by Nicky James
“I don’t know, Ash. That’s the truth. You want truth… I. Don’t. Know!”
“Do you like him?”
I rolled my eyes and tore a hand through my hair. “God you’re annoying. Yes. Maybe, okay? He… I don’t know… He seems genuine. Like he really wants to help me get out of there. I need out, Ash, you know how bad it’s been lately.”
Ash sat up again and pierced me with another hard glare.
“Yeah, really hard for you. The hot Italian guy comes for you every weekend. Now you are having dinner with him regularly and he claims he can help you get out. I’ve become chopped liver all of a sudden. You won’t even share a bed with me anymore. We’ve been sharing a bed for over a year.” He paused, but not long enough for me to jump in. “Aren’t you the one who told me to never trust a tick? They lie and will tell you anything you want to hear, remember? Did you forget your own damn advice? I told you I liked him and you said don’t trust him. You! The guy speaks swoony words to you with a sexy accent and suddenly you forget these ticks are all alike?”
I shifted on my feet and stared back into Ash’s irritation. I’d never told him what Remy had been doing each week. I feared he’d tell Ryan—since they’d chummed up recently—and word would get back to Donny. Also, although I’d shared my growing aversion to sex with him, he no longer believed it since he was certain I’d been enjoying myself for the past month with Remy.
“Nothing sexual has ever happened between us.”
He flinched and stared in disbelief, shaking his head like my words couldn’t process. His forehead screwed up and he didn’t speak for several minutes. I know he was looking for signs that I was bullshitting him, but he wouldn’t find any.
In the end, he snorted and laid back down again. “Yeah, right. Whatever.”
“It’s the truth. You can believe me or not, but I think he’s genuine… and I’m sorry.”
Ashton closed his eyes, shutting me out. I didn’t have time to play games with him and make him feel better. Remy would be there any minute and I’d barely made a dent in the surface mess of the apartment.
Jumping back into action, I scooped up the dirty dishes laying about and brought them to the overflowing sink. I didn’t have time to do dishes, so I’d just have to ensure he didn’t come too far into the apartment.
I dashed around the room and began shoving stuff under the bed to help it look tidier. There were thick layers of dust on the surfaces of everything that I’d never noticed before. I spun on the spot, hating just how awful and slobbish everything looked.
I should have told him I’d take the bus. Wait, I did. I should have insisted.
There was a knock on the door and my shoulders fell. The apartment was a far cry from clean, but it was too late.
“Come on in,” I called, heading to the bathroom to double check my hair. I’d been running around like a crazy-man and I knew it would need to be fixed.
As I fussed and added an extra spritz of hairspray, Remy entered. He wore dark jeans and a sweater vest—navy with a white dress shirt underneath. He always looked pristine. I bounced out of the bathroom and over to the door where my shoes were.
“Hi.” I shoved my feet inside and bent to lace them up as fast as I could so we didn’t need to linger. The last thing I wanted was him analysing my living space. “I’m ready.”
When I stood, his eyes roamed my body and a fleeting panic ran through me, wondering if I looked okay. I’d chosen a pair of wine-colored skinny jeans and paired them with a white cotton button up and matching scarf—probably the least slutty clothes I owned and about as put together as I could get.
“You look incredible,” he whispered, a soft smile curving his lips.
My insides warmed under his attention and I looked down at myself. “Thanks. I just…” I searched for what I wanted to say. Oh God, it was crazy, I did like him, Ashton was right. I’d worked hard to not come across so juvenile that time and the compliment made me buzz. “Thanks, so do you.”
He averted his eyes, breaking the growing tension between us. Dashing a look around the apartment, he greeted a disgruntled Ash.
“You cleaned.”
My heart raced. “Umm… a little. More tidied than cleaned.” Oh God I felt stupid. “I thought last time you were here, you looked frightened. Like you wanted to run home and have a hot shower to get the contaminants off you. I just thought I’d… Oh God, never mind.”
Shut up! Just shut up and stop talking.
