows to the soul until now. She was staring into the eyes of a man who was so tightly reined, he was afraid of nothing. She saw power, hunger and a control so strong it almost shook her.
Caleb stood there, looking down at her. Her skin glowing in the light of the moon, he was watching her, counting her breaths, tallying the freckles on her nose. He found himself smiling at the thought of being happy just by looking at her.
Her little hand came up to cup his jaw, “I’d do anything for that smile on your face, right now.”
Her low whisper moved over his body like a gradient warmth, heating places he knew were far too cold. His eye lids drifted down, and he leaned into her touch. He was allowing himself this one moment. Forgetting everything he’s evern known, all he’s ever hid.
Somewhere deep in his body, something sighed with content and relief. He left a trail of women he’s been with over the years, but no of them had an effect like Macy did. Before her, women were only good for one thing. He made it known all he wanted was sex, and he made damn sure he didn’t share a bed with any of them. But now, he wanted nothing more than to spend the night in her bed, holding her body close to his. Take her warmth, share his secrets, talk about their childhoods.
“You need to walk away from me, Macy,” he said in a hoarse voice, “God knows I can’t.”
He opened his eyes to see her defeated expression.
Her hand left his face, "Why are you so againt someone giving a shit about you, Caleb?"
His head jerked around, "Leave, Macy."
Her chest expanded with a deep breath, "Alright."
With that, she turned on her feel and walked away from him without looking back.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-stories/read-between-the-lines-chapter-2.aspx">Read between the lines- Chapter 2</a>