A/N: Rated M for strong language and sensuality. Not beta'd.
A/N2: The idea for my story, "The Idiot's Guide," actually came from this piece, which was partially completed at the time. Your responses to chapters 8 & 9 of 'Idiot's Guide' encouraged me to keep working on "Caution to the Wind." I've written two chapters of a maximum four chapter story, so if you have any feedback for me as I continue writing, I would love to hear it. I'm trying to stretch my creative muscles!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 1
"No kidding," Aaron grimaced. "They keep closing in on the protected areas and there'll be a lot more attacks like that one. That bear was looking for food, and he found it."
Aaron Anderson sat across the large booth from his long-time friend, Eric Delko, commenting on one of Eric's recent cases. The case was now closed, and seeing as it had been plastered all over the evening news for the last few days, everyone at the table knew the grittier details about the girl who died trying to protect her little brother from a bear—a bear that was intentionally drawn to their campsite by a sick and spiteful step-father.
Next to Eric sat his…well, sat his Calleigh. Eric would swear up and down until he was blue in the face that he and Calleigh Duquesne were 'just friends.' Best friends. Aaron knew that the beautiful blonde was currently dating an MDPD homicide detective, who Delko called 'that God-awful, pretentious, slimy, douche-bag, son-of-a-bitch" the last time Aaron saw him. Not that his description of the detective made much sense; Eric was stone drunk, after all— one of the few times Aaron had seen him lose control like that.
Next to Aaron, four other men sat around the circular booth: Titus Burwell (or Big Bur, as they liked to call him), Andrew "AJ" Cavazos, Courtney "I dare you to call me a girl one more time"Jacobs, and Conner "The Con Man" Kitts (also known as Kittens, but only on very rare occasions, as the moniker sometimes incited extreme violence). Together with Aaron (Double A, or Dub for short) and Eric, who everyone just called Delko, these men constituted three-quarters of the two nationally ranked relay teams that the University of Miami Swim Team boasted three years running.
Two of their number were missing, a fact which the six friends seldom discussed—not because they wanted to forget, but because they acted like the pair were still with them. Howard Scott and Lucius Mackelroy were the dynamic duo, two best friends who loved to swim and lived to love—love life, love their friends, love the small things each day afforded.
They weren't the best swimmers on the team, but the entire university, and even the community, turned out to watch Scottie and Mack swim every weekend—they poured all of themselves into the sport and into the people who supported them. Three weeks before graduation, a drunk driver ran a red light at six o'clock on a Tuesday night and t-boned their pick-up truck, killing both young men instantly.
Scottie and Mack left an indelible impression on those they left behind and changed the lives of their teammates forever. Aaron and Bur partnered up after college and used their business and management degrees to start a non-profit organization designed to support the victims of drunk driving. They now led a national movement to introduce legislation in Congress that would harshly increase the penalties for repeat offenders.
AJ married his college sweetheart less than two months after he buried his best man. He and Mack had been friends since middle school; Mack introduced AJ to Sara, but he never made it to their wedding. Sara usually came with her husband to these reunions, but she was currently at home in bed, seven months pregnant. Finally. She and AJ tried for several years to have children with no luck. In the last six years, they had adopted three children who were born with fetal alcohol syndrome. Their whole group rejoiced at the news that Sara was expecting a child of her own. She deserved everything she wanted and more; Eric thought people like AJ and Sara should be granted sainthood for taking on the responsibility of special needs children.
Courtney returned to his hometown of Houston and implemented an educational program for underprivileged kids in the Fifth Ward. As a young black man, Courtney had experienced first-hand the need to teach kids how to swim; statistically, African American men are more likely than any other group in the United States to lack the ability to swim. His program taught kids not only about swimming, but about water safety, the importance of working as a team, and the simple joy of doing something you love. After ten years in Houston's roughest neighborhood, Courtney Jacobs could proudly say that he'd rescued hundreds of kids from the streets and pointed them toward lives of success.
Then there was Conner. He wasn't called The Con Man for nothing; his ability to woo and manipulate landed the eight swimmers in just as many sweet situations as prickly ones in college. During spring break their junior year, Conner somehow acquired the key to the penthouse suite of their hotel in the Dominican Republic; that week was the most memorable of all their young lives. The next year, he talked their way into a swanky shindig being held for the university president in order to see Gordon O'Reilly, the drummer for the guys' favorite band. Apparently, Mr. President did not find their intrusion as comical as they did, and it very nearly cost them eligibility on the swim team.
