Morteza Page 4

  Tomorrow.

  Chapter Seven

  Eli was driving himself crazy.

  It had been a year since he’d walked out the door of 1275 James Street and said goodbye to his best friend and the only woman—although it had taken him all of his life to figure it out—he’d ever loved. And to the man he had learned to love in a single incredible night.

  He had told himself at the beginning of this miserable year that he’d somehow lost his insatiable desire for women. He mostly blamed it on his time of life, though occasionally he attributed it to being way too busy at work.

  As the year progressed, he started to worry that his lie to himself was actually true, that something was physically wrong with him. It took about two months before he got up the courage to see his physician, worried that he was going to get a diagnosis of prostate cancer.

  Three weeks and a multitude of tests later, his physician gave him a clean bill of health and a referral to a therapist who specialized in helping men with problems with their sex lives.

  Three sessions later and Eli, if he could have figured out a way to do it without being thrown in jail for the rest of his life, was ready to kill the therapist. How do you feel about your mother? Your male friends? Your penis? How often do you have sex with strangers?

  Eli wanted to tell him that he never had sex with strangers. Foreplay turned even the newest of acquaintances into an intimate friend.

  Because if Eli was proud of any of his sexual accomplishments, it was that. He was the king of foreplay. He had a very long fuse, never rushed into intercourse, but drew out the game of getting there.

  That was what he loved, what he craved—driving himself and his partner crazy until each touch was somewhere between pleasure and pain. Pushing so far that when his cock finally touched her pussy, they could come together in a single stroke.

  But the therapist? He was so sure he knew what was wrong with Eli that he asked all the wrong questions.

  If he’d once asked Eli why he had stopped having orgasms, Eli wasn’t sure he’d have been able to resist telling him. Because Eli knew exactly why he no longer climaxed.

  It wasn’t like Eli didn’t have erections—he did. Dozens of them a day. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to have sex. He did. All day, every day. He just couldn’t seem to find a woman who interested him that way.

  Because he’d spent most of the past year chasing Morteza and Ellie out of his mind. He’d chase them out each morning first thing when he woke out. They’d be there, their hands reaching for him, their lips speaking his name.

  He’d chase them out at lunchtime while he sat alone in the coffee shop around the corner from his office. They’d be sitting on the opposite bench in Eli’s regular booth, their bare feet—didn’t matter whether it was snowing outside or so hot that the asphalt was melting the roads into pools of sticky black muck, their feet were always bare—tickling his knees and traveling up towards his cock.

  Eli figured he spent half his energy every single day chasing the two of them out of his mind. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was wrong to be thinking about them this way.

  Each of them had made it obvious they wanted only that single night, and Eli had been happy to go along with it, knowing it was a one-time thing. He wasn’t a threesome kind of guy—though he could see the fun of it with a couple of women. But his joy, and his skills, were all about complete attention to a single body. That’s what got him off.

  Or at least that’s what used to get him off. Right now, nothing did.

  And he cursed Ellie for talking him into it.

  Ellie had coerced him into taking Morteza’s assignment, telling him that it would be fun, that playing with a complete novice would be a real hoot. Yep, that’s exactly what it had been—a hoot that had ruined his life.

  * * * * *

  And Morteza? Even worse. Eli hadn’t ever imagined a man like Morteza, a man who drew from him the same tender care Eli had slathered on dozens of women over the years. He wanted—and why he’d want this with a man as big and as tough as Morteza was beyond him—to look after Morteza, to care for him, and not just sexually.

  Though he definitely wanted that.

  He had lavished Morteza—and Ellie, if it came to that—with all the loving attention to detail that Eli prided himself on. But this time it wasn’t about technique. It was all about caring.

  And that scared him to death.

  Eli cursed himself for being the one who wanted more. He was going to chase them out of his mind and his life if it killed him.

  And with the risks he found himself taking, on the ski slope, on the road, in the pool and on the ice, it might just do that.

  He’d been in the emergency room more times in the past twelve months than he had in his whole life. Broken bones. Detached retina. Dozens and dozens of stitches. The emergency room triage nurse didn’t even ask him his name any more.

  “Come on in, Eli. What is it this time?”

  He’d managed to get himself to the hospital each time, though a couple of times it had been damn close. But he couldn’t bear the thought of showing up on a stretcher in front of that tartar of a nurse.

  It’d be, Eli? Couldn’t get here under your own steam? and his image as a tough guy would be ruined.

  The triage nurse, his family physician, and that bastard of a therapist were the only people who knew what a mess Eli was, and he intended to keep it that way. He made sure to keep his most dangerous pursuits days away from his required attendance at family dinners and was careful to hide his stitches under long sleeves or ball caps.

  He wasn’t sure he was completely fooling his mother, but she let him get away with it. He loved her for it.

  And he loved her even more for never, not once, mentioning Ellie.

  His mom knew him well enough to know that something had changed between Eli and his best friend. She didn’t ask any questions, just pretended nothing had changed.

  Eli wished he could do the same.

  He’d tried, actually.

