Chapter Three: Learning to Touch
A/n: I'm so sorry I didn't post yesterday. I had an eye appointment and they had to dilate my eyes. That crap is miserable! There's nothing worse for a writer/reader/editor than being unable to see the words on the screen. But I'm all better now, so here is an update for you wonderful people :D
Daryl wrestled the antique writing desk into the back of the truck, and then collapsed onto the tailgate, reaching for the bottle of water Merle held out to him. That particular piece of furniture was just as heavy as the day he and Carol had found it outside those storage lockers. On a full scholarship – not wanting to accept any financial help from her parents – Carol was always looking for a bargain. Abandoned storage lockers, their items put up for sale by the owners, were loaded with treasures at extremely low prices. She was always dragging him off from one unit to another. God knows, Peachtree City was loaded with them.
Merle leaned against the side of the truck bed, inhaling deeply as he lit a cigarette and passed it to his brother before lighting his own. They were due for a break. Who knew Carol even owned so much stuff? "So …"
Oh shit! Daryl shot him a side-eyed glance. "What? Tired, ol' man?"
But Merle didn't take the bait. Normally, any aspersions cast upon his age could spark his temper, but he had other things on his mind. "You've been avoidin' me since y' pretty much forced our girl t' agree t' move in with us."
Daryl groaned. "That's because I knew y' were gonna be your usual asshole self an' try t' make this all about m' 'feelings'," he scoffed, making air quotes. "It is what it is, Merle. I ain't gonna let that bastard hurt her. I cain't."
"Damnit, brother, man up! Tell her how y' feel."
He sneered darkly at his older brother. "Fuck off, Merle. I ain't you, ok?! Women don't fall at m' feet when I walk into th' bar. I ain't made that way."
Merle cursed under his breath, cursed his father and prayed the bastard was roasting in a fiery pit. They'd both suffered at the man's hands, but it had been worse for Daryl. "I ain't nothin' special. S'all charm and confidence. I never wanted anythin' permanent with a woman; don't trust myself not t' be a fuckup like our ol' man," he said, ignoring the stunned expression on his brother's face. He could be just as emotionally handicapped as Daryl most of the time, but his brother deserved a bit of honesty just then. "Yer special, lil' brother. Y' got a good heart. Y' think she don't see that? S'why she loves you, an' don't try t' deny it. You'd have t' be blind not t' see how much that girl cares about y'."
"Merle …"
His brother held up a hand to forestall his arguments. "All I'm sayin' is … this retreat, pretendin' t' be her boyfriend … it's gonna mess with y'. It's gonna mess with both o' y'. You're a little fidgety fuck, brother. Jus' … if she does open up t' y', don't let yer emotional baggage get in the way of a chance at happiness."
Daryl gaped at Merle, his brows having disappeared somewhere beneath his fringe of bangs. "Th' fuck? A'right, who are y' an' what've y' done with m' brother!? I swear t' gawd, man, y' need t' lay off th' Dr. Phil."
Merle shoved Daryl as he hopped off the tailgate to go back inside. "Shut th' fuck up! It sounded a'right when he said it!"
*.*.*
Daryl cursed, tossing the wrench down to the cement floor next to the Camaro in a fit of pique, leaning forward against the frame, hands braced as he lowered his head. He was truly and royally fucked! He sighed heavily, closing his eyes, his thoughts straying to the girl upstairs. His thoughts were never far from her. He'd thought it a simple matter – having her move in with them – but it was becoming an exercise in torture which would give the Spanish Inquisition a run for its money.
He'd been thrilled to have her under their roof, sharing his space with her. Carol spent a good bit of her time studying, and he'd expected things to remain the same between them. He was used to her coming by the garage after her shift at the coffee house and having a late dinner with him and his brother. It was comfortable, familiar. The only thing he'd expected to change was her lack of commute from the campus to the garage. He snorted. The second her room was unpacked, Hurricane Carol swept through the apartment with a vengeance! She'd cleaned. She'd organized. She'd yelled at Merle for leaving his oil-stained boots on the freshly shampooed living room rug. A shiver raced along his spine as he remembered the happy melody humming through the air as she'd worked.