These days, Conner put his antics to better use as a correspondent for ESPN. His two brothers played in the MLB and his father was a pitching coach for a team out West. Eric always laughed when he heard his crazy friend's voice announcing a Dodgers or Diamondbacks game. Everywhere he traveled, the former communications major took time to speak to little league teams and Boy Scout troupes, using Scottie and Mack's story to encourage others to make positive choices. Last year, a young teenager called Conner from the ledge of a bridge; he'd given his card to the boy, not knowing their interaction had made such an impression on him that he would call nearly a year later as he considered ending his life. Conner managed to talk the boy down from the ledge, and now he made regular trips to Cincinnati to mentor the troubled teen.
As for Eric, the tragic death of his two close friends drastically transformed the way he looked at the world around him. For four years, he'd studied to become an engineer like his father. His future was mapped out in front of him. Graduate degree, associate at a design firm, start his own mechanical engineering business. Eric went into a tailspin after he lost Mack and Scottie, and he found himself hauling tin out in the Everglades, trying to figure out who the hell he was anymore. If it weren't for the guys sitting around this table and one stubborn, red-headed lieutenant, Eric might still be out there searching for scrap metal.
Becoming a police officer was the best decision Eric had ever made. He did it in honor of his fallen teammates, but he found himself and his vocation in the process. And he found Calleigh. Calleigh, who dealt with her own demons concerning alcohol.
Calleigh was a conundrum. Seven years ago when he'd just started at MDPD, Delko showed up at their reunion with this drop-dead gorgeous, spitfire of a Southern woman on his arm. Heaven only knew how Calleigh garnered the invitation to their gathering, but she'd been at every one since that fateful night. Besides Sara, Cal was the only other woman, or other person period, that joined their get-togethers. Two or three times a year for the last seven years, without fail.
Given the group's affinity for nicknames, they were the ones who dubbed Calleigh "Bullet Girl." It stuck, much to the woman's chagrin (and secret satisfaction). After her third reunion with the guys, she'd asked why everyone had a crazy name except for Eric. "Delko" wasn't all that creative, after all—the U.S. government came up with that brilliant jewel when Eric's family emigrated from Cuba. Apparently, Delektorsky was just too difficult for customs and immigration to pronounce.
Burwell had answered for all of them in the deep, booming voice which perfectly suited his muscular African American frame:
'Delko's just the easiest. Really, this guy's got more nicknames than all of us combined.'
Eric pinned Big Bur with a steely glare that threatened bodily harm if he mentioned any of them. Bur, however, was not easily intimidated. He raised a hand to count off Eric's various pseudonyms.
'Eric the Eel, E-Man, Speedy D—'
AJ piped up where Bur left off: 'Ace, Altar Boy, The Cuban Cowboy, Dynamite Delko …'
By now Calleigh was doubled over in unrestrained laughter, and Eric looked like he would physically beat the next person to mention his college-day epithets. Leave it to Conner…
'Don't forget Dr. Delko, guys,' he said with a wink, earning another death glare from Eric. 'El Tiburón, Pretty Boy, Mad Dog,' he listed, undeterred.
The group of men burst into laughter at some long-dormant inside joke. Calleigh had become a trusted secret-keeper of so many of those jokes and stories that she'd learned long ago that sometimes it was just better not to know. She shared a grin with Sara across the table; the brunette beauty rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, content to listen to these crazy boys ramble.
Calleigh couldn't resist just a small tease. 'Dr. Delko?' she asked her friend with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. She barely contained her mirth at Eric's obvious discomfort.
Courtney explained: 'Ah, yes. The infamous, Dr. Delko. Ladies man extraordinaire," he chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Calleigh picked up on a hint of sarcasm and sent the guys a questioning glance. Conner obliged her, once more. 'And when Court says ladies man extraordinaire, he means complete social recluse,' he grinned.
Eric rolled his eyes. 'That's just wrong, man.' Would they ever leave him alone? 'Dub, back me up here!'
Aaron wished he could, but Con Man was right: Eric Delko was the antithesis of the social butterfly during his years at U of M.
'Sorry man, no can do. Cal,' he turned to the petite woman sitting close to Delko, 'Eric focused on three things at university, and three things only: baseball, swimming, and studying.'
'Scottie used to beg Dirty D to come out with us,' Courtney interrupted. 'But he was stubborn as hell.'
