Wearing Number Eight: For Arda

[The New]

Time soldiered on, without any notable bookmarks or chapters in her life. She'd thrown herself into work to deal with the aching hole in her chest that Arda had left. Every now and then she'd go to the sports bar with Mac and Layla, but she made sure to avoid the soccer games. Even if it meant missing out on big games where the bar was packed. She couldn't yet. She wasn't ready.

Candice had been acting weird around her ever since she'd requested to be taken off the Turkey National Team's account. She didn't want anything more to do with the account, or with the memories it held. But Candice had insisted on keeping her on. In fact, their international business was doing so well that she'd tried to bribe Mikaela with the offer to move to Europe and open up their EU office.

Mikaela had asked her for a few days to consider it. She felt like she needed a fresh start, something to reinvigorate her, as Arda once had. Life had felt stale recently, like she was looking at it through a black and white filter. Everything around her lacked vibrance. But the thought of being in a country where soccer dominated the sports scene had Mikaela second guessing the move. She could barely handle watching soccer on a TV thousands of miles away. What would she do when she would be faced with meeting players or attending games? And what if Arda happened to be at one of them? Her chest tightened when she thought of him.

Candice's message was still up on her phone when she got into the car, slamming the car door behind her. "Client meeting! Cottage by the lake! Be there at 1pm!"

It was weird for Candice to want to host a client meeting in her cottage by the lake. But Mikaela wasn't going to question it. She loved the serenity of the lake and the peacefulness of the little cottage. She'd always wondered why Candice even had the house. It seemed so at odds with her lifestyle, and with her in general. Maybe she'd been staying at the lake cottage as part of her mission to drink less. Mikaela knew when Candice went on one of her quests to give up alcohol, she always craved brownies. She said she was 'allowed' to have them as a trade for her good behavior. So she'd stopped by the store to get her some on her way over. Whoever the client was, would probably also appreciate the treats as well.

As she drove up to the little cottage, her chest ached at the familiar sight of the worn blue shutters and yellow door. The path from her parking spot on the street was overgrown with small mushrooms and wild flowers. Mikaela tried to hold the aching in her chest at bay, as she opened the door to the cottage.

"Candiceee." Her sing-songy voice echoed through the cottage. "Guess what I brought. Your favoriteeee"

She peered around the corner, into the living room. And then she froze.

Standing in the center of the living room was Arda. She blinked at him, unsure if he was really there. Or if it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Maybe she'd finally gone crazy. Cracked.

"Hey." His voice was raspy, deep, and enticing just like she remembered it. And real.

She dropped the tray of brownies in her hand, shaking her head as she backed into the door.

"What are you –" She could barely choke out the words before he was on her. He cradled her head in his hands as he kissed her. They held the kiss, letting it deepen, before something in them snapped. Raw emotion poured out of them, as their kiss became more ravenous, until they were practically devouring each other. Articles of clothing flung in the air, their fingers hurriedly undoing buttons, zippers, and clasps. Finally, they stopped, completely bare in front of one another. They stared into each other's eyes, breaths heavy.

There would be no teasing or taunting this time, they both knew that. He hooked her leg under his arm, while she hovered on her one standing leg, her arms wrapped around his neck. He positioned himself at her entrance. When his eyes met hers, there was lust, but also something more. Something more complex. But she didn't want complex right now. She just wanted him. All of him. She rocked her hips, causing his tip to graze her entrance. And that was all he needed as an invitation. He met her movement with a hard thrust. She moaned into his chest. The position of their bodies swiped at her sensitive bud, increasing the pleasure with each of his strokes. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck as he continued thrusting in and out of her, faster and faster. The pleasure began to build, and nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that he'd let her be alone for weeks. That he'd never tried calling or texting. That she'd cried countless nights thinking of him. Nothing mattered as he filled her completely, her body wracking with waves of pleasure before she came, screaming out his name. Or as he kissed her on the throes of her climax, moaning into her mouth before he reached his.