Serious Ink
Page 6
With one hand hot inside of his and the other warmed by her steaming coffee cup, she had every reason to be warm despite the March night’s chill. The heat that swept through her as she stood, hardly daring to breathe, had nothing to do with the temperature.
When she’d first met Noah, she’d thought his eyes looked icy. Now, she changed her mind. Yes, they were a light, clear green – a cool color, definitely – but they were expressive, just like his mouth, and looking into them definitely did not leave her cold.
Instead, she felt like she was being drawn toward him, sucked into a gravitational pull. Just a few inches separated them, and those could be chalked up to their height difference. She took advantage of her shorter stature, studying the sensual curves of his lips and the way his breath escaped them, just barely fogging the air.
She could’ve stared for an eternity, but he moved, lowering his mouth so that his lips crushed hers in a kiss that was smooth and simple, as intense as she’d imagined it would be. He tasted like coffee – rich with a hint of sweetness – and though his lips were soft, his touch was firm as he untangled his hand from hers and placed it on her waist instead, drawing her close.
Just barely, the front of her body brushed his. The simple contact was enough to send shockwaves of desire through her. A part of her wished they were somewhere else, somewhere less public than the sidewalk in front of the café. At the same time, the moment was perfect – searingly hot without pressure for it to be more.
When they pulled apart, she was halfway breathless.
“Finally,” he said, the word more breath than noise, so that she almost didn’t hear him.
“What?”
“I know we’ve only known each other for a few days,” he said, “but it feels like I waited an eternity to do that. Does time move slower in Pittsburgh?”
“I’ve never lived anywhere else, but I don’t think so.” She knew what he meant. When every moment you spent with someone was measured by two breakneck heartbeats, time slowed to the speed of dripping molasses, sweet but frustrating. Over the past few days, how many times had she let her gaze linger on his mouth as she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him?
“I’d better take you home,” he said after a few more moments, during which she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his eyes – still intense, even if he kept a distance of a few inches. “To your place, I mean.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I know you tried to play it down, but I’m pretty sure your brother is plotting my murder as we speak. Are you sure this whole leaky roof thing isn’t just a ploy to get you home sooner?”
He gave her a half-teasing, half-rueful smile, and she returned it.
“I wish,” she said, “but that ceiling has been a disaster waiting to happen ever since we moved in. I’d better get that bucket and get home. If Paul gets tired of trying to keep my room dry, my bed will be destroyed.”
“All right.” Noah nodded as he opened his car’s passenger side door for her. “Guess I’ll have to take a rain check on dessert with you.”
“I’ll see you at the office the day after tomorrow, right?” she asked, already looking forward to the next time they’d see each other. Her eagerness had nothing to do with promises of future desserts and everything to do with the heat lingering on her lips.
“It’s a date. I’ll bring the fancy chocolates. Meet you at your desk?”
She gave him a look of mock-disapproval. “Not that I’m complaining, but the work atmosphere at Elite East certainly is liberal.”
He shrugged. “I’ll wait until your lunch break to spring the chocolates on you, then. How’s that for a compromise?” He took her hand, inspiring a fresh wave of heat, and helped her into the car before she could protest.
The warmth his kiss had imparted stayed with her throughout the drive and their quick stop at a home improvement store, but when he pulled up at the curb in front of her townhouse, she felt suddenly cold. What did he think of their date being interrupted by a leaky roof? He hadn’t complained, but talk about a disappointment. Who knew how things might’ve gone if it hadn’t been for her crappy townhouse and the repairs her landlord kept putting off?
With a heavy heart, she bid him goodnight – accepting a second kiss, not quite as long as the first, but just as hot – before trudging into the house, five gallon bucket in hand, to face the mess inside. When she reached the top of the stairs, she found Paul kneeling on her bed, his expression livid as he clutched a mixing bowl half-full of cloudy water.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her stomach knotting with guilt. Had he expected her home sooner? Maybe it’d been selfish of her to stop for coffee.
He glowered, a deep line creasing the skin between his eyes. “I just talked to our landlord about our little leak. You’re not going to believe the shit he’s trying to pull this time.”
* * * * *
Noah didn’t believe in love at first sight, or first kiss, or whatever. He was a business man; he knew life wasn’t a fairytale. But damn, one kiss with Zoe…
He’d felt something a single kiss had never made him feel before. And though he’d intended to drop her off at her house in the most gentlemanly of ways afterward, he hadn’t been able to resist a second taste. It had confirmed what the first kiss had made clear: he’d never wanted anyone so badly. It had hurt – physically hurt – to cut their date short, dropping her off at her house early. A part of him had wanted to whisk her back to his place where she’d have been warm and dry and all his.
Which made him feel like an ass when he considered the fact that she was at home dealing with the shitty inconvenience of a busted roof. For all he knew, the leak that’d broken out in her room meant she’d be sleeping on a couch that night. She couldn’t even spend the night in her own bed, and all he could think about was getting her into his.
