by Franca Storm
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“In case you need anything else down the road.”
What the hell does that mean? What could I possibly need from him? This is all just so…weird. “Why did you do this?”
“I wanted to see you again.”
Wow. He’s so direct. So brazen. I’m not sure how to handle it.
There’s no denying that he’s charming. And, clearly, he does get me going. After all, I’m not the kind of woman to normally obsess over a man and I’ve most definitely been obsessing about the way he kissed my hand the other day. Just a seemingly innocent kiss like that had done things to me. But I need to remember who I am and what I’m like. This can’t go anywhere. It can’t happen.
“Listen…uh…Dan. I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but nothing can…happen here.”
I hand him back his business card, but he doesn’t pocket it. He places it down on the table.
He steps into me and I instinctively step back.
We continue the dance until I’m backed up against the wall with nowhere else to run to. He stops just shy of my personal space. His gaze rakes over me slowly and methodically, lingering on my thighs for a long while.
And then he lifts his eyes to mine as he says, “You think far too much.”
“Excuse me? You don’t know me.”
“I can see the wheels turning, babe. You’re analyzing everything I say. You’re filtering yourself. I can tell by your answers to my questions. You’re so guarded.”
“I—”
“Sorry, not guarded. Uptight. You’re uptight.”
He flashes that smug smile at me again and it takes everything I have not to slap it right off his face. Who the hell does he think he is? He can’t judge me like this. He hardly knows me.
“You need to get laid.”
“How dare you? How do you even know that I haven’t—?”
“Oh, trust me, I know. It’s blatantly obvious. You’re wound so tight.”
My eyes narrow at him. “Tell me what the groceries cost, so I can pay you. Then we’ll be even and you can leave.”
“Even if I allowed you to pay me for them—which I won’t—we still wouldn’t be even.”
“What?” I snap.
“I carted them all the way up here. You at least owe me lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah,” he says, pushing up the right sleeve of his leather jacket to glance at the silver Rolex strapped to his wrist. “It’s just after noon. Sounds like lunch time to me.”
“I…I’m not good with people.”
“You seem fine with me, babe.”
I take his words in and realize that he’s right. I do seem fine with him.
Well, this is very strange. Sure, one-on-one situations are a lot easier to deal with than a group of people, but it usually takes me ages to be comfortable with someone.
What kind of power does this guy have over me? I’d reacted my normal way when he’d knocked at the door, but as soon as I’d opened it and seen him standing there, all my apprehension had dissipated. My issues were nowhere to be found and I’d actually managed an entire conversation—or argument—without freezing up or panicking like I usually do.
Maybe it’s because he pisses me off so much. Perhaps my agitation and frustration transcended everything else.
Instead of this odd development unnerving me, it intrigues me. I want to explore it and figure out what it means.
Perhaps I can be around certain people?
Is that what this means?
If so, it would be a huge breakthrough.
I’m not going to get my hopes up, but I’m sure as hell going to investigate it. Yes, I am. I’m going to investigate the shit out of this.
“Fine. Lunch,” I say, easing him back with my hands to his chest.
Whoa. It’s solid. All hard muscle. I draw in a sharp breath to calm myself and then I move around him to the groceries.
Dammit. Touching him is a bad idea. I clearly can’t keep my body calm around him. This has never happened to me before. I’m always in control. I don’t understand this. Shit. Say something. Don’t let him see your reaction to him. Distraction by way of talking. Now. Now!
“I have to warn you, I’m not the best cook. My meals are just on the side of edible and that’s about it.” Good. That will do. Nicely done.
He chuckles. “Save your groceries. I’ll take care of it.” He pulls out his cell and dials. “Anything you don’t eat?” he asks quickly.
I shake my head.
“Good,” he says, smiling.
He turns away then and I hear him mumble something into his phone. What is he doing? He hangs up and slides his phone back into his inside jacket pocket. His gaze sweeps over me yet again.
