What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4)

by Selena Kitt

  “Oh but it is a big deal to me.” I whisper.

  “And I know that, sooner or later, when I can’t take it anymore, and I want more,” he continues to rant, “it’ll be like I’m fucking fifteen all over again. If you are actually as nice as you pretend to be, you’ll let me down easy – say you just wanna be friends…”

  He looks down at the floor again, but I can see tears in his eyes. I can’t believe it-he actually likes me that way. All this time it had felt like I was talking to a wall, like nothing I did could make him notice me as anything other than a colleague. But he did notice, and he misunderstood me completely.

  “John,” I say, while taking his face in my hands. “You don’t understand.” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes too as I look at his pained expression, but his gaze evades mine. I stand up on my toes, our faces only inches apart now. “I do not want to be just friends. I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you…”

  His eyes widen in disbelief, and our lips meet in a near perfect first kiss. Hesitant and gentle, his lips so soft against mine it makes me ache for more. One tear has started to run down my face as I kiss him. I drink in his scent, although it’s masked by how much he’s had tonight; I can still taste him. My hands have moved on, fingers running through his hair and pulling him down into me. He is starting to react, returning my kisses, until we’re both equally breathless. I coax his lips open more, allowing my tongue to find his, dancing around it. While our tongues meet, it’s as if the floodgates open inside of me, releasing all the desire I had locked up inside. Blood rushes outwards from my core into the farthest parts of my body until even my fingertips are buzzing. His large, strong hands find their way onto my back. He holds me so tightly against him. I can feel his warm body crushing against me and it drives me wild with desire. I’ve dreamt of this moment so many times and it does not disappoint. I take a step back, and he abruptly releases me.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stammers.

  I shake my head and smile, and lead him by the hand towards the sofa.

  “I’m not sorry,” I say, pushing him down. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long…”

  The disappointment that had appeared in his eyes is replaced by surprise again. I kneel next to him on the sofa, leaning in for another kiss. The excitement inside me is growing with every shallow breath I take and I can tell I’m having a similar effect on him. I keep losing myself in the moment. The only thing reminding me this isn’t just a dream is that, when I manage to open my eyes every so often I see his face right in front of mine. He’s here with me, finally. I can hardly believe it. His eyes seem to be losing focus, as though the long day as well as the drink is catching up with him.

  “You look beat,” I say, while tracing the tired lines under his eyes with my fingertips. “Here.”

  I hand him the nearly full glass of water that has been sitting on the coffee table for the better part of the evening.

  While watching him drink, and in spite of the fire he stirred in me I can feel how exhausted I am myself. He’s here now. We have nothing but time, and I’d rather have him sober before we do anything else.

  VII.

  I’m dizzy, like the world underneath me is moving. Side to side a few times, I shift to the side to get more comfortable and the moving stops. In my dream, there are little unidentifiable noises surrounding me. Footsteps, strange rustling sounds and running water. It’s just a foggy dream and my eyelids are heavy and stubborn. I don’t want to wake up yet.

  A loud click startles me fully awake-was that a door? I blink a few times before the room comes into focus. This place does not look familiar at all. A TV, Xbox and a stack of DVDs at eye level in a dark teak finish cabinet with a bunch of black candles in a holder on top. This is definitely someone’s living room, but whose, and how did I get here? I try to move, but my head feels like it weighs a ton.

  The candles are odd-who would have candles in their living room? Oh shit, is this a girl’s house? This possibility seems implausible, and yet as I stretch a bit and look around, I can see more evidence to support it. A purple hair band lying on the coffee table in front of me. It matches the curtains. It even smells of girl in here, flowery and sweet, but not in an overpowering sort of way.

  Carefully I try and sit up, worried that any sudden movement might have unwanted consequences. Where the fuck am I? What happened last night?