'Which girls interpreted as dark and mysterious,' Conner complained acrimoniously, shooting Eric a dark look. 'Whenever he did go out, or swim, or play baseball, or step foot out his bloody-freaking-door,' he paused to take a breath, 'girls absolutely threw themselves at him. Totally unfair. He didn't even have to try.'
'And Dr. Delko?' Calleigh repeated through her suppressed amusement.
'We were in Atlanta for a tournament, close to Halloween. Our last night there, we went to this insane party at an abandoned warehouse in the middle of downtown.' AJ grinned widely as he recalled that night. 'It turned out to be a costume party, and this one fine-looking girl was all over Delko, here.' He sent an apologetic glance to his wife, but Sara didn't mind in the least, knowing that AJ would always belong to her and her alone.
'Calleigh,' Eric grumbled in defense, 'I couldn't escape. Don't listen to anything these idiots tell you.' Cal could no longer hold back a giggle when she heard him faintly grouch under his breath, 'Damn slutty nurse.'
AJ resumed his story. 'Fine, we'll at least call her Nurse Ratched,' he said and rolled his eyes. 'Either way, she refused to extricate herself from D's lap until 'Dr. Delko' kissed her boo-boos all better.' Shit-eating was hardly an accurate description for the grins Calleigh saw scattered around the table.
'And by boo-boos, he means—' Conner never finished his last words, as 'Dr. Delko' reached around Calleigh and punched him hard in the chest.
'Enough! Shut it, man,' he nearly growled, and although the long-time companions knew that Delko wasn't truly angry, there was a measure of seriousness in his voice that told them he wasn't joking around. That was a new development, and each man quietly mused that one stunning ballistics expert probably had a lot to do with the changes in their friend. Sara, perceptive as ever, knew that one stunning ballistics expert had everything to do with it.
By now Eric was blushing furiously. Sure, his buddies had always given him a hard time about the women who seemed inherently drawn to him, as well as his aversion to their advances. But Calleigh wasn't always there to hear the stories of his romantic misadventures, and he wished to keep it that way. The last thing he wanted was for his co-worker and friend to think he took advantage of women—because Calleigh had only ever known him as 'Eric the man who always has a date,' not the shy, focused young man he'd been in college. Cal could easily draw some misguided conclusions about Eric's opinion of women.
He had nothing to worry about. Calleigh peered up at him with a gleam in her green eyes, a playful look on her porcelain features. She patted him teasingly on the leg, but her words were all business as she spoke just to him: 'Good thing I know you better than that, huh, Dr. Delko?'
Her savoir faire saved the day and eased the sudden tension around the table, along with the building anxiety in Eric's chest. Even though they'd worked together less than two years, Calleigh did know him better than that, and he never should have doubted her confidence in his character. The man grinned his flawless grin and sent Cal a silent 'thanks' before he turned back to his boisterous buddies and the new conversation circling the table.
Calleigh remembered that night like it was yesterday, but in reality, nearly six years had passed. She'd wormed her way into the group like she belonged there all along, and AJ, Aaron, Bur, Court, and Conner became just as much of an extended family to her as they were to Eric.
More than any other people in Calleigh's life, these guys witnessed how she changed and grew over the years. From time to time, Aaron would comment that Cal didn't smile as much as she used to and that she worked too hard. Bur would wrap her in a huge bear hug without provocation, exactly when she needed it the most. She found out later that Eric confided in him when her father dropped off the deep end.
AJ and Sara lived in New Orleans, which Calleigh loved. Any time she went home to Louisiana to see her brothers, she stopped by the Big Easy to spend time with the Cavazos and their precious children. Eric constantly teased Cal about how she was stealing his best friends; as time passed, AJ and Sara grew as close to Calleigh as they'd ever been with Delko. Secretly, Eric was beyond pleased at the friendship Cal had formed with the couple. Not only did it cement her a little firmly in his own life, but it provided Calleigh with a much needed emotional outlet—Sara and Calleigh shared frequent phone calls, especially when life got a little tough to handle.
Thus, Sara became one of Calleigh's most poignant observers on these occasions, casually remarking that she seemed more restless or happy than usual, or that the glow of her smile didn't exactly match the glow of her new tan. Eric wondered what she would say if she saw Calleigh on this night.
Every time Sara made one of her little comments to Calleigh, the woman also snuck Eric a surreptitious glance that was always returned by him in one of three ways: with the distant and annoyed 'don't go there, Sara' glare, the silent and bashful 'I can't go there, Sara' gaze, or the confident and caring 'I'm totally on top of it, Sara' look.
