73 #Victory?

 

[12:37AM]JON: Coming up the driveway.  Finally.

 

Teddi put aside her phone and turned the desk light off, wiping damp palms on her pajama pants while stepping into the entry hall.  He’d had trouble getting a charter plane at the last-minute tonight, so the trip took a little longer than the predicted two hours.  It had given her ample opportunity to change clothes six times, worry about how tonight – and tomorrow morning – would turn out, and obsess over whether things had changed between them the way she thought they had. 

 

That obsession was what fueled all the wardrobe changes.  Instinct had told her to wear something sexy, like a see-through lace gown, but once she put it on and looked in the mirror, it was hard to forget the way this week had gone.  They hadn’t spoken since the day Deidre arrived in the Hamptons, which was a full week ago.  Whether that was by design or by happenstance wasn’t clear, but it felt a lot like she knew two men at this point – the Fantasy JBJ and Reality Jon she’d teased about during one of their text chats.

 

Reality Jon was the man on the other end of the text messages.  He was the one who cared how she was doing, invested himself in the peculiarities of her life, and played the part of a bully for her own good.  He felt an awful lot like… a friend. 

 

How did that relate to Fantasy JBJ, though?  He was the man with whom she’d had mindless andmind-blowing sex, completely independent of her mental issues and real personality.  Teddi wasn’t sure she knew how to do that with the gentleman who now knew why she didn’t have children, that she’d been dumped in favor of Deidre and about her very real fear of his children. 

 

That confusion was how she ended up wearing a pair of men’s-style pajamas.  The beige silk made it obvious that they were designed for a woman, but they were also nondescript enough to be suitable for a slumber party… between friends.    

 

She clasped the filigree pendant in her fingertips as headlights flashed past the door windows, lighting the dim entryway more brightly than the little lamp on the hall table.

 

He hasn’t changed.  It’s only your perception that’s changed.  He’s still the same man who screwed you silly two weeks ago. 

 

At least, she assumed he was.  Until she opened that door, there was no way of knowing whether she’d slipped into “the friend zone”, and Teddi was floundering in the uncertainty.

 

The knob turned under her hand, and when she pulled the door inward, he was there.  The porch light revealed a weary smile, rumpled hair and whiskered jaw, but his eyes sparkled as he stepped inside.  His baby blue t-shirt was comfortably wrinkled but emphasized his tan and, as uncertain as she was about what was going to happen tonight, she still managed a fond glance for the ankle tattoo left exposed by flip-flops and cargo shorts. 

 

“Hi, baby,” he murmured before touching gentle lips to Teddi’s cheek. 

 

A cheek kiss, generic “baby”, and no hug.  Are those signs of change in our relationship, or is he just tired?

 

“Hello.”  The quiet greeting was chased by the perfunctory upturn of her mouth as she closed and locked the door. 

 

“Sorry it took so long.  Fucking red tape and nosy kids made it harder to get here than it should’ve been.  Got any wine?”

 

“Of course.”  She led the way to the kitchen, flipping on the light and making a beeline for the refrigerator.  “Glasses are in that far cabinet.  Grab one for yourself while I get the bottle.”

 

“You’re not joining me?”

 

She was still in the phase of trying not to medicate with alcohol or sedatives, and loose hair skimmed her shoulders when she turned back around with a shaking head.  “I don’t think so.  Did your kids give you grief over coming here?”

 

“Nah.  They just wanted to know why I was in a hurry, when I’d be back… shit like that.  Ahh,” he hummed approvingly upon seeing the wine label.  “How did you know grigio was calling my name?”

 

“figured a break from the house brand might help you appreciate it more when you go back.”

 

“When we go back.”  The correction was gentle yet firm as he straddled a kitchen stool and watched pale vino flow into the glass. 

 

“Right.”  She flashed an agreeable smile and tapped the cork back into the bottle as he drank and eyed her over the rim while his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow.  Teddi needed to do a better job at pretending anxiety wasn’t simmering inside her, so she infused some energy into her voice.  “I hope the flight was uneventful.”

 

“It was.  You wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

 

Yet she did.  Even before he targeted it with a pointed gaze, she realized the aromatherapy pendant was rolling between her thumb and forefinger.  Dropping it like a hot potato, she instead scooped up the wine bottle to top off his glass. 

 

“You that nervous about tomorrow already?”

 

“No.”  There wasn’t room for the future on her radar when the unclear present filled it to capacity, but it was silly to allow it to consume her.  She held a damn doctorate in communication studies.  She needed to communicate.   “Do you mind if I ask why you came tonight?”

 

Confusion pleated the skin between his eyebrows like an accordion.  “Because you asked me to?”

 

Teddi patiently returned the bottle to the countertop and picked at the curling label with a deep breath.  That’s what she got for not stating the question clearly enough. 

 

“And I very much appreciate your willingness to accommodate my whim.  I was more wondering whether you made the decision so you could hold my anxiety shaking hand, have sex or chat over a glass of wine.” 

 

The corners of his mouth went tight with displeasure before he took obvious pains to put it aside.  “Since this is the longest separation we’ve had in our relationship, I’m trying not to be a dick, but for future reference… the insecurity thing is a major turnoff.  It’s sure as fuck not what I want to deal with when I finally get to see you.”

 

“Just stop right there,” she ordered with an upheld hand.  “My family drama is also a turnoff, and you’ve been dealing with it incessantly during a week that you chose to communicate solely through text messages.”

 

“I texted because you talk more freely that way.  Because you seem more comfortable with it.”

 

“But you aren’t.  You hate that little electronic keyboard.  I kept expecting you to call, if for no other reason than to coerce me into using that remote-control sex toy, but you seem to have abandoned that idea as quickly as it came.  From my perspective, the tone of our relationship has changed, and I simply want to know where things stand.  Are you here as my therapist, friend or lover?” 