  I remember the bar, but memory gets hazy after I ordered some chicken wings quite a few drinks into the evening. Looking at the coffee table again, I’m starting to panic. It seems I’m alone here, whoever’s house this is…

  For what feels like forever, I just sit there on the couch with my head in my hands trying to figure out what’s going on. Trying to make my head stop hurting. Did I go home with someone from the bar? It seems unlikely.

  I look down at myself, still wearing the same clothes, though my shirt is untucked and belt loosened. No idea where my shoes are and how this fluffy blanket got around me.

  All of this is too confusing. If by some sort of cosmic accident, I managed to pick up someone from a bar and convince her to let me come home with her… If anything happened, then why am I on the couch and not in a bed? And if I just passed out here, where did she go? Maybe she’s uncomfortable that I’m here and hopes that I’ll leave before she gets back. That makes sense.

  Straining to get up, I try and support myself against the armrest of the sofa. But my efforts are interrupted by soft clicking and a louder thud.

  “Oh good, you’re up. Morning!” I hear behind me.

  Upon turning, I come face to face with the most beautiful and yet shocking sight ever. Cath’s cheeks are pink from the cold outside and her hair is loosely hanging down, framing her pretty face. She smiles at me and lifts up the bag in her hand.

  “Sorry, I just went and bought some bread. Didn’t want to disturb you. I thought you might like to sleep a bit longer…”

  I’m dumbfounded and just stare at her. This can’t be-perhaps I’m still asleep and only dreamt about waking.

  “Do you remember anything?”

  I shake my head, slowly, trying not to upset my sense of balance too much.

  “You came by last night, I guess you found my note after having a bit much to drink…”

  Flashes of last night are coming back to me slowly. God how embarrassing. Yes, her note from my bag. That’s how I found her house. And by the time I got here, I was pretty angry. Now I vaguely recall yelling at her as well. Sitting back down again, I start to rub the side of my head with my finger tips.

  “Oh fuck. I actually said all those things? I’m so sorry…” I whisper.

  Just sitting still, I struggle to dig for more memories of last night when I feel her hand burning into my shoulder. I hold my breath in an effort to disguise that even a simple touch from her forces my heartbeat into overdrive.

  “Don’t worry about it. Hey, I’ll be right back,” she says.

  I’m so deep in thought again that I only barely hear the door opening and closing behind me, followed by the sound of running water.

  After I accused her of messing me about, what did she say? She was crying, I definitely remember that. Shit I made her cry, I’m such an idiot! And then… she came closer and held me, and… I wish I knew whether I’m remembering last night or a dream.

  “No it can’t be…”

  “What can’t be?” she says. I hadn’t even noticed her coming back in. She sits down next to me again, legs folded and facing me. The thin fabric of her t-shirt clings around her just enough to show off her perfect, bra-less body. I force myself to look at her face instead. I wonder why she bothers with make-up usually; she’s so pretty without it.

  “Did we…?” I start, not daring to finish the question.

  She gives me a wicked smile and says, “What are you hoping that we did?”

  I feel blood rushing into my cheeks and just stare at her speechless.

  “OK, I’m being unfair.�
� She lets out a giggle, “We kissed. That’s it. I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of you while you’re out of it.”

  Her face turns serious. “But I need you to be honest. If what you said last night was just the drink talking…”

  I’m just shocked. She kissed me. All these images in my head-they’re real, no dream. I can hardly catch my breath. What does it mean? Maybe she was just trying to get me to calm down. After all, I was really riled up and might have scared her coming here like that.

  “Look, I was being truthful last night,” she continues. “I have wanted you all this time. But it seemed like you weren’t interested and I didn’t want to come off all desperate. I wanted a real chance…”

  I’ve got so many questions, I don’t know where to begin.

  “Why…”

  “I didn’t want to be your rebound girl. I wanted you to like me for me…” She looks gorgeous even with that worried frown on her face, or perhaps even more so because of it.

