Cherry Blossom Girl

—Evanslily, thank you.—

*

"C'mon! Give me that—

oh

, damn."

Noah always loved a vocal woman but tonight Jillian's barrage of instructions distracted instead of aroused. He'd been fucking her long enough—and well—to do without a GPS readout.

"Yeah-yeah-yeah!" she chanted in one breath then sagged onto her elbows, groaning while she fisted the sheets. He spanked her reddened cheek to silence her incessant yammering; that it excited her was the added bonus. He watched his handprint bloom across her pale flesh, a sight that should have hurtled him right to the edge except he found himself imagining his hands on darker skin.

"Don't stop!"

Startled back into the present, he picked up the tempo and worked her harder to compensate for the moments he compared her to another woman. He grabbed a fistful of coppery-brown hair while his other hand teased her swollen nub in a way guaranteed to set her off.

"Right there, right there, right—

there

! Just like that," she wailed and shook her head. "God, baby yes. Just like that."

"Enough talking." The smack of his palm and Jillian's startled yip drowned out the rumble of thunder above. "Show me how nasty you are."

Jillian didn't disappoint. She pushed her hips back to meet each long, inward drive. The front of his thighs burned as they slapped the backs of hers, faster and harder. He planted his left foot on the bed to give himself more leverage while he filled every bit of her. Jillian hissed and bit her lips when he leaned down and nipped her ear.

"You love being fucked like a little whore, don't you?"

"Uhn."

"I didn't hear you," he whispered as he tugged on her hair then slowed his thrusts, keeping her suspended on the precipice between tension and release. He kept pushing her, teasing her; the friction relentless with every prolonged motion.

"Noah, please...ah, fff-uck!"

"Say it."

"Love it..." her voice cracked from enthusiastic use, "...love being your whore."

"That's what I thought," he told her as he resumed the maddening pace she craved. His fingers launched a twin attack on her nipple and clit that made her come harder for him.

"Don't stop! Don't. Fucking. Stop."

Jillian collapsed facedown onto the bed, tremors wracking her body inside and out as his hips pummeled her ass. Within seconds he had her twisted onto her side, intent on finishing her off in her favorite position. Her brown glare turned wild yet her body remained spent and compliant when he planted his hands on either side of her head. He rocked inside her in a rhythm steady enough to entice and slow enough to let her recover. But Jillian hadn't called him over for a sweet, gentle loving. She never did. That was his favorite thing about her.

She dared him with her eyes. "Do it."

The needling pain when she dug her nails into the back of his thigh unleashed the animal in him. He reared up onto his knees and straddled her bottom leg.

"Like this?" he demanded over the punishing stroke her body invited. He pushed her thigh closer to her chest and pinned her knee to the mattress. Her hand latched onto his wrist, a silent welcome for more. "Is this...how you like it?"

He had her alternating between clawing the sheets and palming her full breasts, her face contorted in sweet agony as he withdrew and plunged into her again. Her voice dropped to a breathy whisper; a "yes" that touched the hidden corners of his mind in a way her high pitched antics hadn't. Goosebumps raced along his arms and transformed into energy rushing over his skin, crackling, too good to bear. He closed his eyes and let the memories pull him into the undertow.

"Oh...damn." Her plaintive sighs spun inside his head until they matched the ones that haunted him for weeks, until the deepest part of his mind heard one voice.

"Noah..."

Noah.

"I'm...coming."

Feels good.

"You feel so good."

That was the trigger.

He climaxed in the next breath; pleasure fizzled the instant his eyes met Jillian's. Deep brown eyes, but no hint of amber. He flopped onto his back while the last of his release drained into the condom. The blissful state of nothingness that came after sex flitted away before he could enjoy it.

He squashed the images that sprang up—images that had gotten him off better than Jillian just had. He stared up at the ceiling and forced his rebellious mind to go still.

They lay side by side on their backs while the distant boom of thunder invaded their relaxed silence. Noah exhaled. Jillian inhaled. It struck him how out of sync they were. For some reason the observation soured his mood.

She turned her head and offered him a lazy smile. "I think you just killed me."

He ran a finger along her chin and said, "Welcome to hell." Her entire body shook with laughter.

