by Rebecca Shea
With just one kiss, I know I’ll never have enough of her. “I care, Emilia.”
I RAN. I pulled away from Alex, and I ran.
Buried under my down comforter, I wrestle with what that kiss meant.
It was soft.
It was hungry.
It was sweet.
It was needy.
It was caring.
But most of all… it was claiming.
I let him kiss me, and I kissed him back. I can still taste him on my tongue, a combination of mint and beer. I can still feel his soft lips roaming while his firm hands held me in place just before I ran.
Why did I run?
Shit.
Kicking off the covers, I stumble out of bed and my feet hit the floor. The moonlight is peeking through the sheer curtains, casting just enough of a glow that I don’t need a light. I catch a shadowed glimpse of myself in the mirror and curse under my breath for not buying a robe today. My very short pair of white satin sleep shorts and a matching spaghetti strap camisole leave little to the imagination.
I open the bedroom door and traipse down the hallway, knowing very well that the security cameras can see me. I find Alex sitting at his desk in his office. His face is buried in his hands, his elbows resting on the glass desk. I stand for a moment and watch him. The sharp lines of his jaw, his perfect nose. Everything about this man is perfection. I jump when the large clock on the wall sounds out, telling me that it’s three in the morning. Alex is in his dark athletic shorts and T-shirt again, his hair a tousled mess.
“Alex,” I say quietly as not to startle him. He doesn’t move. Moving closer, I say his name again. He jumps, and I freeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His eyes are bloodshot as they focus on me. I catch a glimpse of the screen and see the security feeds are up, as well as two other screens. One screen shows an email account and the other an online banking session that has timed out.
“Come on. You need to go to bed.” I reach for his hand, and he takes mine. I tug gently on his arm. He leans forward and shuts off the monitors that display information other than the security feed. In the hall, I let him go, nudging him toward his room.
“Goodnight, Alex,” I whisper as I make a right turn back to my room, but his hand catches my wrist, stopping me.
“Why did you run away from me earlier?” He sounds hurt and his eyes search mine for answers.
It’s the question I’ve replayed in my head over and over. I hesitate answering him—my answer embarrassing even me.
“Why?” he presses.
“I don’t need pity kisses. You felt sorry for me. I could see it in your eyes. Don’t feel sorry for me.” My voice is tense, clipped.
Before I can register what’s happening, he has me pressed against the wall in the hallway, his lips on mine again. This time, they’re needy—hungry.
“Alex.” I gasp for air as his lips trace my jawline and down my neck. His taut stomach presses against me and holds me firmly against the wall. Suddenly, he stops and pulls away, his fingers still tangled in my hair. His dark eyes search mine as I try to regain my composure.
“Did that feel like pity?” He licks his bottom lip, tucking it between his teeth.
My mind moves a million miles an hour, but all I see in slow motion is that tongue as it swipes his lower lip.
“Answer me,” he pleads, squeezing my shoulders. “Did that feel like pity?”
I shake my head, and a muffled response slips from my lips. “No.”
For just a moment, he hesitates before he reaches out to me. “Come with me.” He takes my hand, moving quickly down the hallway and into his bedroom. His room is noticeably darker than mine. I can make out the water wall, but everything else is almost pitch black. I hear him pulling the decorative pillows off his bed and tossing them to the floor before he releases my hand and pulls the comforter back on his bed.
“Get in.” It’s not a question or a suggestion; it’s a demand.
I hesitate again and contemplate running for the second time tonight, but something inside me stirs. That fire that I have been feeling in my belly and the intense, yet foreign emotions I feel for Alex have me throwing caution to the wind and going with it. I step around him, sliding in. My skin and my satin pajamas glide across the cool silk sheets as I settle in. My heart races as I hear him round the bed, discarding his T-shirt and shorts before settling in next to me.