As for the other two men in the group, Conner took great pleasure in teasing Calleigh, and Courtney always acted the foil, swooping in with his unassuming ways to rescue her from Con Man's scrutiny. The trio enjoyed a constant, good-natured banter that highly entertained the rest of the group and inevitably left Eric feeling light-hearted.
Both Calleigh and Eric cherished the times when all the guys descended on Miami. No matter what was happening in their personal lives, the bi- or tri-annual rendezvous' were a tradition that brought the two CSIs together. Eric relished the ability to share this part of his life with someone he worked with day in and day out. Calleigh felt honored to be that person; she also loved the little escape these meetings provided her, and she loved that she got to make that escape with her best friend.
Tonight was just like every other night, except it wasn't. Calleigh worked the case of the little girl and the bear, too. Two days ago when she and Eric arrived at the scene, she quietly observed as her unshakable partner's olive skin blanched to a sickening, pale green. At first, Cal was worried that the heat was aggravating Eric's headache—the one prompted by the double shift he pulled the day before. A year after his shooting, and Delko still experienced side-effects from his recovery and the bullet lodged in his brain.
Soon, however, Calleigh realized that Eric was fine. The sight of the little girl had simply pushed him over the edge. She watched as he retreated to the Hummer without a word, climbed in and slammed the door behind him. Three minutes later, after emptying his stomach into a spare evidence bag and taking several deep breaths, Eric returned to Calleigh's side.
He ignored the concerned look in her piercing green eyes, but he gratefully accepted the soft hand which came up to caress the small of his back and leaned into her touch. Neither spoke to the other as they surveyed the scene, quickly agreeing with the first responding officer that this was no accident. Someone had intentionally abandoned the small children in harm's way.
Behind them and slightly to the right, a cough penetrated the thick Miami air that caused the two CSIs to turn and survey the newcomer: Detective Jake Berkeley, Delko's dramatic mental arch-nemesis and Calleigh's boyfriend of four months. Eric suppressed a satisfied smirk at Berkeley's poorly-concealed animosity when Calleigh greeted her boyfriend with a warm smile but did not remove her hand from her best friend's back. In Calleigh's mind, it was just natural to want to comfort Eric, although if she was painfully honest with herself she would admit that the desire to comfort him was oftentimes a mask for… well, just plain desire.
So tonight, as Calleigh rushed into the bar fifteen minutes late and plopped unceremoniously onto the bench next to her best friend, she didn't back away at the realization that she'd plopped extremely close to Eric. In fact, she nearly sat on top of him, and they'd shared a hearty laugh at her clumsy arrival. Eric's left arm had been along the back of the booth, and now it rested casually behind Calleigh. With his free hand, he teasingly pushed Calleigh off of him, but only a little. Instead of resisting their closeness as she got settled—like Eric expected and like she should have—Calleigh simply tossed him a care-free smile and apologized for being late.
The blonde proceeded to engage Big Bur in conversation on Eric's other side, ignoring the fact that two familiar chocolate eyes were studying her intensely. More than anyone else in this close-knit group (besides Eric, of course), Titus Burwell had become a dear friend to Calleigh. Throughout their time at U of M, Eric and Bur shared a special bond, much like Scottie and Mack. Unlike their rowdy compadres, however, people gravitated toward Delko and Burwell not because of their outrageous personalities, but because of the quiet strength and calm they exuded wherever they went.
For four years of college and two years afterward, the toned Cuban and the towering African American lived, worked, played, studied, and swam together. The 'odd couple,' as the team jokingly referred to the pair, formed the heart and soul of that swim club. Year after year, they shared top honors for leadership from the university, and for skill across the state and southern conference. From the outside, Eric and Bur were the last two men people expected to command the group, but that was the essence of their influence, both as upstanding young men and tenacious athletes.
Just as Calleigh had connected with Eric seven years ago, she and Titus were instant friends. In fact, Calleigh was the only person on the face of the planet, other than his mama, that Big Bur allowed to call him by his first name. His Christian name, as mama liked to call it.
"Hey, Bur," Calleigh said softly and happily as she situated herself in the booth. The blonde leaned across Eric to kiss the man on the cheek. He'd lost some of the leanness he maintained in college as a swimmer, but the extra muscle weight suited him well. Calleigh always thought of Titus as a friendly giant, prone to bone-crushing hugs and reassuring touches, but just as quick to utilize his brawn to intimidate when necessary.