Remy chuckled and shook his head, seeming amused by my rambling. “Shall we.” He motioned to the door.
I jumped at the escape and dragged him out the door with me.
When we got back to his apartment, I was surprised at how nervous I was. Even though I’d been there before and we’d agreed it wasn’t a date, same as the previous time, I still couldn’t settle.
“So, what are you throwing together for dinner tonight,” I asked as he removed his shoes and placed them perfectly aligned on the mat by the door.
I squared mine beside his and followed him into the kitchen.
“I thought we could make homemade pizza. Since I know it’s your favorite. Would you like to help me?”
“Homemade pizza? You’re shitting me. That’s awesome.” I leaned on the counter as he pulled items out of the fridge, including cheese, three different kinds, pepperoni, and a container which he informed me was homemade sauce—his mother’s special recipe.
“I didn’t know what you liked on your pizza so I have mushrooms, onions, garlic, peppers,” he searched through a wicker basket that sat in the corner of the counter, “and tomatoes.”
“I like everything. I’m not picky.”
“Perfect.” He drew a knife out of the block and found two cutting boards in a drawer below the counter. “Do you want to start chopping while I get the dough rolled out?”
I accepted the knife with a smile, amazed he was going to allow me to assist. “Yuppers.”
As Remy set to work rolling his homemade dough until it fit the pizza pan, I worked on slicing the vegetables. It was all so precise and organized. He’d set me up with two cutting boards; one for the pepperoni and the other for vegetables because—he reminded me—cross contamination was bad. I even got a lesson on mushrooms and why you wiped the dirt off them with a paper towel instead of rinsing them under water.
As I worked, I was hyper aware of everything that might constitute a mess. When even a silver of onion fell off the cutting board, I dashed a look at Remy before putting it back on. Knowing him, that onion was probably contaminated and needed to be thrown out, but he never said anything.
All the structure was exhausting and after a short while, I had a sudden urge to tear through his kitchen and make it into a disaster just so I could feel more at home. The thought of how he might react made me laugh quietly to myself. His definitive methods and rigidity were so extreme, it was a wonder he even let me in his apartment.
“What’s so funny?”
I grinned and shook my head. “Nothing.”
Remy smiled, keeping a watchful eye on me as he removed the lid off his sauce container. I couldn’t take it anymore. The urge to rattle his too perfect world overcame me. I put my knife down and pointed to the container he held.
“Wait. That sauce hasn’t been through inspection yet, has it?”
He quirked an eyebrow, question in his eyes, yet a smile broke across his face. “Inspection?”
I crossed the room and jumped up to sit on the counter beside where he worked. I knew it would make him crazy. He said nothing, only watched me with wonder as I removed the sauce container from his hands.
“Spoon,” I said with my hand out, waiting.
He paused and examined me, but without question, retrieved a spoon from the drawer and handed it to me. I dunked it in the sauce and stirred it around a bit, smelling and squinting at it. When I pulled it out again, I placed the container aside and held the spoon up to examine it.
“Hmm… Good consisten
cy; not too thick and not too runny. Nice color too. I’m glad to see there aren’t little bits of tomato peel everywhere, I don’t like that. They get stuck in your teeth, you know? The smell is out of this world.” I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply and dramatically before opening them again and smirking. “So far so good.”
He was amused and grinned wide as he watched, dark eyes gleaming with the same look he’d been giving me for weeks. It made my skin come alive.
“But, how does it taste?” I continued. I brought the spoon to my lips, not licking, but dabbing it on the end of my tongue. I let the small taste roll around my mouth as I pretended to think long and hard about how I felt.
Remy watched intently from less than a foot away. His jaw tightened and he couldn’t pull his gaze from my mouth. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed. I enjoyed the attention and played it up by licking my lips with a trailing tongue.
He sucked in a breath and stepped forward before stopping himself. “You make it very difficult to behave and maintain boundaries. I almost think you are asking for trouble.”