His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and I feel all of him—all six foot three of firm, naked male. “Tell me not to touch you, Emilia, and I won’t,” he whispers as he takes my lips again and I let him. I let him show me what he’s feeling, since he won’t tell me. I hum against his mouth, feeling the intensity of his kisses—soft, yet controlling. He rolls me onto my back, his large hand wrapping around my neck as he positions himself on top of me. His forefinger rubs small circles in the hollow of my neck until his lips make their way there. He kisses me tenderly and bites gently at the skin.
“This is my favorite place on you,” he breathes against that shallow spot. My body relaxes and I relinquish any self-control that I believed I had. I’m his.
His hands push the slim satin straps of the camisole off my shoulders, and the loose top slinks its way down. The globes of my breasts peek out from the top of the white satin top, and he drops light kisses down my neck and over each shoulder blade while his fingers rub my taut nipples through the thin satin. I moan and he takes that as an invitation. With a fast tug, he pulls the top down further, freeing both breasts. He inhales sharply as he takes both into his palms. He’s settled between my legs, and I can feel his warm, rock-hard length pressing against my inner thigh. The loose satin shorts provide essentially no barrier between us.
Placing his warm mouth over my right breast, his tongue swirls circles over the nipple until he finally pulls the tight bud into his mouth. His teeth gently nip at the sensitive skin, and I can feel myself coming undone beneath him. My hips rise when he repeats the same action to my left breast, and his cock hardens even more against me.
“Tell me to stop,” he mumbles again between soft bites to my breast.
“No,” I pant, shaking my head. I need him—I need to feel something, and maybe this is wrong. I’ll most likely regret this in the morning. But right now, this is what I need.
“Say it again, Em. Do you want me to stop?” I love that he calls me Em, like I belong to him.
“No.” My voice breaks. “Don’t stop.”
In one swift move, he rips the camisole from my chest and pulls himself off of me. Grabbing the waistband of my pajama shorts, he pulls them down before tossing them aside on the floor. I lie powerless beneath him. His eyes roam freely over me, studying every curve, every limb. Leaning forward, he takes a finger and trails it from my belly button down, pressing it against my opening. My legs fall open and the slick entrance is a sure sign that I’m ready for him.
“Are you on the pill?” he asks. “I’m clean.”
“No, but I’m clean too.”
He leans over and pulls a condom from the nightstand. “You’ll have to take care of that. I want to feel you without one of these,” he says, ripping the foil wrapper. Tossing it aside, he rolls the condom down his long shaft. He’s an expert in everything he does. He’s quick and efficient and takes control, positioning the head of his cock at my entrance. He stares directly into my eyes as he pushes in, filling me. I gasp at the intrusion and hold my breath, a mixture of pleasure and pain. A good pain. My hands grip his biceps as he fills me completely.
“So fucking good, Emilia. So warm and wet,” he murmurs against my lips, withdrawing himself almost completely. I panic as I feel him leave me, but with a heady thrust, he forces his way back inside, pounding against my insides.
“Oh God,” I breathe as he does this again and again.
He hooks my long legs over his arms, opening me wide to him as his thrusts become faster. I’ve had sex before, but this is nothing like I’ve ever exper
ienced. Alex is a master, and he knows how to work my body. My hands grasp and scratch the skin of his back as he fills me again and again.
“Alex,” I muster between breaths. I can feel my orgasm building, but I’m not ready to let go yet. I want this to last—I want him inside me all night. No other man has made me feel cherished, worshipped, and cared for before. I’ve only been with boys, not men, and Alex is a man.
“Stop,” I gasp as he slams into me, then comes to an abrupt stop.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His face is concerned, caring.
My head falls back and my eyes close. “No. I’m just not ready yet.”
“Oh no, you don’t get to call the shots. I do.” He picks up his pace again, this time, his finger swirling around my swollen clit. “I will make you come when I want to, how I want to, and as many times as I want to. Do you understand?” I’ve always been in control of everything. For now, I relinquish that control to Alex. He’s demanding, but careful—forceful, but gentle. As he takes control of me, I fear it’s not just my body I’m handing over to him—it’s my heart.
