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"You were so happy when you said your parents would be back, and now this…" She rests her head against my chest. She runs her fingers over my back, pressing the soft fabric of my shirt into my skin. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No." My voice is a whisper. It's not like me.
This whole fucking thing… it's not like me.
Lacey looks up at me. "You want a drink? I think I have some tequila somewhere. And I have tea. Chamomile might be good. It's soothing. Or… just water." She doesn't wait for a response. She breaks out of the embrace, moves to the kitchen, and pours two glasses of water.
Her hands are shaking.
Even now, I want to soothe her a million times more than I want her soothing me.
She steps out of her heels and kicks them to the corner. Her eyes follow the shoes, even as she turns and hands me the water.
It's a tiny apartment. There isn't much room for space between us, but it's still there.
No, that's how it's supposed to be. How it always is. Violet was right at dinner. I don't invite women into my life. I don't want intimacy beyond a fuck. Even tying someone up is too much a lot of the time.
But this… I don't like the space between me and Lacey.
I don't like that I don't like it.
I bring the glass to my lips and down half of it.
Lacey drinks slowly. Her eyes flit from the ground to me. "I want to help, Mal. Tell me something I can do to help. Anything."
"You are."
"Yeah?"
I nod. She is and that's nearly as terrifying as the rest of this. I down what remains of my water and set my glass on the counter.
Lacey does the same.
She places her body behind mine and wraps her arms around my waist. Her chin nudges against my upper back. "My shower is a little small, but we can make it work."
I should push away from that kind of intimacy, but I don't. I nod.
She lets out a tiny sigh of pleasure. "I get to strip you out of your nice clothes."
I turn around so we're face to face. "Is it that exciting?"
She looks up at me with a nod. "Yeah." She slides her hands up my tie and undoes the knot. "You look like such a nice boy in this suit."
"Boy?"
"Man." She pulls my tie from my collar and wraps it around her wrist. "It's hard to explain. You wear that suit. You could easily step into some office and assume the role of boss. But you're Mal—"
"The rock god?"
"Yes, but that's not the first thing I think." She tosses my tie on the bed then undoes the top button of my shirt. Her fingers skim the bare skin of my chest. "You're Mal… my… whatever I should call this." Her eyes fix on mine. "I'm not good with words."
"I get what you mean." I run my fingers through her hair as she works her way down my torso. It feels good, her hands on my skin. Better than it has any right to feel, given our relationship, given the circumstances.
She undoes my belt and pulls it from my slacks. That too, she tosses on the bed.
I shrug off my shirt and step out of my shoes.
She unbuttons my slacks and watches them fall to my feet. Her fingers skim the edges of my boxers. She presses her foot against the ankle of my dress socks. "Just the way I like my men, in socks and underwear."