His dark gaze found mine, his breathing deep and labored as he’d watched me. He couldn’t hide the way he felt but his self-control was solid and he held his ground, no longer advancing.
Remy sparked a new desire in me. One I hadn’t felt in a long time… maybe ever. All the men who’d come in and out of my life tended to focus on one thing. Remy was different, no matter what Ash thought. The more I was around him, the more I wanted to explore how he made me feel.
Without thinking, I kicked my feet out and hooked my legs around his waist, drawing him toward me. My heart pounded, knowing I was breaking every rule I’d carefully implemented over the past few years. Our non-date was about to move into date territory. Everything Ashton had accused me of earlier, was turning out to be true. I liked Remy, a lot, and my mind and body were curious and wanted more.
When I drew him to me, his hands automatically came to rest on my thighs. He gripped me lightly as though tentative of crossing lines.
The spoon.
I needed to get rid of the spoon.
I dropped it on the counter beside me and slid it away, leaving a smear of red sauce behind. Remy’s gaze shifted to the spoon and I saw him about to react. No you don’t. I brought my hands to his clean-shaven face, pulling his attention back. “Resist the urge to clean it up for five seconds. Can you do that?”
His eyes found mine, returned briefly to the trail of sauce on the counter, before focusing entirely and intently on my face again. Heat and desire rose to the surface of his dark eyes and he leaned in closer before thinking better of it and pulling back, fighting his own battle of wills. He wouldn’t cross lines unless I allowed it, and for that, I respected him.
His gaze fell to my lips and he licked his own reflexively. “Soren, I have a lot of self-restraint but—”
“Kiss me,” I breathed.
My heart was ready to go through the wall of my chest when the words left my lips, surprising even me. I was on fire and didn’t realize how badly I’d wanted it until that moment.
My words hung in the air. Remy took a fraction of a second to ensure he’d heard me right, then his hands on my thighs came up to my face and he pulled me in.
I’d been kissed plenty in my life, but in the past two years I’d cut all men off. It was my limit. The one element of control I’d maintained and there I was breaking my rule.
Every hair on my body rose when we connected. He commanded the kiss. Owned and took control of all my senses. He pressed his soft lips firmly to mine in a way that left me breathless and trembling. They were warm and sweet tasting, invigorating. I craved more.
I squeezed my legs tighter around his waist, not allowing the moment to end until I was ready, and parted my lips, inviting him to deepen it. His tongue teased and toyed at my mouth, teeth nipping and tasting. Every time I went to move closer, to take more, he held me back and left me on the edge, quivering and panting, dying for that first true taste. All I could do was relinquish control and absorb in the all-consuming feelings surrounding me.
Then, his tongue met mine.
They played together until meeting completely, softly brushing against one another, dancing around and learning each other’s mouths until they fell in sync. I took all he would give and kissed him back with everything I had. His passion was pure and seeped out of him into me and it hummed through every part of my body.
It was as though an electric current ran over my skin. I came alive and buzzed with every shared moment that passed. It went on for a long time, pizza forgotten, before Remy slowed it down and eventually we parted.
Our foreheads remained close, both of us breathing erratically before he spoke, somewhat breathlessly. “I can’t decide what’s making me more crazy, you sitting on my counter or that damn spoon.”
I gripped onto his sweater with two fists and dropped my head on his shoulder laughing. Of all the shit he focused on. Then, I shoved him away from me, shaking my head. “You’re a freak. We’re kissing and all you can think about is a splash of sauce on your countertop.”
Remy laughed with me, but caught my arm when I went to playfully shove him again. He took hold of my waist and wrapped two arms around me before lifting me from the counter. I instinctively held tight, re-wrapping my legs around him and balancing so I wouldn’t fall.
He carried me through the swinging door to the living room, smirking the entire time.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Out of my kitchen. You are officially a distraction.”
“You like it.”
He chuckled and tossed me down on the couch. “Very much, but we’ll never eat at this rate and,” he paused and his lighthearted humor strained, “before things move in that direction, I think we need to talk.”