This time it’s not just a casual glance. This time, his eyes are hooded and predatory. Uh oh.
“Stop doing that,” I demand, wrapping my arms around myself self-consciously.
“Just admiring the view.”
“Urgh,” I mutter, turning to leave the kitchen. I need to change and I need a couple of moments away from him to get my head together. Now.
He grabs my wrist, halting my escape.
I turn back to him and those enthralling eyes of his draw me into his gaze, holding me captive.
His thumb rubs gently over the sensitive skin of my wrist, sending a warmth right through me and little shivers of excitement. I can’t stop a moan from escaping me. I tremble at his touch, unable to control my reaction in any way.
“Mmm…the way your body reacts to the slightest touch from me is sensational.”
His free hand snakes around my waist and he pulls me flush against him. I let out a cry of surprise as I feel his own arousal against my stomach. His erection is prominent through the thin material of my tank. He leans into me, his hot breath caressing my neck. His voice is a low rasp as he says, “Feel what you do to me, babe? That’s all for you.”
I can’t think. I’m drowning in an overload of sensation. My ability to summon any coherent thoughts has been overshadowed by a thick, impenetrable haze of desire.
“Mmm…the things I could do to this body, Emma. The things you’d be begging me to do,” he whispers in my ear.
His tongue teases my earlobe, before he traps it between his teeth, nibbling gently.
And, right then, I’m gone. My mind shuts down. My defenses crumble.
“Ah,” I cry out, my legs giving way beneath me.
He catches me, chuckling as his hands grip my hips. “Fuck, you’re so responsive.”
He pushes us back against the wall and he holds me there, his fingers fixed firmly on the waistband of my shorts.
And then his lips crash against mine, capturing my mouth in a harsh kiss.
I grab at the lapels of his leather jacket for support as he deepens the kiss. It steals my breath away, catching me off guard and winding me from the sheer intensity of it. His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip and then prods between them, demanding entry. I make no attempt to resist. I have absolutely no resistance left in me. I open for him, parting my lips and granting him access. He moans into my mouth as he tastes me. The rumble of pleasure coming from him excites me even more, driving my state of arousal to new heights. Moisture is pooling between my legs now. Already. Incredible. A man has never been able to get me this wet from just a kiss. Holy crap. This guy seems to know my body better than I do. I am out of my mind. There’s no limit to what I’d allow him to do now. I have absolutely no self-control. No inhibitions. I just…want him.
I roll my hips, grinding against his hard dick. He moans in pleasure. He pushes into me, providing more friction that brushes up right against my clit. It’s almost too much. I’m panting uncontrollably, tugging at his leather jacket like a crazed animal. I can feel that smirk of his against my mouth.
The doorbell chimes suddenly.
Instantly, the spell is broken.
I pull back quickly, releasing his jacket and jarring my b
ack against the wall in the process. Ouch.
His hands are still on my hips, his mouth just inches from mine. I push him back, incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed now that the spell is broken and I’m thrust back into the harsh light of reality.
What have I done? He must think I’m a complete slut. I hardly even know him and I let him kiss me like that? Own my body in that way?
I’m mortified. Flustered. Beyond embarrassed.
One look at him tells me he isn’t sharing my thoughts. He wants more.
The doorbell chimes again. “Pizza,” he says simply, grinning at me.
So, that’s who he called earlier?
God, how am I going to sit through a lunch with him now, after what just happened?
What a nightmare!
***
Lounging back on one of Emma’s patio chairs, I drag on a smoke as I look out at the impressive view of the mountainous countryside just beyond her backyard.
I can see from just a brief glance that the fence needs fixing. The boards are rotted and all three sides surrounding the yard are leaning inward. The yard is nothing but a thick carpet of weeds. A dilapidated shed sits in the left corner. The patio takes up a third of the yard space. I noticed when I’d brought the pizza out here that several of the stones are cracked and uneven. I can tell the table is new—a nice rectangular six-seater with a frosted-glass top. Dark blue, wicker chairs surround it. They don’t look comfortable, but having now been sitting on one of them for close to ten minutes, I’ve thrown out my first assumption. They’re unbelievably comfortable.