  It makes no sense to me-she is worried I wouldn’t like her? That she’d be a stand in for Julie? It’s laughable. I just don’t know what to say. None of this makes any sense. But the longer I stay quiet, the worse she’ll feel. I should reach out, make her understand that she has never been the problem.

  I hold my breath again and force my hand forward, running my fingertips over her cheek, before putting my other hand on her shoulder. The moment I pull her towards me ever so slightly, she falls into my arms as though that’s where she’s wanted to be all along.

  How did I do this? She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, way out of my league in every way. And she’s hiding her face in my chest, when all I’ve ever done was be grumpy and horrible to her. I yelled at her last night, for what? For being nice to me, for flirting? What a moron I am.

  “I’m sorry,” I say finally, “I’ve been such a moody git all along. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

  I hold her tighter, pressing my face into her soft hair. Her scent is intoxicating. She feels so small in my embrace, so fragile. She has let her defences down in front of me and it’s obvious that this isn’t just an act. And anyway, why would it be when there is no audience? It’s only the two of us.

  “Sure, I’ve been upset over Julie, but things changed the moment you walked into the office on your first day. I could hardly bear sitting next to you, I thought if I ignored you, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much that I couldn’t have you.”

  She pulls back and looks at me, her eyelashes sticky with the remnants of tears as she blinks a few times.

  “Well, you have me now,” she says. A smile appears on her lips. She looks like an angel when she smiles.

  “Are you hungry?” And smart as well.

  “I guess, but you don’t need to make a fuss…” I get up, looking for the bathroom. Luckily there aren’t many doors to choose from and the first I try happens to be the correct one.

  I take one look at myself in the mirror and the same feeling of shock from before hits me again. I look and smell horrible; like I’ve been bathing in alcohol. Ugh, and I’ve just had my dream girl pressed into my chest, without her showing the slightest hint of disgust. In fact it would seem she rather enjoyed it. Maybe she has a cold and her sense of smell is impaired.

  I feel surprisingly OK after last night though. Not a hint of one of those terrible hangovers I’ve been having at work lately. The cold water feels so refreshing.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “Fresh towels are in the cupboard if you need them… and you’re welcome to use the bathrobe hanging on the door.”

  OK, so she agrees I could really use a shower. Awkward.

  VIII.

  I stretch a few times on the way to the kitchen, feeling quite pleased with myself indeed. He’s just there, in the bathroom. I can hear the shower. He likes me! I can’t believe it. This is going much better than I had hoped for.

  I know I told him I didn’t want to be with him while he’s on the rebound. But I was lying, mainly to myself. I would’ve happily taken any chance of being with him at all. I’m a slave to my emotions generally, but somehow even more so with him. I was desperate. Maybe because it’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy? No, that can’t be it. There was just something special about John. I don’t just have a crush on him. I have fallen in love.

  I wonder what he likes for breakfast. I’ve never seen him eat any at the office. But who doesn’t like bacon and eggs? Quickly I clear the dirty dishes off the small breakfast bar-the only thing even resembling a dining table which could fit into this place. I hope he hasn’t noticed the mess. At least I remembered to tidy the bathroom when I went in just before him.

  While the bacon is sizzling away, I go into the bedroom, rummaging through drawers that haven’t been opened in ages. I’m sure I’ve still got some of Greg’s old stuff in here somewhere, things he didn’t bother taking with him when he left. I wonder if it would make John uncomfortable to wear my ex’s old clothes? But then he didn’t exactly bring an overnight bag… I find some sweats and a t-shirt. They should fit, hopefully. After all, Greg was quite a big guy as well, but that is where the resemblance to John ends.

  “Wow, that smells great,” John says. He looks so tempting, wearing the old and hugely oversized dark blue bathrobe that I used to use when dyeing my hair, before hopes of a corporate life made me give up the purples and blues I enjoyed so much. I’m just plating up the food but am severely distracted imagining what’s underneath that robe.