 

The explanation she’d thought would defend her actions only irritated him further.  “For the record… all that shit you just said is insecurity, no matter how you try and sell it.”

 

“Uncertainty and insecurity are very different things,” she contested.  “I’m trying to respect your wishes.”

 

“Dammit, we’ve progressed past the stage of celebrity crush and doting fan.  You don’t have to cater to my wishes to spend time with me.  I’m your therapist, friend and lover. And you’re anything you wanna be.”  Fatigue met with fire in the depths of his eyes, creating a dull blaze that burned away the travel weariness.  A peculiar tension thrummed in his aura like a drumroll as he turned the tables.  “What are your wishes?”

 

Teddi would’ve wished for him to come in the door with an insatiable desire that swept them to the boudoir for a tangle of sweaty limbs and satisfaction.  At the very least, she would’ve wished for a hug tinged with desperation to hold her.  Anything in between the two would’ve prevented this gruellingly awkward conversation, which she’d endured long enough. 

 

She pushed away the wine bottle and stepped into the vee of his splayed legs, cradling his jaw with both hands.  A gentle pressure tilted his face to the perfect angle for Teddi’s hungry lips to claim the kiss she’d ached for at the front door. 

 

Jon didn’t shy away from or discourage her searching tongue.  He met it with a powerful stroke as an equally powerful hand clamped onto the back of her head.  She would’ve known it held her prisoner had she tried to escape, but escape wasn’t in the plans.  Her immediate goal was to drown in the saltwater scent that mingled with his signature summer musk and formed her new favorite pheromone cocktail.  It was ideally blended to lure a dormant Gypsy soul, and hers sauntered out to make rigorous love to his mouth.

 

Losing track of who or where she was, Teddi kissed him with the longing she kept buried like an age-old corpse.  She swept aside all the beige curtains that cloaked her spirit and swept him into the Gypsy tent where her unbridled heart lived.   It felt amazing to set herself free and release the plaguing worry.  To know that the man whose strong hands squeezed her buttocks wanted this.  Wanted her. 

 

Accepted her. 

 

She came up for air, shoulders heaving with the effort to breathe as she tracked a fingertip over Jon’s damp and puffy lips.  The dark cores of his eyes overpowered the blue, and the darkness was the perfect backdrop for his thoughts, which she could read like a crystal ball.  They were carnal and raw, softened by a tenderness that she couldn’t bear to look at.  It stirred wishes that had nothing to do with sex, friendship or therapy. 

 

“I want your beige bed,” he murmured.  “It’s time, Cookie.  Give it to me.”

 

The unwanted wishes collided with fear, flash-freezing her heart and body into stillness.  “Don’t ask me for that.  Not tonight.”

 

“Then when?” 

 

“I… don’t know.  Just not tonight.”  She would’ve stepped away if the hands cupping her backside had any give to them at all, but his grip was rock solid and refused her escape.

 

“Look at me.” She didn’t want to.  She didn’t want to see the tenderness again – or worse, his condemnation of her peculiarities – but he was persistent.  “Teddi, look at me.”

 

With great reluctance, she did as he asked, and what she found was neither tenderness nor judgment.  It was the same acceptance she’d felt from him five seconds ago, but it didn’t travel alone.  It was accompanied by a fierce determination. 

 

“This house belongs to you.  It’s not your grandmother’s.  It’s not Truman’s.  Whatever they think appropriate or inappropriate doesn’t make any friggin’ difference here.  You’re the same person in every room – a respected PhD, skull bumpist, cookie baker, Gypsy daughter and fish mama.  A beautiful, intelligent, refined, polite, witty, wicked, and sexy as hell woman.  If this house is where you choose to live the majority of your life, then fucking live the way you want to live.”

 

She squirmed under his hold, discomfited by the overt demands he was making, but he didn’t relinquish his grip.  “Jon…”

 

“I will fuck you in that bed,” he declared, with no room for argument.  “And not because you surrender to me.  Owning who you are in that room will be your conquest, not mine.”

 

The ultimatum wasn’t delivered with ominous intent way, but it was the first time Teddi could recall fearing the man whose arms imprisoned her. 

 

He could spank or try his hand at taking control in the bedroom.  Those things didn’t bother her.  They were part of the game.  This, though….  His caring and the vulnerability it stirred…  The desire to trust him with everything…

 

It wasn’t a game. 

 

Not a single soul, living or dead, had held her trust without betraying her in some way.  Her mother’s death, her maternal grandmother’s abandonment to the Peabodys, her father’s rejection, her paternal grandmother’s cruel methods of discipline, her brother’s and sister’s innate viciousness…  Even her cousins had each betrayed her on some level, from forcing her out into public to conspiracy. 

 

The pain he inflicted could be far worse, because she wasn’t only tempted to give him her trust, but her heart.  All of it. 

 

“You’ll have me in that bed if you put on a pair of handcuffs,” she retorted lightly, with a smile that would effectively conceal her fear.  He couldn’t know.  She didn’t want him to know how close she was to diving off an idiotic cliff.  “And since we both know that’s not happening, put aside the therapist persona.  I’d like to do wicked things with my lover.”

 

There was a beat in which she thought he saw right through her.  A moment when she suspected he may call her bluff, but he only shook his head. 

 

“You and those goddamn handcuffs,” he muttered, turning her around with a pat on the rear.  “Get your ass up to the cauldron of color and strip.  I’m too tired to argue with you tonight.  I just wanna fuck.”

 

While the victory was exactly what she’d hoped for, as he pushed her up the stairs toward the prize, Teddi wasn’t feeling all that victorious.