It was as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, bringing forth a happiness he'd never seen in her azure eyes. He'd avidly watched her move about the apartment from his loft, unable to stop himself from sitting at the top of the stairs, observing quietly, committing her every movement to memory. Yet, it made him want things … things he'd never have. Would she stay if Ed were no longer a threat?
Daryl craved her more than air, his feelings only growing as her domestic side came to light. It had happened more than once, finding himself in the kitchen with her while she prepared a meal, eager to help her, using it as an excuse to be close to her. He could endure Merle's snickers and smug smiles, as long as he kept his mouth shut where Carol wasn't made to feel uncomfortable.
His dreams revolved around his friend – his best friend, if he were honest with himself – and how he longed for her to be a permanent fixture in his life. Not as his friend, but something more … so much more. He wanted to come home from work and know she'd be waiting for him with her angelic smile and a kiss of welcome. He wanted her in his bed, to wrap himself around her in sleep, her presence soothing his worries away. He didn't just want sex with her as Merle had accused him years ago at the beginning of their friendship. He wanted her heart, her love, and his soul died a little each day thinking he'd never have it, never have her feel that way about him.
It had only made matters more awkward between them when she'd barged into the bathroom several nights ago as he'd been climbing out of the shower. Daryl banged his head on the open hood of the Camaro, his face flushing the color of ripe tomatoes as the memory slammed into him. She'd thought he was still downstairs in the garage. It had been an oversight on his part, not greeting her when he'd come home. The simple oil change he'd done at the end of the day had left him a mess when the oil pan had slipped from his hands, dousing him in 10W-40. All he'd wanted was a shower before he sought her out and apologized for missing dinner.
He'd barely had time to grab the towel from the rack and cover his groin. Carol had stood there, a deer-in-the-headlights look on her ashen face before her eyes began to trail over his wet glistening flesh. He'd been equally shocked, his body refusing to obey simple commands as he'd stared back. She'd taken her time as she'd perused him, and he'd mentally counted … five, six seven … twelve … fifteen, sixteen seventeen … seconds before she'd glanced back to his face to meet his eyes, a fiery blush coloring her delicate cheekbones before she'd glanced away with a swift apology and raced from the room.
Now, his girl couldn't be in the same room with him without a blush to light her face. And it was his fault. He'd made her uncomfortable and he was at a loss as to how to fix it. How had he managed to screw it all up in just six days? A more pressing problem was the fact they were leaving for the retreat in less than twenty-four hours. There was no way Ed was going to believe them a couple if they blushed every time they looked at one another. Fuckkkkk!
"I can't imagine what that wrench has ever done to you to deserve such treatment," her voice carried throughout the cavernous garage as she stepped off the staircase.
Daryl whirled around to find her moving towards him, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips, a bowl held tightly in her hand. He snorted at her remark, the corners of his lips twitching with want of a smile. "Carburetor's shot. I'm gonna have t' call McClellon's salvage yard t' see if he's got some parts I can use. He's usually got what I need," he said softly.
Carol's eyes slid to half mast, the sound of his graveled voice washing over her like a caress. She gestured to the bowl in her hands. "You missed dinner … again. Thought you might be hungry."
"Sorry," he quickly apologized, "got caught up." He took the bowl from her, the smell of chicken and rice casserole wafting up to his nose, his stomach growling. He watched her move to the workbench which held an array of tools and perch on its surface. "Y' didn't have t' come all th' way down here t' bring my dinner, Carol."
"Nonsense," she scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Y' need to eat, and to be honest, Merle was eyeing the portion I'd set aside for you. I know he was just waiting for me to retire to my room before he snatched it."
Daryl leaned back against the bench, devouring the meal, much hungrier than he'd thought. He adored her culinary skills. Carol loved to cook for them – or so she'd insisted – and she never failed to make something fresh and new, dishes they'd never tried before. It beat the hell out of the Chinese takeout, pizza, and burgers they were used to eating.
He set his bowl aside, his hunger sated as he peered at her from beneath his lashes. "Thanks … for dinner."