  At the very beginning, the very day after he’d left behind the loves of his life, he’d continued his dating cycle, asking out women who attracted him, who seemed like the kind of person to enjoy Eli’s attention.

  And they did.

  They loved it when he laid them down on the cashmere throw in front of the fireplace, when he carefully removed the clothes from their bodies, one piece at a time, without ever touching their skin.

  He watched as their skin blushed with the heat from the fire. He watched as they squirmed on the throw, the cashmere as sensuous on their backs as his hands were against their skin.

  Eli loved it when he touched the skin behind their ears, first lightly with a single finger, then leaning down to run his tongue in circles until he felt the heat rise under their skin, until their hearts beat faster and their breath came more quickly.

  He gave each inch of them the same treatment, a slow touch with a single finger, then a more lavish and luscious bath with his tongue. He moved at random, watching the ripples under their skin to choose his next target. He might move from the inside of a knee to the indent beneath a clavicle, to lifting her hair and laving her skin right below her hairline.

  It might take an hour or two, sometimes as long as three hours, to get to any of the obvious erogenous zones.

  He picked his way carefully around her nipples, touching and licking each inch of her breasts except those tightening areolas.

  He licked his way up to the crease between her thighs and her pussy, taking long, damp strokes on that soft skin. He could smell the scent of her arousal, and each time he returned to that zone, the scent grew stronger and her movements grew wilder. She would writhe and reach for his head, wanting desperately to get his mouth where she needed it.

  And Eli would pull back and roll her over so the cashmere tickled her nipples. Then she’d push hard into the floor beneath her, trying to intensify the sensations while he lapped at the triangle at the top o
f her ass, caressed and nibbled the twin globes, worked his way down to that delicate spot behind her knees.

  And she would beg him, tears leaking from her eyes, to touch her. To suckle her nipples, to spread her lips and suck her clit, to fuck her until she came.

  Eli would, eventually, give his oral attention to her nipples while his nimble, experienced fingers played with her clit, rubbing the damp pearl until she moaned with delight.

  He moved his body between her legs, slowly licking his way down, thrusting his tongue into her belly button, then using long, slow slides of his tongue until his mouth reached her clit.

  He opened his mouth as wide as it would go and set it upon her, his lips stretching around her clit and her pussy, but touching nothing. He breathed out, impossibly heating her even more, and then he used his tongue.

  Her first orgasm happened the moment his tongue came out of his mouth to lap at her clit; the second when he pushed his fingers slowly into her cunt; the third when he nibbled at the now so tender pearl while moving his fingers in and out; the fourth, if he thought she could bear it, when he turned her over, lifted her hips so he had full access to her ass.

  He placed one finger lightly on her clit, moving gently, letting her decide how hard she wanted to be touched. He transferred the juices from her cunt to her anal pucker and leaned down to suckle the tender base of her spine while he pushed his finger into her ass, stopping just as he broke the seal, waiting for her to move, to stretch her body to the limit. And mostly she did.

  The fifth orgasm he had always saved for himself, by this time so hot, so ready, that he knew it would only take a few strokes in her quivering pussy for him to explode.

  But for the past year, his cock had remained unused and untouched. He had given up women completely after a couple of months, realizing that whatever he could give them couldn’t be enough if he used them so clinically, if he played their bodies while ignoring the needs of his own.

  Women. Danger. Work. Alcohol.

  None of those things got Morteza and Ellie out of his mind.

  Eli figured his last option was to move right out of River City. He couldn’t tell his mother, but he started applying for jobs on the opposite coast and had listed his condo with a realtor.

  His only hope was to change everything about his life so he was never again reminded of them. That was the only way to get them out of his mind.

  Chapter Eight

  Ellie had made up her mind. She’d waited more than long enough, and this was the day she would see Big Dave. He could find Morteza. It probably wouldn’t happen today or tomorrow, but Ellie was nervous enough that those few days were probably a blessing.

  She’d be able to get her mind around actually seeing him again, rather than just dreaming—or fantasizing—about him.

  And she’d be able to get her mind around following that up with talking to Eli—somehow much more difficult than walking up to a man she’d known for a mere twelve hours and saying something like, “Hey there, love of my life. You wanna spend the rest of yours with me and Eli?

  “Even though you know nothing about us? Even though you can’t possibly know how I feel about you? And especially even though I can’t know what Eli’s going to say or do about all of this?

  “You wanna take that risk?”

  What were the chances he’d say, “Get the hell out of my face, you crazy bitch?”

  Ellie knew it was a possibility, but she also knew she had to take the chance, and starting with Morteza had to be easier than starting with Eli. She knew how bone-headed her oldest friend could be; she knew he didn’t like to be told anything, especially by her.

  If she had Morteza at her side when she walked up to her best friend, even if Eli chased her away, she’d have someone to hold onto while she cried. And cried. And cried. Because maybe she could live without lover Eli, but she wasn’t sure she could live without best friend Eli.

  Ellie just had this feeling. She could leave it another day or two, another week or a month—after all, it had been a year already. But there was something telling her she couldn’t wait, that she had to do it. Right. This. Minute.