Big Titus Burwell's physique was the farthest thing from Eric's mind at the moment, as his entire body hummed from contact with a much smaller, curvier frame. Calleigh could pretend like she was oblivious, but Eric heard the barely-there hitch in her breath and knew she was just as aware of their proximity as he was. To his unending surprise, the woman only settled more closely to him when she returned from greeting Bur.
They sat like that, thighs touching length for length and Eric's arm behind Calleigh's shoulders, for three hours as the group of friends caught up with each other and laughed the night away. Occasionally, Eric would bring his hand down and touch Calleigh's shoulder to get her attention, or when he laughed at a joke, or just because he wanted to and she was letting him. Neither knew where this sudden, silently desperate openness had come from, but neither was willing to push it away (like they both knew they should, and fast).
The uncharacteristic closeness did not go unnoticed by AJ, Dub, Conner, Courtney, and Bur. They shared curious glances between them, but wisely said nothing to Eric or Calleigh. The relationship between the two CSIs had long baffled all of them, and they settled into complacent, sometimes concerned, observation. Their concern stemmed from the fact that Eric and Calleigh obviously loved each other deeply, but played an unending game of cat-and-mouse that invariably left one of them licking their proverbial wounds.
Tonight, Bur watched as the pair unconsciously drew closer, seemingly unaware of the electricity that radiated from their general area of the table. At one point, Calleigh rested her hand on Delko's knee, only to leave it there for at least ten minutes until she reached to take a sip of her water. Every now and then, the touches from Eric's fingers on the petite blonde's shoulder lingered, and he drew small circles for a minute before returning his hand to the back of the booth. And just now, Eric had leant in close to ask Calleigh a question over the ever-increasing music, but this time when he tilted his head toward Calleigh's ear, he dropped his whole arm to her shoulder and kept it there.
Calleigh didn't miss a beat in her conversation with Courtney across the table. If anything, she looked like she just wanted to snuggle further into Eric's side. The only indications that anything was amiss were the almost imperceptible looks of strain on the friends' faces. They might have looked every bit the happy couple, but an underlying tension still showed in their tentative touches.
Titus frowned. The rest of the guys may not say anything about the pair's strange behavior, but they weren't Big Titus Burwell.
Mustering something that resembled a smile, Big Bur turned to his old friend and jabbed him with a sturdy elbow. "D—come with me to the bar; I need help carrying back the last round."
Seeing as Bur never needed help carrying all of their drinks (thanks to a genius invention called a tray), Delko realized that the man obviously wanted to talk to him alone. About what, God only knew. Given the fake smile plastered to his face and the tightness around his eyes, Eric could tell it wasn't good.
Calleigh, consumed in conversation with the men on the other side of the round booth, missed the exchange between Eric and Titus but complied as they indicated their need to get up from the bench. Reluctantly, she relinquished the contact with her best friend which had not ceased since she arrived, almost four hours ago. Warning bells sounded in her head at the sudden sense of loss she felt as Eric walked away, not just because she missed his touch, but also because she knew she should definitely not feel that way.
Warily, the woman watched as her two friends approached the bar. She quickly became aware that the last thing on Titus' mind was buying the group's last round of beers. As soon as they came to a stop in front of the bar, the tall black man rounded on the shorter Cuban man. Although she couldn't hear what Bur was saying to Eric, Calleigh could tell by his wild gestures that he was angry. She forced herself to turn back to AJ, Court, Dub, and Conner, only to find them just as enthralled with the argument by the bar.
Slowly, each of them looked away and back at Calleigh. They were as close as six guys could be, but whatever was going down across that pub was none of their damned business, and they knew it. Only Big Bur could talk to Delko like that, and he reserved his tirades for extreme circumstances. Peering hesitantly at Calleigh one by one, they all knew exactly what, or who, was the subject of Bur's angry rant. Calleigh stared back at them stubbornly, refusing to give way under the combined weight of their gazes.
Unless something had drastically changed in the last few weeks—and the men knew that nothing had, because Delko would have been shouting from the rooftops—Calleigh Duquesne was a taken woman. And as much as all of them wished to see Eric and Calleigh get their heads out of their asses, they knew it shouldn't happen like this. They were better than that.
Silence descended on the table as no one could think of something to say that could possibly lift the ominous mood that suddenly engulfed them. Across the bar, Titus wasted no time before he laid into his best friend.
"What the hell are you doing, Delko?" he growled as soon as they stopped at the counter.
