by Tasha Blue
“Thank you,” was all she could say. She couldn’t make herself look in his eyes anymore, afraid that they would betray the attraction she so delicately hid.
It was with relief when she noticed their waiter had arrived with the wine, distracting her. He set two glasses before them, a towel in one hand, and proceeded to pour. Twisting the bottle after each glass so as not to spill the red liquid on the table, he inquired. “Would you two like some more time to decide?”
Both Amber and Charles nodded at the same time, dismissing the waiter for another few minutes.
Charles took a sip of wine, letting the flavor settle in his mouth before washing it down. The warmth hugged his throat satisfyingly. “Let me see,” he contemplated aloud, as if deep in thought. “I believe it was back in 2001 that I met Lieutenant Williams.” His aura redirected itself to a more somber approach. “We were both pretty much boys then, fresh out of high school and looking for something more to do with our lives. Upon joining the Marine Core, we were shipped out to basic, and that’s where I met Williams.” He combed his fingers through his neat hair.
“After the terrorist attack, Operation Iraqi Freedom commenced, and we were both shipped out together. I don’t know how he did it, but our platoon was out patrolling one night when he sensed something off about the area. None of us felt it, but he refused to budge as the rest of our platoon continued on. He grabbed hold of me and kept me back saying he had really bad feelings.” His eyes darkened and his voice faltered.
“Our commanding officer was threatening us if we didn’t follow orders … so I finally told him he was crazy and kept going. If he hadn’t held me back for that single minute, we would’ve been dead.” His tone dropped before continuing. “I was thrown back from the blast when one of our men stepped on a land mine. They were everywhere. Three soldiers died that night, five were injured including myself, and Williams stayed with me plugging the artery in my leg so I wouldn’t bleed out.”
“Oh,” She soberly remarked. Memories of Russell flooded her brain and the thought of how tragic it was to lose someone so remarkable drove out any other feelings from her. She waited, unable to find the right words. Eventually, she said, “So, he saved your life.”
“Yes,” Charles confirmed. “And I feel I owe him something in return. I want to see to it that his family is well taken care of.”
“Wow, really,” she gasped, half surprised as reality came rushing back. “I’m sure Sasha can manage…” Her voice trailed as the memory of her crying friend reiterated in her mind. “What she needs is emotional support.”
He agreed and nodded his head. “Which will come from you,” he understood now the depth of their relationship. “But I want to help any way I can.”
The waiter arrived once more to take their orders. Charles ordered first, his palate clearly aimed for the Le Gigot d'Agneau Pascal. The tender lamb was highly esteemed in this particular restaurant.
When the waiter turned to Amber, she fumbled with the menu momentarily, and then gave up. “I can’t read this,” she sighed. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”
Charles chuckled under his breath, clearly amused. “Do you like lamb?” He hesitated before dismissing the waiter.
She loved lamb. Enthusiastically, she nodded to the waiter, happy that it wasn’t something weird like snails. She knew in France they ate those slimy little crawly things. It wasn’t in her best interest to embarrass herself in front of him because she couldn’t down them.
“You haven’t touched your wine.” He tapped the full glass before her. “I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Uneasiness settled over her when she debated sipping from that sweet scarlet pool. She was an extreme lightweight. What if she drank too much? It wasn’t as if she drank often. But it sat there before her enticingly. What did she have to lose? This handsome rich ex-soldier was encouraging her to indulge in some wine.
Sasha’s voice echoed in her head. Do something crazy for once. Geez Amber. Live a little. Go have a good time. That was the problem. Amber never managed to do anything out of the ordinary. Her life lacked flair and adventure. Perhaps now was the time to let go. In all her twenty-seven years of age, she had never simply gone with moment. Everything was preplanned the way she wanted things to go.
Time for a change, she resolved, envisioning the hunk of a man before her in a new light. Reaching forward confidently, she downed the glass of wine before her quite rapidly.
He merely stared at her out of shock, almost laughing to himself at her boldness. “Do you want more,” he offered, holding out the bottle to pour her a new glass.