  “Oh it’s nothing fancy,” I say as I turn back to face the counter again. “Tea or coffee?”

  “Tea please,” John says.

  “I’ve found some clothes – see if they fit. I figured you might want to wear something clean after that shower…” I say while busying myself with the tea a bit more than perhaps is necessary. But the more I look at him in the bathrobe, the more I can feel my nipples poking through my t-shirt and a fuzzy, warm sensation building up in my lower abdomen.

  It took a lot of effort for me to be decent last night. I felt his warm breath against my lips, its rhythm building up faster and faster, his tongue feverishly seeking out mine. He wanted me then. But I had to be sure that he really wanted me and wasn’t just feeling horny generally. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t make that mistake again, giving myself to a guy too soon and ending up hurt in the process. And plus, even if I had been sure of his intentions, I wanted him to remember every second of it.

  As soon as I put the tea on the bar, where the food is already waiting, John comes back in wearing the clothes I found. If anything, they’re slightly loose on him but not by much. He looks delicious even so. I can’t take my eyes off him, checking him out from head to toe. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a total nympho.

  We sit down at opposite ends of the bar. He seems a bit stiff, awkward.

  “So whose are these then? They seem a bit, umm, big for you…” he asks.

  “Oh, my ex left them behind.” I say, before taking a big bite of toast.

  “Ah. Right.”

  We eat quietly, every so often sneaking a look at each other. The food seems to be doing him good; he is starting to look more alert with every bite. But his eyes are tensing up more and more also, as though something is bothering him.

  “More?” I ask, as soon as he’s emptied his plate.

  “No, that’s OK. Thanks.” His eyes wander around the room, over the empty plates and back at me.

  “I guess I should head home,” he says, but his tone suggests it’s more of a question than a statement.

  “If you want to…” Please don’t go… “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

  “Not really…” he answers.

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay if you like. I haven’t got anything on either. I was just going to watch some films that I recorded earlier. Or whatever you’d like to do…”

  “Sure,” he says, sounding relieved. His expression has relaxed again and his eyes m
eet mine. We just stare, and it feels like forever. I wonder if he can feel the same fluttering in his chest that I feel. The same ticklish sensation in his stomach, the magnetism between us, how my hands are just drawn towards him. Of course that’s why I’ve been extra touchy-feelie for weeks. I don’t do casual friendly gestures, little touches while walking by. I don’t even hug my friends. But I’ve been fighting the urge every day to throw myself at him. Why am I still fighting? I remind myself; he seemed willing enough earlier!

  I slip off the bar stool, taking a step in his direction. His eyes have widened, and breaths sped up again. He swallows hard. What a sweetheart-so nervous, just like me.

  But we can’t both be shy, I tell myself.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this again so badly,” I breathe, my lips almost touching his, but I hold back. I need reassurance.

  “Oh please,” he whispers back at me.

  He smells of my soap mixed with clean laundry and bacon. And still this unmistakable scent holding it all together – his scent. I can’t hold back any longer. I take his hands and place them on my waist. I slide my hands up over his arms and around his neck and pull myself close to him. His lips are as soft as I remember from last night. Just perfect. It feels like an electric shock, and the tension that had built up between us is somewhat released, we’re free now.

  As we kiss deeply and passionately, his strong arms tighten around me once more. He gets off his stool as well, bending down to allow me better reach. He may have started off shy, but his kisses are determined. I can feel his need for me in his movements. His hands explore the contours of my back, fingertips gently massage my shoulder blades through my thin t-shirt. I slip my hands and around his waist as well, tugging at him to hold me tighter. He grabs me around the small of my waist, and lifts me up and onto the bar stool. At last my face is exactly at his level. I put my arms around his neck again, running my fingers through his damp hair. My legs open to allow him closer against me.

  “You’re amazing,” I gasp at him. One of my hands slips down the back of his t-shirt caressing his smooth, soft skin, while the other remains in his hair, playing and tugging softly.