"I don't know what I like more, your wacked-out sense of humor..." Her scarlet nails raked his chest. "Or..."

"Just who are you trying to kid here?"

This time when she laughed, Noah joined her. Tonight wasn't a total waste after all. The thought held true as she fit her body against his side. This was what he missed about having a woman in his life, this feeling of being surrounded by softness and warmth; the freedom of it. But he never fully relaxed into it with Jillian, which was just as well.

Somewhere between following her words and absently stroking her back, the sweet tang of strawberries and citrus assaulted his nose. The fragrance wasn't bad, just tediously candy-like for a woman past twenty. And it definitely couldn't compete with the delicate, warm scent that had lingered on his sheets after... He squeezed his forehead. This shit had become a twisted ritual. At the rate he was going he'd soon become a perfume Goldilocks. He needed to move.

Jillian slipped on an oversized football jersey and filled him in on the details of her settlement while he dressed. Her ex had gotten the townhouse along with the Benz and cash. In exchange, she now had full ownership of the day spa he'd helped her start and less guilt over the marriage she'd sought to end.

"I can't believe it's really over."

Another man would've wondered if he'd heard a tinge of sadness in her voice. But he wasn't the rebound man, competing with history and building hope on a false attachment. He was here for uncomplicated fun, nothing was expected of him and that suited him fine for now. Still, he stayed and listened because in some odd way, they'd become friends.

They ended up on her back porch, passing a glass of Riesling back and forth. The June air was a mix of clean, warm and damp—a typical Florida summer night. The remnants of the thunderstorm lit up the night sky on its way the next zip code. Jillian's body curled into a tight ball as she sat with her legs drawn to her chest. Her knees formed a mountain beneath the faded jersey stretched over them. A sealed pack of cigarettes balanced on the summit.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Her restless fingers fiddled with the box, an unconscious gesture until he cast a quizzical gaze towards her hands. Her expression turned sheepish and she set the cigarettes on the small table between them.

"I thought I'd feel different—more excited or at least relieved, and I don't. Weird, huh?"

Noah didn't know what to add to that so he waited for her to continue.

"It's kinda sad when you think about it. You spend nine years building a life with someone and then it all boils down to paperwork and legal fees. "

"Regrets?"

She made a dry "hmm" sound. "A ton. From beginning, middle to end. You know how people say: 'you just know it when you've found the one'? Take it from me, you know when you haven't."

"You knew this even before you got married?"

She pursed her lips.

"My whole family, everybody, got so wrapped in all the wedding hype—the planning, the caterers...it was total chaos. All I kept hearing was that pre-wedding jitters were normal, even my mom said it. But deep down, I knew something wasn't right. And the closer we got to the date, the worse I felt about calling the whole thing off. I remember I literally felt like I was on a runaway train and I couldn't stop it." She tilted her head towards him. "You know, you're the first person I've ever admitted this to?"

"Eric never suspected the whole time you were together?" From what he understood, when Jillian's ex had suggested couples counseling, she'd seen it as a chance to get someone else to break the divorce news.

"I never told him and he never asked. But I think you know when someone isn't one-hundred percent with you." She paused and rubbed her legs. "We've been battling it out for, what—almost two years? And now that I've finally got my freedom, I don't have a clue what comes next. This whole moving-forward-and-starting-a-new-chapter thing is scary."

"Hate to break it to you kid, but you've doing that already, one day at a time."

She rolled her hair into the black scrunchie she had on her wrist and studied him. "How did you get to be so wise?"

"Must be one of my hidden talents."

His pulse leaped at the chance at sexual gratification when her gaze flew to his crotch. "I have a few of my own, how 'bout we compare?" she asked as she took the goblet from him.

Noah shook his head in amazement. "A mind reader too." He grabbed the hem of her shirt when Jillian rose from her chair. "Uh-uh. Right here."

"My neighbors..."

He tugged on her shirt until she stood between his legs.

"Don't tell me you're too chicken."

She looked to the line of trees along the garden and back.

"You're on."

* * *

While Ty walked to the passenger door, Sascha debated asking the question that had ping-ponged in her mind last night and all day today. This should be a no-brainer. He was attractive. Their bratty, sibling banter made her laugh. Yet they weren't as close as they should be. Always a niggling 'but'.