Defiance hardened Eric's features. "Back off, Bur." The menacing tone of his voice told Titus that Eric knew exactly what his friend was talking about, and that he was treading dangerous waters. So be it. If Eric was going to act like an idiot, Bur would treat him like one.
"No. You're the one that needs to back off, D."
"I am not having this conversation," Eric snarled, spinning on his heel to head to the table. Bur grabbed the man's arm and jerked him roughly back toward the bar, warranting a vicious glare from Delko that actually made him rethink his decision for a fraction of a second.
"Yes, you are," Burwell said, daring Eric to argue with him this time. "You are playing with fire, man. And you will get burned. Stop and use your head for a minute!" he implored his friend.
Eric yanked his arm from the man's firm grasp and clenched his jaw. "This is none of your business, Bur. Back. Off."
"The hell it's not my business! What kind of man would you be if you slept with Calleigh? What kind of friend would I be if I let you bethat man, Delko?"
Something had snapped in him; Eric was sick of everyone and everything screaming 'NO!' at him all the time. Sometime in the past few hours he'd learnt to tune it all out, and he felt free for the first time in years. No one would take that away from him. Not tonight.
"You don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about," Eric seethed, stepping into Bur's personal space and practically spitting the words in his face.
"No? Because I am pretty damn sure that you and Calleigh have crossed a major line here. You need to fix this. Now."
"Fix it? Fix it!" Eric threw his hands in the air and paced in front of his friend, one step then two. "This isn't something you can just fix, Titus!" If Eric weren't in the middle of a crowded bar and furious at the gall of the man standing before him, he felt he might just burst into tears.
"You can choose to stop, Eric," Bur tried desperately to break through to his friend. He grabbed Eric by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. "Man, we all know how you feel about her. But you cannot do this. You need to do this the right way, D."
The right way? The right way ceased to become an option sometime around Tim Speedle's death, Eric thought grimly, when suddenly 'Eric and Calleigh' became 'Complicated mess of a shit-hole." The right way to do things never involved reckless sex with strange women, or Marisol dying. It didn't include him taking a bullet to the brain, and Calleigh running into the arms of Jake-fucking-Berkeley. The right way? There was no right way.
"Go to hell," Eric said softly, eyes boring into Bur's with hatred.
That quiet condemnation finally shook Titus' resolve. He had never seen Eric Delko like this, and it scared the shit out of him. He studied his friend's face in fear, and what he found there only served to further terrify and disappoint him.
The huge, dark hands clutching Eric's arms dropped limply to their owner's side. "What happened to you, Eric?" he asked, pain evident in his voice. Titus Burwell had just lost his best friend.
"Life, Bur. Life happened," the broken man replied roughly. "And I don't need you to tell me how to live mine." With one last glare, Delko walked away, leaving Big Bur in his wake shaken and confused.
Calleigh and the guys had watched the entire confrontation with bated breath. They didn't try to hide their curiosity as Eric stalked back to the table. The expression on his face genuinely frightened Calleigh, and she shivered as his steely eyes made contact with hers. She couldn't look away if she wanted to.
"We're leaving," Eric growled, grabbing Calleigh's jacket and purse from the coat rack behind the booth and offering her a hand. The firearms expert and kick-ass police officer knew better than to argue right now. She simply grabbed Eric's hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, until she teetered dangerously close to him.
As Calleigh wobbled, Eric shot out an arm to steady her, and the world exploded. He felt her hot breath glance across his cheek and her delicate body pressed intimately against his side. The man was already on edge, and this woman just sent him over. Calleigh's lips parted in awe as she watched Eric's eyes turn jet black, and she subconsciously drew nearer to him. For a split second, everything around them disappeared, only to return in sharp focus with the screeching sound of the microphone on the stage nearby.
Neither of them said goodbye to the four stricken men sitting in the booth behind them, or to the burly black man eyeing them sadly from the bar. Calleigh knew she should feel guilty. Guilty for causing the rift between Titus and Eric, guilty for abandoning all sense of right and wrong, guilty for loving and wanting this man in a way no best friend should.
She should feel guilty. But she didn't. Instead, she gripped Eric's hand that much tighter, intertwined their fingers, and followed him blindly out the door and into the parking lot. Neither Eric nor Calleigh spoke, but right as they reached Eric's car, Cal tugged his body back toward hers instead of releasing him to walk around to the driver's side.
