Page 21 of Mine to Tease

Quickly, I browse the candy aisle, tossing all the basics into my basket—Reese’s, Hershey’s, KitKats—and a few others, including one of my favorites, the Ghirardelli Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramel. But what if she’s not in the mood for chocolate? On the next aisle over, I stock up on all things sour—Sour Patch Kids, Skittles, even those Nerd cluster things. Weird. Even with a basket full of junk, I know I’m forgetting something. In all the time I’ve known her, she’s never been much of a snacker except when she’s at home and she likes… Grabbing a chocolate iced honey bun and some Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, I head to the checkout and quickly make my way back to the shop.

My artist nearest the entrance gives me a knowing look as I return with two large paper bags filled to the brim. He hasn’t said anything, but he was one of the first to pick up on me and Anastasia. Of course, he doesn’t know the parameters of our relationship, only that there is a mutual attraction and something going on between us. I suppose it’s obvious by how much time I’ve been spending in her shop and the fact that I’ve walked her home almost every night for the past month—every night until this week. I offer him a shrug and he returns my look with a hopeful smile.

Reaching the stairs, I take them two at a time, impatience coursing through me. It’s been too long since Ana and I have been together. I can’t go another night, day, weekend, or week without her. Even if all she wants to do is eat this junk and sit in silence, I’m okay with that. I just need us to be on the same page. Though, as I enter her shop to find her photographing herself wearing nothing but a bit of black lacy lingerie, I find myself all the more confused, and yet intrigued.

I’m quiet as I move farther into the room, stunned by what I see—her slender frame in that skimpy black material; the way the thong bottom rides up her ass, accentuating each cheek; the golden tint to her skin; her large, tousled curls that look as if she was just fucked or she’s begging to be fucked. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her, and yet thoughts of who else could’ve walked in on her just as easily have my hands balling into fists. As they do, the paper bags crinkle, the sudden noise alerting her of my presence.

Ana jumps and screams at my intrusion, her ass shaking as she does. Spinning to face me, she brings her hands up to cover her breasts out of instinct. “Damon!” she yells. I can’t help but laugh at her reaction.

“No need to hide, sweetheart. It’s just me. Although, I may need to get you a door installed if this is what you’ll be doing up here.” At that, I drop the bags on her checkout counter and take a few steps toward her. The simple sight of her has my dick twitching in my pants. Though, remembering what’s in the bags and why, I do my best to suppress my urges.

As I move closer to her, I realize that’s for the best, as she takes a step back from me. My brows furrow as I note her body language—tense and closed-off—as she continues to conceal her breasts with her palms. It’s then that I notice the expression on her face. Her cheeks are red with a fresh blush and her messy curls threaten to conceal her gorgeous features made even more sensual and dramatic by her dark eyeshadow. And yet, I see enough to know she isn’t exactly pleased to see me. She watches me with a careful gaze. Her lips part in surprise rather than desire. Her expression stops me dead in my tracks.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “I just wasn’t expecting you or anyone, for that matter. It’s not Brinkley’s potty time yet. In fact, we were just about to head home, a bit early tonight.”

“And is that what we’re regulated to now? Brinkley’s shit schedule?” I ask. She rolls her eyes and finally lowers her hands. I can’t help but steal a quick glance, finding her peach-colored nipples partially visible in the semi-sheer fabric. Just as I lift my eyes back to hers, she turns, moving toward her iPhone held up on some sort of tripod.

“Not necessarily, it’s just, you know, I’m busy this week.”

“Mm-hmm. Busy,” I repeat. I watch her move around the space, and Brinkley scurries up to me and licks my shoes. “Hey, little buddy,” I whisper, rubbing him behind his ears. Ana gives the two of us a pointed look as if we’re conspiring against her.

“You sound as if you don’t believe me,” she remarks before grabbing a black silk robe from the chair nearest her. Draping it over her shoulders, finally, she moves closer to me.

“I don’t know. I thought you were avoiding me. I thought maybe you got your period and you didn’t want to do anything, so you decided to keep your distance. But if that’s the case, you can tell me. You know I’d never force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. Although, for the record, I’m not afraid of a little blood, or a lot of blood. I, um, brought you snacks,” I say, motioning to the bags behind us.

“You did?” Ana’s voice is soft as her eyes move to the checkout counter. She walks toward the bags with a smile on her face, her eyes bright. Watching her demeanor change eases the tightness in my chest.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I got a little of everything—something sweet, something sour, even something spicy.” At that, she pulls the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos from the bag. She hugs them and pinches her eyes closed as if I’ve just given her a diamond necklace. I let out a soft chuckle. “I’m glad I did something right. You had me worried there.” She opens her eyes, bringing her gaze to mine. There’s an expression on her face I can’t quite read. She’s not angry, but happy would be a strong choice of word. Perhaps I spoke too soon.