The thick summer air clung to her skin as she exited the car.

Ty tipped her chin up. "Goodbye, sweetness." His goodbye sounded so formal, its finality amplified by the night calm. No 'goodnight'. No 'I'll call you'. No plans for another date; just a sinking feeling as his mouth descended on hers.

His kiss was slow and charming, like curling up in front of a fireplace under a favorite blanket. She recognized the slow build up of desire from her early days with Alex and the similarity should've encouraged her to forge ahead but for one problem: Noah Jameson. Clarification. How it felt to be near him. There'd been nothing safe and neat about him; she had no familiar MO to draw upon and it thrilled her in a way she didn't understand but didn't want to like. Unfortunately for Ty, the comparison gave her ambivalence something to hang its hat on.

Why Noah of all people? The randomness of that night had to be a fluke.

She grabbed the back of Ty's neck and put every bit of heat she could muster into kissing him back. If this was to be the last time they saw each other, then she'd give him something good to remember.

Ty made a low sound of pleasure. He pressed against her until she stood pinned between the hard lines of his body and the car's hard, cool metal. She swallowed an uneasiness that skittered along a tightrope between tension and arousal.

"Do you want to come up?" It was a spontaneous outburst, one she regretted when the muscle above his jaw twitched.

"Yeah, that's why I'm gonna head home."

Ty was such a wonderful surprise yet sometimes she didn't know if he was being suave or sincere. The mystery of it intrigued her even as it put her on guard. Still, according to current conventions, they should've had sex three or four dates ago. Despite his recent subtle and not so subtle hints, he remained a gentleman about waiting. That had to be a testament to how much he liked her, that he wasn't a player.

"Come up."

"Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure," she lied and wrapped her fingers around his wrists in the hopes she'd absorb the heat he radiated since she posed her question. Of one thing she was certain: a man like this wouldn't hang around for dates that ended in the parking lot.

She didn't know he'd been holding his breath until a whoosh of air fanned her cheek. His full mouth curled into a smile, transforming this half-Italian man into every woman's type. Why were they standing around in the parking lot again?

"Girl, I've wanted you for so long, you better be worth the wait."

She forced a laugh. "Sweetness, if that's your idea of charming a girl, then your game needs some serious work."

He cupped her face and his warm gaze held hers as though he wanted her to really see him. "You won't regret it, I promise," he whispered, seeming to know how desperately she needed to hear those words. Car lights passed over them, chasing away the fragile connection they made.

"Let's go," she said gently, relieved to find her words more aligned with her feelings this time.

She took his hand in hers and led him through the resident parking garage to the lobby. The prospect of being intimate with another man had been playing in her head for weeks. But not because of the man hugging her from behind as they waited on the elevator. No, old curiosities had resurfaced and new ones had been born since she'd gotten a taste of her neighbor.

Until tonight her dates had ended with chaste kisses in public places. But behind closed doors she wantonly mimicked Noah's touch with such dazzling results, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, the woman she once imagined herself to be wasn't a fantasy ideal. She'd been used to shooing away the question with mental lists of all the ways Alex had made her happy and the contentment that their sex life wasn't bad at all—regardless of what Cosmo said. Now thanks to her recent sexual odyssey, she learned the nuances of touch that led her to sweeter pleasure. She'd get to try out all her discoveries with Ty—and soon, judging by the way he pressed against the small of her back.

The elevator opened and they began their ascent.

Beep

.

Sex with Ty. Excitement fluttered in her stomach.

Beep

.

Would he be slow and sweet like his kisses?

Beep

.

You better be worth the wait.

New insecurities contaminated what little air circulated the cab. She was so lost in her maze of thoughts she jumped when Ty ran his fingers up her arm. He chuckled.

"You're all wound up, baby girl. Nervous?"

"A bit, yeah," she croaked, which sent a heat of embarrassment up her face. God, she could be such a ninny at times.

Ping.

He reached for her hand, his smile patient and warm like his voice when he promised, "You're in good hands, you'll see."

"I know. It's a good kind of nervous."