  And Ellie had learned over the years to listen to that abrasive voice inside her head when it insisted that something was truly important. She would do it first thing.

  Well, not exactly first thing. Big Dave wasn’t what you might call a morning person. She wasn’t even sure he was a lunchtime person. If she showed up around three, he’d be at Big Dave’s and she could get him started on the search for Morteza.

  How hard could it be? How many men in River City had the first name of Morteza? How many men towered over taller-than-normal Eli? If his name didn’t ring a bell with Big Dave’s computers, she’d tell him to check out basketball leagues and cage fighting.

  Morteza had the look of a man who could more than handle himself. He had the look of a man who could handle everyone else as well. She knew he wasn’t a cop, but he had that aura around him—the aura of a man who could and would and did fight. A man who didn’t back down from anyone.

  She just hoped he wouldn’t back down from her challenge.

  Odd, though, that a man that ferocious could also be so tender.

  Ellie kicked herself and determined that tonight was one of those nights that absolutely required a glass or two of wine before bed. If she went to bed fretting about what might happen the next day, she’d be up all night. A couple of glasses of wine would make the fretting bearable.

  But what if Big Dave found Morteza on the first cast?

  Ellie wanted to look her best for Morteza, and that meant a good night’s sleep. She pulled a bottle of her favorite wine from the rack, a bottle of Beaujolais Villages she’d been saving for a special occasion. This was as special as an occasion could get.

  She was taking the first step to bring her men together, taking the biggest risk she’d ever taken. She was scared to death.

  But Ellie’s momma hadn’t raised a fraidy-cat, just a woman who knew when wine was the only answer to fear.

  A silk robe in brilliant red for color and texture, a cedar log fire for scent, Aaron Neville on the CD player for sex and sorrow, and her favorite wine in a crystal glass for relaxation. Ellie’s evening was as good as it could possibly be.

  She just had to keep her eye on the prize.

  * * * * *

  The next morning wasn’t quite as good as the night before. Ellie rolled over and crashed off the couch onto the hardwood floor next to it, an empty bottle of wine the obvious culprit.

  She carefully twisted her head to see the time. She still had lots of it before she had to head out to see Big Dave, and that was a good thing, because her head wasn’t going to let her move very quickly this morning.

  Shower, three cups of coffee, a pile of hash browns and an appointment with her massage therapist, another one with her hairdresser, and Ellie was on her way across town to Big Dave’s Internet Spot, feeling pretty darn good given the way she’d rolled out of bed this morning.

  She practiced her speech all across town.

  “Dave, haven’t seen you for a long time. I was just in the neighborhood…”

  That wasn’t going to work. Dave—especially after he’d been married to Jenn for all these years—knew her too well to believe that statement. First, this wasn’t a neighborhood Ellie would go into by choice.

  Not that there was anything wrong with it; it was a perfectly nice neighborhood. But it wasn’t her neighborhood, and Ellie was a creature of habit. She met Dave and Jenn in the neighborhood where they’d all grown up and they all still lived. Dave’s business was across town, so Dave would guess right away she had some favor to ask.

  Okay, try something different.

  “Dave, my laptop…”

  Where was it? She’d left it at home. If she’d been a little less fuzzy this morning, she would have thought of this ploy before she left the house, but now she was almost all the way across town and there was no way she was going home for her l
aptop.

  Hmmm. How about, “Dave. I’ve been thinking about changing jobs, and I know you know everything about computers.” A little flattery might get her a long way. But she imagined the look on Dave’s face as she spoke that line, and she laughed. That was definitely not going to work.

  That meant Ellie was left with the truth.

  She wrinkled up her nose. No one knew about the night she’d spent with Morteza, not even her best friend Jenn. No one knew about the night she’d spent with Eli, especially not her best friend Jenn.

  And Big Dave told Jenn everything.

  How in the hell was she going to get around that?

  Well, she was going to get around that by walking right up to Dave and telling him the truth, damn the torpedoes. Whatever in the hell that meant. She’d worry about Jenn and her mother, oh my God, and Ellie’s mother and Eli’s mother, tomorrow.

  Or the next day.

  Dave sat behind the big oak counter, his face, as usual, six inches from a computer screen. But Big Dave had eyes in his forehead because, without even looking up, he said, “Ellie. Haven’t seen you for a donkey’s age, and Jenn’s fretting. Where in the hell have you been?”

  And Ellie realized she could tell Dave anything. And she did.

  She told him about the night she’d spent with Eli and Morteza. She told him that they were the loves of her life. She told him that she’d wasted a whole year trying to decide what to do, and she wasn’t going to waste another minute.

  “Dave, can you find Morteza for me? I’ll tell you everything I know about him.”

  Dave lifted his head from the computer for the first time and roared with laughter. “Come with me, little girl,” he said between the laughter. “I’ll take you right to his house, where I guarantee you he’s sound asleep in bed.”

  “Huh? What the…”

  Ellie wasn’t even sure what to say. She’d walked out of the house this morning figuring it would take a couple of days for even Big Dave with all his skills to find Morteza. She had counted on having time to think about what to say and how to say it, what to wear, whether to phone him first or just show up.