The implications of that pending conversation hung in the air as he retreated into the kitchen. I blew out a breath and sunk deeper into his couch. Since I was banned from the kitchen, I looked around at his too perfect apartment.
We were on opposite ends of the spectrum him and I, and it made me wonder why he hadn’t hightailed it and ran. Looking from the DVD’s, perfectly aligned in a cabinet, to the hanging fern, whose branches were precisely pruned, I was in awe. Not a single leaf littered the ground. How was that even possible?
I stood from the couch and walked to the cabinet. There were a few framed photographs, candles in holders which had never been lit, and an array of artsy pieces made of ceramic or something like that. I lifted a candle, wondering if even the slightest ring of dust would be noticeable where it sat. Nothing. Remy was too much.
Because it amused me to rile him up—and because I wondered how quickly it would take him to notice—I began rearranging the knickknacks on the shelf. Not so that it was too obvious but a few inches here and there and switching things around.
When finished, I smirked and checked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Remy was still busy, so I decided to explore his showroom apartment.
A hallway led down toward another end and to where I assumed I would find a bedroom and bathroom. The first door I encountered was closed, and I hesitated, wanting to snoop but also not wanting to invade privacy. A closed door to me requested people stay out, so I continued farther down the hall where two more doors stood open.
The next was a bathroom and when I flicked the light on, I almost laughed.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Where as my bathroom at home had toothpaste caked to the basin of the sink, speckles of who knows what covering the mirror and a toilet that made public restrooms look immaculate, Remy’s bathroom was spotless. There were no watermarks on his shower curtain, no hairs lining the stall, and every bottle of shampoo and body wash look fresh off the shelf from the store with no drips running down their sides. It even smelled nice, like mocha or latte or something sweet. Porcelain gleamed, tiles shined, and every towel hung square.
Shaking my head, I flicked off t
he switch and turned to the other open door opposite the bathroom. It was dark inside, but after checking down the hall to ensure I was alone, I turned on the light from a switch on the wall and entered.
It was his bedroom.
Plush, wall to wall cream-colored carpet spanned the large space. A queen-sized bed sat square in the room with a navy and gold, silk duvet, perfectly smoothed over its top, utterly wrinkle-free. Two dressers, polished and symmetrically placed so they balanced the furniture, flanked either side. A leather lounge chair was nestled in one corner by a bookshelf whose books had been arranged from tallest to shortest. More plants covered a small table by the window, pruned and flawless. Not a single item was out of place. No clothes littered the floor. No dust. Nothing.
How could anyone live in a room like that?
I walked in and turned circles as I looked around. It was too much. My impulse to just mess everything up was so strong, I laughed out loud.
“Go ahead. Say it. It will not be anything I haven’t heard before.”
Startling, I swung around to face Remy who leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t look upset to find me there, in fact he was smiling.
“You know this isn’t normal, right?” I said, circling a finger to encompass the room.
He chuckled and scanned his own bedroom. “I’m aware. I’m working on it.”
I cocked an eyebrow and dashed a look to his picture-perfect bed. “Do you even sleep in that bed?” I edged my way toward it, a smirk growing on my face.
“Every night.” He studied me cautiously. “What are you doing?”
I pinched a small piece of duvet between fingers and slowly gathered more fabric into my hand until I’d accumulated a fistful. I watched him intently, mischief brewing.
“Soren,” he warned.
Then I yanked it.
Hard.
And brought half of the covers to the floor. I gapped dramatically as his eyes widened, and held a hand to my mouth in feigned surprise.
“Oh, oh! I wrecked your bed. Now what?”
The amusement never left his face. His gaze shot from the duvet, sprawled out on the floor, to me. In two strides, he crossed the room and I squeaked, jumping onto the bed as I tried to get away from him. He snagged me by the ankle and pulled me back, as I yelped and squirmed in his hold. But I was laughing so hard I couldn’t fight him off.