Carol smiled, pleased he'd seemed to enjoy it, but just as quickly it faded, and her eyes skittered away from him. "I think we have a problem. I don't think we should go away this weekend."
Daryl turned to fully face her, his brows drawn in confusion. "What … why?! Y' already paid for th' trip, an' y' said you'd lose your deposits if we didn't go. How come y' changed your mind? Did I do somethin'?"
Still, she wouldn't raise her gaze, her arms wrapping around her middle, shutting herself off. "It's nothing you've done, Daryl. You've been wonderful."
He took a step closer, her knees barely brushing his pants. "Then tell me what's wrong."
Carol couldn't find the words to tell him, everything fluttering madly in her mind urging her to keep silent. Nothing she could say would seem right, and she didn't want to see pain etched on his handsome features. Instead, she slowly raised her hand, bringing it to rest against his scruffy cheek, and he flinched … just as she'd known he would.
"Ed came by the coffee house this afternoon. He took great pleasure in taunting me, not at all convinced you and I are dating." Which was such a crock of bull! Daryl insisted either he or Merle bring her to the campus in the mornings and picked her up in the evenings, rearranging their schedules to accommodate her so she'd never be alone in the car parks. Daryl took her grocery shopping, to run errands, wherever she needed to go, using the tasks as an opportunity to be seen together. She lowered her hand back to her lap. "Just because I've moved doesn't mean he hasn't been following me. He said he's seen us around town this past week, and we don't seem close enough – physically – to have a meaningful relationship."
Daryl felt his temper blaze furiously. That sonofabitch just couldn't take a hint. "What th' fuck does he know? Ain't his business who you're with, s'long as it's not with him," he seethed.
"It doesn't matter. We're not fooling him a bit. I can't even touch you without you flinching or pulling back. We'll never be able to pull this off."
"So, we'll fix it. We still got all day before we leave tomorrow afternoon."
"Daryl …"
"NO!" he barked, desperate to help her. "We ain't givin' up. We'll show th' fucker he ain't never gonna have y'. Jus' tell me what I need t' do, Carol."
Carol sighed, believing it a pointless endeavor, but he looked so determined, so hopeful, she couldn't deny him another chance. "The whole idea of our 'pretend dating' is to convince him I've moved on, that I'm in love with someone else. People in love touch one another without conscious thought. How will he ever believe us if you constantly pull away from me, Daryl?"
Daryl flushed, feeling the heat creep up his neck to burn his face, but he refused to give up. "I can do this, Carol. I can be what y' need," he said firmly, taking the last step to bring him to stand between her parted knees into her personal space.
She knew of his past, knew of his aversion to touch, one late night of drinking with Merle and some of his friends there at the garage having loosened his tongue. Drunken confessions weren't his thing, but once he'd started talking, he hadn't been able to stop. They'd sat in a dark corner, and he'd bared all. He'd avoided her for a week afterwards, but when he'd finally regained his courage to face her, she hadn't looked on him with pity or rejection. It had simply endeared him to her more.
Carol gasped, however; when he moved into her space, his body wedging itself between her thighs, heat flooding her being as sheer bliss pinged against her nerve endings. God, how often had she dreamed of having him so close, willing if not eager?
His hands settled on the table on either side of her hips, his lithe frame leaning towards her as he breathed deeply. He knew she could sense his nervousness, but he didn't care. This was for her protection against a psychopath. And perhaps if they were successful, if she liked their pretend relationship … maybe she'd want one for real. He shivered, the possibilities endlessly mapping themselves out, showing a reel of 'what if's' for their future. He couldn't let anything stand in his way.
"Touch me," he whispered, his chest pressing to hers as his breath fanned against the whorls of her ear. He reached for her hand when she hesitated, tugging it between them to rest over his madly beating heart. "Touch me, Carol."
Tears sprang to her eyes, her hand curling into a fist. Oh, how she wanted it to be real and not just some sacrifice he was making in his bid to protect her. "I can't."