Slowly bringing Eric to a stop in front of her, she caressed her free hand up from his waist and over his chest, fingers snaking until they found a home behind his neck. With their intertwined fingers, Calleigh pulled him as close as possible before she tilted her face upward and caught his full lips with hers.
This was no gentle kiss. Her teeth grazed along Eric's bottom lip, a little nip eliciting a visceral groan from the back of his throat. Lips slid sensually across lips, and when Eric ran his tongue along the place where their flesh connected, Calleigh actually whimpered, and granted him immediate access to the steamy depths of her mouth. Her hand grappled hopelessly at the back of his neck, trying desperately to draw him closer. Eric's free hand, meanwhile, had crept under the back of Calleigh's silk blouse, and he was busy running enterprising fingers over the sensitized skin of her back and waist.
When his fingers barely (and none-so-shyly) slipped inside the top hem of Calleigh's slacks along her lower back, the woman compulsorily bucked her hips against Eric's. Her lips tore violently from his as she attempted to breathe, which was extremely hard at the moment, for Eric's hand had slid from beneath her clothes to grasp the curve of her rear, crashing her lower body hard into his.
They both groaned at the contact. Eric, because he could feel Calleigh's heat through every layer of clothing which separated them. Calleigh, because she felt something distinctly…Eric…pressing against her abdomen. She had done that to him. That heady knowledge pulled a cord tight in her stomach, and Calleigh fought to stay lucid as Eric pulled her against him.
"Car, now," she managed to utter, although her words came out in a voice she didn't recognize as her own, raspy with love and lust. She frantically shoved him away. Eric's confusion at the rude interruption of his pleasure quickly abated when he saw the consuming look on Calleigh's face. "Get in the car, Eric," she commanded. He obeyed.
It was all they could do to keep their hands off of each other in the car on the way to Eric's condo. At one point, when they were stopped at a red light, Calleigh unbuckled her seatbelt and stretched over to the driver's side and to Eric. She fused their lips together and kissed him so deeply that only the sound of a car honking behind them reminded Eric of where they were and what they were doing. His voice somehow found purchase as his foot hit the gas pedal, ringing out edgy and low in the silence of the car. "Just wait, baby."
Calleigh sat in the passenger seat, completely overwhelmed by her own audaciousness and the impact Eric's words had on her. His gravelly tone, the way he almost moaned the word 'baby,' now had Calleigh squirming. She'd never wanted a man this much in her life, and she would have him if it was the last thing she did on this green earth.
She didn't have to wait long, though. With inhuman strength, Eric managed to steer them to his condo without pulling the car over and ravishing Calleigh by the side of the road. While their heated collision was already less than romantic and far from ideal, he knew that Cal deserved better than a solid fucking in the backseat of his car. Although, by the look in her eye during the ride home, Eric wasn't entirely sure that Calleigh would have objected.
With at least some decorum, they managed to get out of the car and up to his condo before they launched at each other again. Eric had barely shut the door behind them when Calleigh's soft curves melded into his hard planes. He longed for the moment when he couldn't tell where he ended and she began, and he seriously doubted his ability to draw this out for very long.
The usually demure Southern belle had transformed into a sex-driven firecracker, though, and Eric soon discovered the complete futility of foreplay right now. Calleigh's lips crashed onto his, and tongues resumed their duel. In the back of his mind, the man registered two hands yanking the tail of his shirt from the waist of his dress pants. In the next second, Eric was free of the offending article, and his undershirt, and Calleigh had set to work on his belt buckle.
"Damn it, Eric! Help me," she uttered in frustration when the belt caught. His large, gentle palms covered her frenzied fingers, and in that moment both of them slowed their pace. Cal locked her sea-green orbs with his fathomless brown ones, and she noted with irony that the term 'windows into the soul' could never begin to describe the world he'd just revealed to her with his eyes.
Calleigh saw lust and desire and need and passion. She saw awe and edge and desperation. But she also saw unending love, compassion, unfailing devotion, and complete surrender. The intensity of his gaze left the woman trembling, and Eric had to catch her as her knees buckled slightly underneath her.
Unbeknownst to Calleigh, Eric saw that same world reflected in her mesmerizing eyes. Slowly, he lowered his head to hers and captured her lips in the most shattering kiss Calleigh had ever experienced—powerful in its simplicity, filled with the love they could not confess, and sweetly tainted with the knowledge that they only had tonight.