His fingers wrapped around hers. "You know, you're not the only one who's nervous." He didn't show it, but real or not, his vulnerability made her brave as she led him to her door.

They started kissing the instant the door slammed behind them. She reached for the light switch but he caught her hand and put it around his waist. Every instinct demanded she slow him down but she talked herself out of it. Sleeping with another man was the final act in ending Alex's reign, nerves were natural. She curled her fingers into the "v" of his shirt. This was nice. She liked him. Maybe this was what they needed to break down the invisible wall between them.

"You smell so good," he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

Of all the things to say.

For a second, Sascha wondered if she imagined it. She traced the line of his jaw then tilted his face up to hers to banish the memory of another man's beard tickling her fingertips. It didn't work. The play of shadows dissolved his features into phantom shapes, making the moment surreal. She kissed him before their chance slipped away.

Slow, heavy footfalls passed her door on their way to a life where she didn't exist. She arched her body into Ty's hands, silently imploring him to make her feel that she mattered. This had to be more than what happened next when two people had gone out on more than three dates.

She waited and waited for conviction to take root and rise up. She couldn't find it in the endless black around them, not while her ears strained to hear her neighbor's door open and shut. The hard thud dragged her back to the reality of Ty's mouth traveling down her neck to the skin her dress exposed. If she could desire a stranger, then surely she'd feel more with Ty. He was far more worthy.

She reached for the switch again, needing to see his face, needing reassurance. Lightning flashed quick, quick and gone. She saw pieces of furniture, Ty then darkness. He pinned both of her wrists above her head with one hand while the weight of his body anchored her against the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" The practiced silk in his voice was replaced with a roughness she never expected. His sudden dominance awoke a dark curiosity but memories pressed to the surface; fleeting impressions of feeling trapped and unable to breathe. The zipper on the side of her dress slowly came undone. Part of her wanted to shrink away, part of her wanted to push him back. Instead, she commanded herself to stay still and succumb to the feeling of being wanted.

What he was doing felt nice. Maybe in a few moments his hands would feel like they belonged on her skin. Maybe after tonight she'd emerge on the other side of the breakup tunnel.

This could feel right...if she just gave Ty a chance.

* * *

Noah stood with his hands planted on wet tiles while warm water pelted the knot between his shoulders. His post-sex mellowness had gone straight to shit the second he pulled into the garage and saw Sascha strolling hand in hand with another man. There she was all sunshine and smiles in her yellow summer dress—a total one-eighty from the last time he'd seen her.

He dried off and pulled a pair of cargo shorts and a white tee from the dresser. He dressed, not giving a damn about what was happening on the other side of his bedroom wall.

He flopped onto the couch, propped his feet on the coffee table and reached for the text book and highlighter. Frankie lay balled up on her favorite blanket at the opposite end of the couch. The dog's contented state was the opposite of his. And all because of one woman. He would've sworn she'd fallen off the planet if it weren't for the times her parking spot lay vacant and the night he'd woken up because of a loud crash coming from her apartment.

He would've forgotten that night and the following morning long ago—and he would forget, of that he was sure—because there wasn't anything special about her. Well, except for the fact that they were neighbors.

Those first days after he let stupidity rule, he'd opted out of taking the stairs in favor of the elevator just to prove that walking past 406 meant nothing, that seeing her again was no big deal. He'd gotten over it by week's end but the heightened alert in the seconds before he left his apartment or returned home persisted. They'd come face-to-face again; the where and when was the element of surprise he didn't care for. That part got to him more than he wanted to admit.

All of this could've been avoided if he'd listened to the voice of reason that night. But no, he let his dick do the thinking. But then there'd been little time for rational thought that night. One minute she was writhing over him, breathless and coming. "I want more," she murmured against his neck then fell asleep within the next breath. While she lay snuggled against him he'd fantasized about all the things they'd do come sunrise. That was until she whispered another man's name.

He'd spent restless hours on the couch, frustrated with sexual need—haunted by the fact that what his body craved lay in his bed—and hating himself for it. To add insult to injury, she treated him like a sexual predator and couldn't bring herself to ask him if they'd had sex. She stood before him all impassive and regal as though stating the question herself or entertaining possibility it happened had been beneath her.