His fingers moved to the buttons on his work shirt, unfastening them one by one as he stared into her fathomless azure eyes so filled with anguish it tore at his heart. "Y' can," he growled, reaching for her hands again the moment his shirt hung open. "Touch me. I ain't never had no one touch me with care, Carol … jus' pain." He inched closer, pressing his brow to hers. "Show me."
Carol whimpered as she squeezed his hips with her thighs, pulling him closer, watching him carefully. He was so beautiful, as if he'd been chiseled from the finest marble, a testament of raw masculinity, and for the moment, he was hers. With the lightest touch, she surrendered to his pleading call, smoothing her splayed hands over his chest, the sparse hairs teasing her palms, electricity coursing up her arms. He didn't flinch, but in fact, leaned into her questing fingers, avidly seeking her touch. She followed the light dusting of hair lower, ghosting over his firm abs, the muscles flexing beneath the pads of her fingers. She could easily lose herself, simply exploring the warm texture of his skin.
"Daryl …" she mumbled, worriedly seeking his gaze. "Is this ok?"
His brow dropped onto her shoulder, and he turned his face into the crook of her neck, his lips tracing the artery in her swan-like neck. "Yes," he breathed, reveling in her touch. He could so get used to this, her hands on him, her scent, the soft breathy moans which escaped her parted lips. "Feels so good. 'Cause it's you. I trust y'."
Her heart fluttered, knowing the sacrifice he'd made to let her in. She'd been so afraid he would shy away from her despite his best intentions. Her hands retraced the path she'd made, sliding under his collar, her arms wrapping around his neck as she felt his lips and the scratch of his teeth against her throat. "Can I kiss you?" she asked, her voice a breathy tremulous whisper, smiling softly at the deep growl he emitted as her nails scratched gently along his nape.
He drew back just enough to look at her, taking in her hopeful eyes and faint smile. Fuck! Shit was getting deep. He didn't know if he'd be able to stop if he was able to taste her fully. The first time she'd kissed him had been just a tease, a show for Ed. But he knew he had to prove it to her, prove he could kiss her, prove he could make their plan work.
Daryl didn't hesitate a moment longer, closing the distance between them, his belly a coiling mass of live eels as his lips touched hers. His need for her was nigh unbearable, his cock straining against faded denim. The lack of finesse was supplemented with eagerness, his tongue darting out to tease at the seam of her lips. He knew he was sloppy and uncoordinated, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. His girl moaned, her thighs tightening about his hips, dragging him closer to alleviate the ache between her legs, one thought pummeling his dazed senses … she wanted him.
"Holy shit!" Merle's voice intruded.
Daryl sprang away from her, a guilty flush spreading over his cheeks as he stared at his brother in horror. He reached out quickly to steady Carol as she hopped down from the workbench. "What th' fuck, Merle!" he snarled as Carol beat a hasty retreat towards the stairs.
"Well, when I came downstairs, I sure as shit didn't think I'd be walkin' in on that. Y'all practicing for th' big show this weekend, or is there somethin' y' wanna tell me?"
Daryl groaned and leaned back against the bench, his erection having died a quick and merciful death at his brother's interruption. "Started out that way, but … I don't know." He ran a weary hand over his face. "She said Ed's still followin' her, was tauntin' her at work t'day. He told her we wasn't foolin' him."
Merle shrugged. "Because y' have problems with touch?"
Daryl nodded. "Yeah. I wanted t' show her I could do this."
"An' I fucked it up, right? Goddamnit, brother, I'm sorry," Merle said, genuinely remorseful. There wasn't a bigger fan of those two getting their shit together than him. "Next time, throw a fuckin' sock on th' stairs or somethin'!"
Daryl stared down at the floor, the toe of his boot scuffing at an oil stain. "I don't want t' pretend with her, Merle. I want it t' be real. What we … what I felt; it was real."
Merle slung an arm around his brother's shoulders and led him towards the staircase. "Well, then, let's hope this weekend y' can find yer balls an' tell her what y' want. I'm thinkin' her answer just might surprise y'."
A/n: Oh, she has no idea what she's awoken in him. This should prove interesting lol. Thank you ALL so much for your support and reviews on this story. It means so much to me. *hugs*