I doubt she’s ventured out here since she moved here, because the sliding door leading out from the sunroom off the living room was stuck fast until I’d put some muscle behind it. I found some grease in the cupboard under the kitchen sink and lubed it up, so it won’t be a problem now.
Fuck, why did I do that? It isn’t my house. It’s none of my business.
I could lie to myself and say it was boredom. I’ve been waiting for her to join me for lunch for half an hour now. But I could’ve just smoked a couple more cigarettes if I was just simply bored, instead of doing home improvements for her.
That’s such a boyfriend thing to do. That word sends a shiver of trepidation through me. I am no nobody’s boyfriend. I don’t do commitment or sappy feelings. Been there, tried that and been burned before. Never again. Get your head together, asshole.
I hadn’t intended to move so fast with her.
When she’d reprimanded me for eye-fucking her so blatantly, I’d only planned on teasing her to get a reaction out of her. She’s so much fun to play with.
But the way she’d looked at me with those big expressive eyes of hers…fuck me…I’d lost all notions of taking things slow.
Kissing her was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I’ve been with my share of women—actually, many peoples’ share of women—but it’s never been explosive like it was with her. If the damn doorbell hadn’t interrupted us, I would’ve had her bent over the kitchen table in the next second, my cock buried so fucking deep inside her, she would’ve been screaming in rapture. I was completely out of control. I should’ve walked away after that. I shouldn’t be here still. But I just can’t do it. Not yet.
Fuck, the way she’d given herself over to me like that was unbelievable.
I hadn’t been expecting it.
I didn’t see that anxious nervousness of hers anywhere then. She was so submissive to my dominance. I couldn’t believe how she’d sunk into the role so easily.
But then a switch had flipped and she’d turned the tables on me, before I even knew what was happening. Aggressively tugging at my jacket, grinding against me, trying to rule my cock like that.
Since that fucking bitch, Isabella, I’ve never let a woman take control like that. Why had I allowed it with Emma? It probably had something to do with how amazing it felt. She’d completely possessed me, sending me out of my mind with the feel of her, the taste of that sweet mouth of hers.
I can’t leave, not until I have her completely. It’s only been half an hour and already I’m fucking obsessed with what happened. I need to get her out of my head. There’s only one sure-fire way to do that. I need to fuck her. It’s the only way to get her out of my system.
Where the hell is she anyway?
When I went to answer the door to the pizza guy, she took off, saying something about needing to change. How long does it take to change clothes? Certainly not thirty fucking minutes. She must be freaking out about what happened and doing that over-analyzing shit again.
I take another drag of my smoke and I’m about to get up and go looking for her when she suddenly emerges onto the patio, sipping a half-empty beer bottle in her hand.
She’s carrying a six pack in her free hand. She walks past me, barely able to look me in the eye, and sets it down on the table. Beer and pizza? Very down to earth. I haven’t done this in a while.
She’s wearing a light-gray hoodie over her tank top now. Sadly, the appetizing view of her lacy, black bra through that thin white top she was wearing is gone. She’s pulled on a pair of jeans instead of the tiny shorts she’d been wearing earlier. Hmm…she’s trying to cover herself up, to appear less attractive?
Well, it’s not working, especially not when I catch sight of her sexy, firm ass in those sinfully tight jeans. Damn, those things should come with a warning label.
I chuckle when I see the fluffy bunny slippers she’s wearing on her feet, complete with vibrant pink ears and wiry whiskers.
“What?” she asks as she sits down across from me.
I lean to the side and point at her slippers under the table. “Are those actual slippers, or do you have a pair of stuffed animals strapped to your feet?”