“Damn it.” He swore, and the words echoed throughout his new apartment’s woefully bare living room. With the white walls and lack of any personal effects, save for the moving boxes piled in the corners, the place wasn’t exactly a joy to come home to. So far, the comforts of home included a futon and a chess board opened on top of one of the moving boxes to make a table.
Back in Buffalo, he’d had a roommate, and had left most of the furniture they’d shared there. The nicest thing he had in his new apartment was his bed, so he retreated there, sinking down onto the queen-sized mattress. Eventually he’d have to go furniture shopping, but he’d been too busy with work to fit it into his schedule, so far. What free time he’d had he’d spent mostly with Zoe.
As he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, thoughts of her – how she’d looked, how she’d looked at him and how she’d tasted – brought his dick to instant attention. His body had been primed by the crush of her lips against his, and he knew the ache in his balls wouldn’t go away on its own.
Fuck it. Unbuttoning his pants, he let himself remember the softness of her lips in vivid detail. The light press of her body against the front of his, too. If they’d been anywhere other than on a sidewalk in plain view of dozens of people…
He shoved his hand beneath the waistband of his underwear and wrapped his fingers around his cock, forming a tight fist. It’d been lust at first sight, and desire for Zoe had been rushing through his veins ever since he’d first laid eyes on her. He still remembered the way she’d smiled at him, the way her hot pink nails had clicked against the glass counter as she’d leaned forward, breasts drawing her t-shirt just a little too tight across her chest.
Not tight enough that she couldn’t wear it – just tight enough that he’d gotten hard then and every time he’d thought about it since. Now, he did what he’d wanted to do a dozen times over when he’d thought back to that moment – pumped his hand up and down his shaft, exhaling hard as the ache intensified, more exacerbated than relieved by the touch.
He remembered holding her hand and could imagine how it would feel wrapped around his dick, smaller and softer than h
is. The fantasy sent a bolt of urgency straight to his groin, and a bead of wetness appeared on the head of his cock, shining as every muscle in his body drew a little tighter.
Damn, he wanted her. So close to release, and he could already tell it wouldn’t satisfy. How many times would he end up doing this? He’d see her at work and – hopefully – outside of the office, on his own time. Less than a week since they’d met and her irresistible presence had been interwoven into his life, adding red hot threads of lust to his existence. He’d be lucky if he ever went soft.
As he stroked himself hard, dragging a thumb over the crown of his dick and letting the wetness there ease the friction on the way back down, he descended deep into fantasy, allowing himself to imagine bending her over the desk they’d built together. He’d push up her pencil skirt until her round ass was bare and cradling his dick, guide himself to where she’d be wet and ready for him…
He could’ve gone on imagining, in detail, what would happen then, but he lost it first, pressure bursting inside him like water over a cracked dam. No sooner had he reached the point in his fantasy where he buried his cock inside her than heat and wetness that was wholly unimaginary gushed over his hand. He breathed hard through several seconds of pleasure – pleasure that was lacking, even at its peak.
After he rose, threw his clothes into the corner where a laundry hamper would eventually go and turned on the shower, thoughts of Zoe refused to fade from his mind. She was a fantasy that stuck with him, one he could feel calling to him, just barely – and hopefully not always – out of reach.
CHAPTER 5
“It doesn’t sound bad,” Abby said, leaning on the counter, “but then, the ad is only two sentences long, so it’s kind of hard to tell.”
Zoe nodded, burying an eyetooth in her inner lip as she stared down at the paper. Her thumbs had grown ink-stained from flipping through the classifieds, and still, she’d only found a few ads seeking roommates. One of those had sounded downright creepy, another had been way out of her almost non-existent price range and a third had specifically requested a male roommate.
“It might be worth looking into,” she said, dog-earing the page so she wouldn’t lose it. “I don’t know – maybe I’m just getting my hopes up over nothing. Maybe it’s dumb to think I’ll find the right place with the right roommates in less than two weeks.”
12 days now, to be exact. Three days ago, when the townhouse roof had imploded into a mini Niagara Falls above Zoe’s bed, the landlord had responded to Paul’s irritated phone call and demand for repairs with an eviction notice. Though he’d never managed to make it to the townhouse to make or schedule any repairs, he’d shown up that very night with a written notice. Apparently, he’d decided that Paul, Zoe and Britney were more trouble as tenants than they were worth.
According to him, he was planning to sell the unit instead of renting it out again. Zoe couldn’t see who’d want to buy the place, unless he finally stepped up to the plate and repaired the roof, not to mention the faulty stove, drafty front door and bedroom window that refused to open.
“I can’t believe the law only requires a 15 day eviction notice,” Zoe grumbled, “especially when we’re up-to-date on our overpriced rent and everything. Who finds a place to live in just 15 days?” She’d started searching three days ago and still had yet to find anything truly promising.