I nod, too many feelings swirling through me to properly answer. He pulls my legs up over his shoulders one at a time, giving him better access as he thrusts deeper, filling every inch of me. I can feel the pressure deep inside me—not painful, but full.
My hands grasp his forearms, and he presses his forehead against mine. We’re a combination of deep breaths and groans, our eyes never leaving or wavering from one another. My body begins to shudder, and my head falls back as my orgasm takes over.
“Look at me. I want to see you when you come,” he says, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He pulls my legs off his shoulders as my body comes down from its high. I tremble as I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.
“God, you’re beautiful when you come.”
I inhale sharply as I catch my breath.
His pace quickens, and I wrap my legs tightly around him. Our bodies are a tangled mess of sweaty arms and legs.
“Come for me now,” I tell him.
With his breathing heavy, he slams into me one last time, and I feel his cock throbbing against my inner walls. He rests his head on the pillow, our cheeks touching as I hear him try to catch his breath. I trail my fingers up and down his spine and feel goose bumps prick at the soft skin of his back.
“I’m not done with you yet, Emilia,” I hear him whisper into the pillow, and I can’t help but smile.
I WAKE SUDDENLY, disoriented in a dark room. I struggle to sit up when I realize a warm body is wrapped around mine.
“What’s wrong?” Alex mumbles into the back of my head. I relive every moment of last night in my head. His hand rubs small circles across my belly and that fire is back. Desire pools deep inside and I want more of him—all of him.
“Time to get up.”
“Lie here with me.” His voice is groggy as I twist around to face him. He drapes his arm over my side and pulls me closer, our naked bodies touching. “I like sleeping next to you,” he mumbles, “and with you.”
I sigh lightly but don’t shrug out of his embrace. I lie face to face with Alex, listening to the slight wheeze of his lungs. I can feel his warm breath on my neck and, for a moment, I feel happiness. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep again, his breathing steady, so I make my escape. I slide his arm off of me and sneak out of bed, making no attempt to find my torn pajama top. I shrug on my bottoms before tiptoeing through to the door.
I move quickly down the hallway, back to the comfort of the guest room. Then, just as I near the kitchen, I see a woman with her back to me. I have two options: turn around and head back to Alex’s room or continue to mine and hopefully not get caught shirtless. I decide on the latter. I’m within steps of my doorway when I hear a loud voice shriek and a flurry of Spanish words.
My right arm covers my bare breasts as I glance over my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “My name is Emilia.”
“Emilia, si.” She grimaces. “I’m Rosa.” Her accent is thick, but her English is good. Rosa is short compared to me. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, with a sprinkling of gray at each temple, and her skin is light brown and flawless. She is heavyset and looks to be around fifty or so.
“I was just…” What exactly do I tell her?
“No need to explain yourself, mija.” She attempts an awkward smile. “What can I make you for breakfast?” Her brown eyes twinkle and her smile is big, comforting. Her nonchalance to my naked body has me wondering if this happens often, Alex and naked women. I dismiss the thoughts and use both arms to shield my naked chest as I back slowly into my room. “Nothing, thank you. I’ll grab something once I get ready.”
“Mr. Estrada told me you’d be stubborn.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “Let me cook for you.”
I smile, happy that Alex has mentioned me. “Scrambled eggs would be nice. Thank you.”
“Scrambled eggs it is. Now go get some clothes on, child.” She laughs as she turns around and pulls a pan out from a cabinet. I slip further into the room and pull a new outfit out of the closet and lay it across the freshly made bed that Rosa must’ve made.
I shower and dress, leaving my hair to air dry. Grabbing the paper application for Café Au Lait, I head to the kitchen and sit at the island to fill it out. After reading through the questions, I decide to leave out the parts I don’t have answers to. I don’t even know my address, and I’ve never had a phone number.
Rosa sets a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me, along with a large glass of orange juice and a small bowl of oatmeal.