“Shut up,” she says, but I see the smile in her eyes.
She reaches across the table for one of the two pizza boxes and grabs a slice. I do the same and we sit there eating and drinking.
Neither of us says a word, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable at all. It’s easy, peaceful. It throws me at just how relaxed I feel with her. We’ve known each other for five seconds. It would normally take a hell of a lot longer to get to this point.
This isn’t good. I don’t want this.
No emotions. No connection, except the physical connection of my cock buried deep in her pussy.
I look up at her as I take another sip of my beer. I’m driving, so I’ve limited myself to one. The roads leading up to her place aren’t the best. I need to have my wits about me.
I’m ready to seal the deal and seduce her into fucking me.
But then I notice the three empty beer bottles resting over on her side of the table and the bottle currently in her hand.
How did she down all of those so quickly? I glance at my watch. It’s only been thirty minutes since she joined me out here. Holy shit. She looks back at me and I see right away that she’s drunk. Her eyes are glazed over. Also, she’s not sitting up straight and rigid in her chair anymore. She’s slumped back against it with a lazy smile on her face.
“You okay?”
“Great,” she responds, giggling.
Dammit. I can’t seduce her now. Not like this. Is that why she did it, to deter me? Nah, most guys wouldn’t care if the girl they wanted to fuck was a little intoxicated. She couldn’t possibly know that I’m a strict son of a bitch when it comes to that shit. I want my women wide awake, willing and fully responsive. There’s no challenge in it otherwise. Like right now.
She catches me scrutinizing the bottles.
“I haven’t spent this long around another person in a while,” she says quietly, her shy persona rearing up once more.
“A couple of hours?” I ask, certain she’s confused due to her intoxicated state.
But she nods, affirming, “Yeah.”
Wow. Unbelievable. Alison had mentioned that Emma was a recluse, but I’d thought she’d been exaggerating. I figured she was probably just shy. I was clear
ly wrong. It’s a hell of a lot more than that.
“You’re agoraphobic?” I ask.
She flinches at my words and looks down at her beer bottle, focusing intently on it.
“Please leave,” she murmurs quietly. “I really appreciate what you did with the groceries, but I can’t…you shouldn’t be here with me. You need to go.”
You shouldn’t be here with me? What the hell does that mean? I reach across the table and clasp her hand, but she jerks away, like I just burned her.
“No,” she says, shaking her head, her eyes still down.
“Emma—”
“Please, Dan. Just go. Sorry…I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“All right, babe,” I say, sighing and getting to my feet.
As I make my way back inside the house, I stop in my tracks as I hear her start to cry.
Shit. The sounds of her sobbing and upset rip right through me, reaching a place within that I’ve kept buried down deep for a hell of a long time.
I hesitate. Should I go to her? I know if I turn around and look at her, I won’t have a choice. This woman does things to me. That’s already been well established.
Fuck. No, I can’t. If I go to her and comfort her, things between us will definitely be more than just a casual thing. You want to fuck her, not date her, you fool! Wake up!
I don’t turn back around. I keep walking. I need to get the hell away from the fire before I get burned. Again.
Chapter 4
~Daniel~
I wave my hand dismissively at the red head making her way off the dance floor towards me. She screws up her face and flips me off, before sauntering off to try her luck elsewhere. Classy.
“What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?” J yells at me over the thunderous pulse of the techno music blasting through the club.
I glance at him sitting opposite me on one of the white leather couches, some brunette nestled against him, who is clearly already drunk off her ass. It’s dark and my vision isn’t the best right now on account of me being nicely fucking drunk, but I’m pretty sure she has her hand down his dress pants, jerking him off. The bastard is just sitting there, his arms hanging over the back of the couch and talking to me as though nothing is happening and the chick isn’t even there. He’s even more of an asshole than I am when it comes to women. They’re just a means to an end to him. An end that I don’t want to witness right in front of me.