Abby shrugged, shooting Zoe a sympathetic look. “I agree – it’s not much time. But you never know unless you try. Between you and me though, I bet your brother and his fiancée will understand if you’re not able to find a separate living arrangement. Living together has been working out pretty well for the three of you so far, right?”
Zoe sighed, feeling her shoulders sink slowly downward, as if the weight of the world had just increased by a few pounds. “Yes. It’s not like we don’t all get along. But I overheard them talking last night – they found a really great apartment. Nice, and surprisingly affordable. It’s near Azalea Hall, where my dad lives, and everything. They went to look at it and loved it. The only problem is that it only has one bedroom.”
Abby frowned. “So they’re moving in and now you have to find a place on your own?”
“They haven’t even mentioned it to me yet. I can tell they want the apartment, but they probably feel guilty about it. I’m planning on bringing it up soon, and it’d be great if I had some good news.”
Abby arched a brow. “By good news, you mean you hope you can find a place to live with roommates by then?”
Zoe shrugged. “I can’t afford an apartment on my own. Roommates are my only option.” She lifted up the classifieds section she’d dog-eared half to death. “Now if only I could find some.”
If she could just find the right people, in the right place … she’d finally have a taste of the independence she’d been craving. Paul and Britney would be able to live on their own without her as a third wheel. They’d been great about having her around, but she’d heard the longing in their voices the night before and wanted them to have a place of their own – they deserved a little privacy.
For that matter, so did she. If she never overheard her brother and his fiancée having sex again, it would be too soon. And there was no way she could bring a date – like Noah – back to her place if Paul was going to be around.
Abby pressed her palms against the glass, the colorful tattoos on her slender arms rippling a little as she stood up straight. “You should call, then.” She tipped her head toward the ad. “At least you’ll know you tried to make it work, even if nothing comes of it. I don’t have a client coming in for another half hour, and I already ate lunch. I’ll watch the counter and answer the phone for you while you make the call.”
“It shouldn’t take me nearly half an hour.” Zoe reached into her pocket, digging out her phone. “But thank you. You’re the best.” She knew very well that as the mother of year-old twins, Abby could’ve used that half hour for sketching – she also worked as a book illustrator – or simply to relax. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
There was no one on the leather couch in the waiting area, but Zoe chose to step outside anyway. It would be a little quieter there, without the music playing.
Outside the studio, the air had a bite to it. She’d foolishly left her jacket inside, and as she stood in front of one of the postered windows, her skin pebbled. Taking one last deep breath of brisk air, she dialed the number listed in the classifieds ad and pressed her phone to her ear.
By the third ring, she hadn’t dared to breathe. When someone picked up on the fourth, she exhaled in a rush, faintly dizzy.
“Hello?” a female voice – young sounding, Zoe noted – said.
“Hi. I’m calling in response to your ad for a roommate.”
For a second, all was silent, and alarm sliced through Zoe. Had she lost the connection?
“Oh. Right. Well, let’s see… Someone actually responded already. She’s moving in today.”
Despite the fact that she’d known the ad was unlikely to result in anything, Zoe’s heart deflated like a burst balloon, imploding on itself with astonishing, painful rapidness. “Oh,” was all she was able to force out.
“Yeah. There are three of us now. We do have room for a possible fourth, though. If you’re interested you can come by and meet everyone. If it seems like you’d be a good fit, we might be able to work something out.”
Zoe’s collapsed heart pulled itself slowly back together, forcing out a tentative beat. “Sure. When would be a good time for me to visit?”
“You busy today?”
“I’m at work right now, but I could come by later this afternoon.”
“All right. But just so you know, your room would be pretty small. Technically we’ve been using it as more of a storage space, but we could clear it out and you could fit a futon or something in there. A small one.”
“Okay.” Zoe didn’t hesitate. “What’s your address, and what time do you want to meet?”
* * * * *
Instead of appreciating the opportunity, she climbed reluctantly out of her vehicle, uneasiness pooling in her stomach at the thought of facing Paul and Britney. Not even the prospect of abandoning her car with its faulty heating and stepping into the warmth of the nursing home could make her step any quicker as she neared the front doors.
The visit with the three potential roommates had been a total bust. The fourth “room” had been a closet, for one – even smaller than she’d imagined after the warning she’d been given. She could’ve lived with that, but one of the women who inhabited the apartment smoked – indoors and constantly, apparently – and the place had been so filled with the toxic fog that she’d had a coughing fit upon walking inside.
After her embarrassing entrance, she’d been given a brief tour of the apartment. It had taken her about three seconds to realize that there was no way she could live in the place without shaving at least a decade off her life expectancy.
In addition to the heavy smoke, the kitchen had been tiny, crowded and a total mess – since even a crumb of wheat could make her seriously sick, she had to cook and store her food separately from gluten-containing dishes, using her own dedicated cookware. That would’ve been impossible living in the overcrowded unit with three other women.