Because of You

Joe whistled the whole ride home.

I sat beside him and let myself smile, even as the A/C kissed the bare, oversensitive skin between my thighs and raised a trail of goosebumps. No panties had been a mistake. Or a confession I hadn’t said out loud yet. Every red light, every shift of my hips, I felt how wet I already was.

In the restaurant, the script before him… he hadn’t hesitated. A far cry from that first stunned pause when Zoe asked him to direct the proof of concept.

“Absolutely.”

He’d said it with his hand over hers on the leather-bound screenplay, like the decision had already been living in his chest and only needed a door.

She’d assured him that if he had notes; actors, actresses, even other writers; she’d work with him. He’d also get Executive Producer credit alongside hers. We’d haggle contracts and salaries later. Joe had always trusted me with that. And the ten percent he insisted I take on his projects was never why I stayed. The agency took care of me. He took care of me in a different way. The dangerous way.

“Thank you for bringing Zoe back, Irie.”

Whoosh.

The name again, I heard it the way he’d said it that night; rough, broken, poured into my mouth while he came inside me, every roll of his hips punching the air from my lungs. I pressed my thighs together hard enough to ache.

Calm down. You’re going to soak his seats.

He glanced over, head cocked.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I smiled. Nodded. Lied with my whole face.

“Perfect.”

He started whistling again.

“Why did you agree so quickly this time?” I asked.

That disarming smile. The one that had undone me in a kitchen three years ago and still hadn’t let go.

“You.”

The air in the car went thick.

He kept glancing at me, trying to hold my eyes and the road at the same time.

“You believed in me before I did. You always do.” His hand left the wheel, found mine, laced our fingers and squeezed. Warm. Certain. Too much. “I’m where I am… who I am because of you.”

I watched his mouth while he talked. I wanted it. I wanted it on my throat, my breasts, the inside of my thighs. I wanted it saying Irie the way he had when he was buried in me.

“You mean the world to me, Irie. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

My thighs clenched again as he put his hand back on the wheel. A fresh slick heat slid between them.

“We both are.”

Emily. His girlfriend. My best friend. The woman he cherished. The woman with a custom engagement ring already commissioned and tucked in a drawer in his office; two dolphins, tails locked, waiting for the right night.

Tonight was supposed to be our girls’ night. Just us. Was I going to tell her the truth. That I still wanted him. That I still loved him. That I was tired of pretending the door we closed had actually locked.

Would she understand?

Hate me?

Pull me closer?

Open their bed?

The speed bumps into the garage yanked me out of it. Joe’s voice was light, already half inside the screenplay in his head.

“Take the rest of the day off. I’ve got a script to read. You and Emmy have fun.”

Fun.

If she didn’t walk out of the room when I told her of the way I said his name, the way I still said it in the dark.