“Thank you, Damon,” she says. “This…this is really sweet and thoughtful. I really appreciate it.” Her words are of gratitude but there’s still something off with her body language, as is obvious by her refusal to meet my gaze for longer than a few seconds. She lowers her head then.

“You’re welcome.” Bringing my finger to her chin, I gently guide her eyes back to mine. “But something tells me there’s something you aren’t telling me. What’s going on in that head of yours, baby bird?” It’s then that her lip quivers, and a small wrinkle forms on her forehead as she fights back emotion. “Hey, hey, don’t cry.” Immediately, I pull her to me, wrapping my arms tightly around her. My heart races as I try to make sense of what’s going on. Are these good emotions or bad? Is she scared or is she sad? Is it me or is it someone else? I feel so lost and I hate it. I rub my hand up and down her back as I consider the possibilities. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. You can talk to me. I just need to understand, Anastasia.”

“You mean the same way I need to understand you?” she asks. And with that simple question, I’m reminded of our conversation before Angelo arrived. How could I have forgotten? Or maybe I didn’t forget. Maybe I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Clearly, I was wrong.

The pain in her voice slices through my heart, leaving an ache in my chest I know I won’t be able to escape until I make this right. But how can I? Before Angelo arrived, she was about to pose an ultimatum in a desperate attempt to improve our intimacy. She wants to understand me, know me. But how can I allow her to when the truth would ruin us? More than us, her time in New Orleans would feel like a lie. Hell, maybe it has been a lie. Everything except my feelings for her has been. I don’t know what to say to fix this, save us, and protect her from the truth all at once.

As I continue to hold Ana in my arms, she returns my embrace. She sinks into me as if giving in to the defeat I saw on her face that night she left the parlor. As she does, my skin turns cold as her fresh tears soak through my T-shirt. My hands steady on her back as I close my eyes. I never want to see her cry. Even more so, I never want to be the reason.

“I have been avoiding you, Damon,” she says then, her voice muffled as she rests her cheek against my chest. “Not because I was on my period, although I was. I just…” She stops herself then as a fresh wave of tears escape her. I can feel her squint her eyes closed and hold her breath as she cries. Her movements force me to open my own eyes and pull her tighter against me. Her body becomes so still in my arms, so still and yet so wrecked by sadness, I can’t take it. At that, I release her from my arms, though only for a second, as I lift her, placing her on the cashier’s counter as I’ve done so many times before.

“Just what?” I ask her then. My voice is low and scratchy as I speak. Gently, I bring my fingers to her cheek and brush her curls from her face as well as the damp remnants of her tears.

As she brings her eyes to mine, there are a thousand unspoken words behind them. And yet, the ache in my chest lets me know I may not want to hear them. She takes a deep breath then and closes her eyes as she contemplates what to say next. With every second that passes, I can feel her slipping away. Bringing my thumb to her lip, I fight the urge to kiss her, to shove my tongue so far down her throat she can’t speak. As long as those words remain unspoken, our bond remains unbroken. Though, I don’t. I can’t. I need to know the truth of how she feels. It’s the only way I can know how to move forward. Though, it seems I’ll have to wait as the silence between us is interrupted by an alarm going off on Anastasia’s phone.

Ana jumps at the loud noise. I reach for her phone on the countertop next to her, quickly disabling it. Though, as I do, a text appears at the top of the screen from someone named Christian. It reads, See you soon, beautiful.

23

My eyes burn at the sight of the text. I blink, certain I’m seeing things. And yet, as I fix them on the small screen once more, the text is still there, as is Ana’s hand on my biceps as she notices my body go rigid. “Damon,” she says, her voice rising with anxiousness. Her eyes move between me and the device. At that, my hand clenches around the phone and begins to shake as I fight the urge to crush it. Believe me, with the rage bubbling inside me in this very moment, I’m sure I could. Slowly, I release my grip and place the phone back on the counter. It’s then that I stand tall and look forward. Refusing to look at her, I find my reflection in the mirror behind her. My lips press into a flat line and my eyes narrow into a deadly glare. If looks could kill, this one would strike twice.

“Who the fuck is Christian?” His name scrapes through my throat as I speak it. Ana takes a deep breath then. Lowering her head as she sits before me, she removes her hand from my arm just as her fingers begin to tremble. Fuck. The only acceptable answer in this moment is no one, and yet, that is not the answer I receive.

Quietly, she says, “He’s someone I met last week…who I’m having dinner with tonight.” Ana keeps her head down as her words hit me. My lip twitches and my jaw clenches in response, my face tight as I do my best to suppress my anger.

“So, you’re going on a date?” I ask, finally directing my gaze from the mirror to her. “Those pictures you were taking, were they for him?” The mere thought has me balling my fists and cracking my knuckles. “Tell me, Ana! Were they for him?” There’s a bite in my voice I’ve never used with her and it kills me, but I can’t help it. This is too much.

---