My eyes bulge at the amount of food. “Rosa, I’ll never eat all this!”
“Orders from Mr. Estrada. He wants you to eat.” She gives me a no-nonsense look. When I give her my own grimace, her expression turns sympathetic. “Eat what you can, dear.”
She taps my hand with hers before scurrying over to the sink to wash the dishes. While I eat, I finish the application and set it aside. I eat most of my breakfast and am sipping my orange juice when Alex appears in the kitchen. He’s wearing the athletic shorts from last night and no shirt.
Oh my God. That chest.
“Shirtless, Mr. Estrada,” Rosa says. “Seems like a common theme this morning.” She chuckles.
Alex glances at me, and I blush.
“Good morning to you too, Rosa,” he says as he walks toward me. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and smiles when he sees my almost empty plate. “What’s this?” he asks, picking up my application.
“My application for Café Au Lait. I need your address, though. I don’t know it, and would it be okay if I used your phone number? I’ve never had a phone.”
He looks at me, bewildered. “I’ll give you a P.O. Box for your address. I don’t want anyone knowing you live here, and I’ll get you a phone. You’ll have a phone number.”
More to pay him back for? “I don’t need a phone.”
“Emilia, you need a phone,” he insists in a firm tone. “I’ll handle it.”
I let out a loud sigh.
“Don’t sigh at me. I want to do this.” He smiles at me as he leans against the counter. “What’s for breakfast, Rosa?”
Rosa sets down a plate in front of him just like she did for me, only with twice as much food. “Ah, gracias, Rosa. Gracias.”
She rolls her eyes at his charm and disappears down the hallway. Alex eats and I nervously strum my fingers on the granite counter.
“So, we should probably talk about last night,” I say quietly, resting my chin in the palm of my hand.
“What about last night?” Alex asks casually, taking a spoonful of oatmeal.
I swallow, wondering what he’ll think. “We probably shouldn’t do that again.”
“Why?” Because I’m falling for you and when you get sick of me, which you will, I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to just walk away from you.
“I just don’t want things to be weird with us. You know… room
mates and all.” I try to downplay my feelings for him by throwing out the “roommates” bit.
My eyes fall to the bowl in front of me and I take another bite of oatmeal. Alex sets his spoon on the plate and pushes it aside. “Last night was just the beginning, Emilia. I gave you the option to tell me no and you didn’t. It’ll happen again. Mark my words.”
The beginning? Of what? He can’t possibly want a relationship with me after one night. We barely know each other. Stammering, my cheeks heat with nerves and embarrassment. “But maybe this is a bad idea.”
“Do you think this is a bad idea, Emilia?” He raises his eyebrows, looking through me instead of at me.
“I don’t know,” I admit weakly.
He softens at that, rubbing his hands up my forearms. “Then let what’s supposed to happen, happen. Don’t question everything.”
His cell phone rings on the counter, and he reaches for it. Without another word, he answers and disappears down the hall and into his office. I lay my head on my arms and try to calm my racing heart. “Let what’s supposed to happen, happen.” If he had any idea what those words mean to me, he’d take them back.
I retreat back to my bathroom, where I apply some makeup and fluff my almost dry hair. Looking in the mirror, I take a deep breath and mentally give myself a pep talk before bringing my application to Café Au Lait. I need this job, and I can’t let my nerves get the best of me. I need to push Alex out of my mind so I can focus and not sound like a fumbling idiot.
Slipping my feet into a pair of wedge sandals, I grab my wallet and head back to kitchen. I find my paper application on the counter where I left it, but there’s a new cell phone on top of it. The address and phone number sections of my application have already been filled out. I smile as I pick up the phone and run my finger across the sleek touchscreen, bringing the phone to life. I cannot believe Alex would do this for me. He’s too generous, but I appreciate that he’s concerned about me. There are two contacts listed in the phone, Alex and Saul. I roll my eyes when I see Saul’s name.