That thought forced an unbidden sob into Calleigh's throat, and although she was able to suppress it, the blonde beauty had to tear her lips from Eric's to do so. Undaunted, Eric let Calleigh catch her breath for a brief moment before he latched onto her lips once more, forcefully thrusting his tongue into her mouth as if to claim her as his. His unbelievably tender palms still covered Calleigh's atop his belt, and he guided her fingers to undo the buckle and lower the zipper of his pants. As she liberated Eric from the irritating slacks, his fingers wandered to her blouse. He momentarily stole Calleigh's hands so he could rid her of the silken shirt.
A second later, she stood before him completely exposed. If Eric had known that this woman had sat by his side for hours wearing nothing but that forest green, silk blouse, he never would have survived the night. He stood stock-still, drinking in the sight of a half-naked Calleigh, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, and red lips swollen.
Of its own accord, his left hand darted out to claim her hip and draw her in, right hand snaking to her waist. Calleigh's eyes fell closed at the sensation of Eric's hand caressing her waist, her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast. It was almost more than she could stand, the excruciating transition to this slow, luxurious pace.
With a devastating kiss (and the realization that at some point they'd kicked off the remainder of their restrictive clothing) Eric started moving them toward his bedroom. He proved to be his own worst enemy when his fingers hit a sensitive spot and Calleigh let out a soft growl.
She was normally a quiet lover, but something told her that making love to Eric Delko would forever alter the way she viewed sex, even if she only had this one night with him. The pain in her chest contracted her beating heart, not for the first time that evening. Both of them knew they couldn't cross this line. What line? Oh yeah, the one they shot to hell five hours ago. By morning, Eric and Calleigh would have to face the reality of their lives: friendship, work, Berkeley—everything.
But for now… for now Calleigh would revel in the freedom to cry out at Eric's gentle attack on her body. For now, Eric would drown in the sight and sound and smell of his best friend, completely aroused in his strong arms. Consequences be damned.
They never made it to the bedroom, instead falling against the far wall of the living room before backtracking to the couch. Blindly, Eric reached down and pulled the cushions from the sofa, tossing them to the floor along with all the throw pillows. His mouth never left Calleigh's as he found her favorite blanket and threw it haphazardly over their make-shift bed on the floor. With one knee, he shoved the coffee table roughly across the room to make space for them.
Their frantic pace had resumed, but this time it was less desperate and more deliberate. Nothing could prevent the impending collision of their bodies, but both Calleigh and Eric now felt safe in the knowledge that they would spend the entire night worshiping each other. Right now, the only thing on their minds was finally knowing what it felt like to move as one, to go over the edge as one.
As gingerly as possible, Eric lowered Calleigh to the cushions on the floor. He hovered over the woman in his arms, and when he looked down at her, his entire world shook. She was perfect, in every way, from the slight asymmetry of her breasts, to the freckle that adorned the hollow of her left hip. He didn't know how he could ever live without seeing her like this after tonight.
Quickly dispelling that depressing thought, Eric lowered his head, first capturing Calleigh's raw lips in a searing kiss, then trailing steamy, opened-mouth kisses down her body. He paused every time her breath hitched, every time goosebumps rose on her porcelain skin. He memorized every last detail of her curves, the way she responded to him, how she sounded when his hands caressed her just so. Calleigh traded off Eric's explorations with her own, and when they couldn't stand it any longer, they finally came crashing together.
Calleigh gasped and Eric's eyes darted to hers in concern. "Are you okay?" he asked so gently that tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back quickly, replacing them with a mischievous grin.
"More than okay," she teased.
Eric had to be sure. "I don't want to hurt you, Calleigh."
"You won't, I promise," she replied softly. "I want you, Eric."
Her confession swelled Eric's heart, at least until a sickening awareness struck him like lightning, forcing a groan and a frustrated, 'shit' from his lips.
A wave of fear coursed through Calleigh at his outburst. Eric saw the hurt in her eyes and immediately regretted his little slip of the tongue. "Baby, no. That's not what I meant," he whispered sincerely, brushing feather-light kisses across her cheek and the corner of her mouth. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase his next sentence. "Cal—I'm sorry. I completely forgot about protection."
Calleigh's head dropped to the cushion beneath her and she exhaled deeply. How could he be thinking about that right now? Or thinking at all, for that matter?
Through her haze, Calleigh made sure to keep her eyes locked on Eric's, so he knew exactly how much she wanted this, how much she wanted him. "Eric, it doesn't matter. It's safe."
That was all he needed to hear; he crashed his mouth to hers, and the rest of the night was lost to their cries.