“Please,” she held out her glass, “I want more.” And when she said more, the wine wasn’t what she was talking about. She wanted him, just a taste of him. But it wasn’t going to happen sober.
Chapter2
Amber stood in front of her apartment and stared at the sexy male before her. God, he was too much: from his powerful stance, to the extraordinarily erotic way he talked. His biceps bulged beneath his brand name black polo making her body burn with an irresistible need. How she wished she could just have a piece of that ass.
Apparently, the buzz she was going for in the restaurant had kicked in perfectly. Her voice slurred just a little as she invited him inside. “Would you like to come in?” She asked rather surely. It felt great not caring about anything. “I could make you some tea.” She mused, remembering how he told her he was from Britain. It made for a good excuse.
Charles had so kindly driven her home in his fancy sports car. The ride was incredible, especially high off the red wine from only half an hour ago. But he was a crazy driver, shifting gears like it was nobody’s business. The only problem was…he was sober. This put a damper on things.
He hesitated. “You’re not drunk are you?” He questioned her sincerely, studying her long and hard.
She shook her head. That she wasn’t. “I’m just very buzzed.” She grinned, giggling a little. “I promise I’ll remember everything.”
He frowned. “I don’t know if I should.” He scratched his head.
She laughed then, clearly not giving a shit about any of that. “I think that is my decision to make whether I’m comfortable letting you inside or not.” She teased, fumbling in her purse for the key to her place.
Her apartment stood up a few floors in the building. It was rather calm. Most everyone kept to themselves, except for the crazy lady across the hall who liked to complain about every little thing. She had the paramedics over three times that year because she felt faint. It was all a show. All the tenants knew she was old and wanted attention.
He gave in. “Fine,” he accepted graciously. “I’ll take that cup of tea.”
Her insides did a little victory dance as her fingers landed on the key in the abyss of her purse. She shoved them in the lock and stepped inside. Charles promptly followed her inside.
The scent of warm vanilla and cookies wafted the quaint little apartment. It was her favorite smell. A small hallway made its way over to the tiny kitchen, which in turn faced the cozy living room. Everything was neat in its place, from the floral plates to the antique cookie jar near the stove.
“Have a seat.” Amber gestured to the fluffy couch overflowing with pillows. She hurriedly began busying herself in the kitchen.
“Do you paint?” Charles wondered aloud, striding over to the easel that faced closed green curtains. His hand stroked the otherwise smooth jawline, knitting his brows fervently.
She smiled. “I dabble,” Then she giggled at the word she so often liked to use. “Why?”
“Wow,” his fingers traced the neat lines of something she had begun to work on. “This is exquisite.” The way she was able to capture each line of detail betrayed a hidden passion on the small canvas.
There were grey waters that seemed to roil against a ship lost at sea. Atop a grey barren rock sat a mermaid, her hands longingly outstretched towards a world she may never know. Rain pattered against her face and blew he
r hair wilder than the sea itself. She was bare and naked, with luscious breasts embellishing angelic white skin. A picture could say more than a thousand words it seemed.
Amber set the kettle on the stove and pulled out two mugs, laying a tea bag in each before walking over to him. “I see you found my masterpiece.” Her heart leapt as he turned around unexpectedly, his face so close to hers.
A deep yearning took hold of his gorgeous eyes, suggesting a desire so profound it shocked her to look into them. “It’s breathtaking,” he exclaimed, a sudden fire mirroring his gaze. “To meet someone with such a passion is like a breath of fresh air.” He admitted, his tone turning feverish.
He was exactly where she wanted him, deep within her clutches. It wouldn’t be too difficult to drag him down with her into that burning rapture. She knew it was lustful infatuation, but the feeling seized her beyond return.
“Is Charles a fan of art as well?” She licked her lips seductively.
He breathed deeply and backed away, walking over to plush couch. Clearly, he was hanging on to that last shred of control for as long as he could. His attraction to her now was quite obvious.
“You should see my small gallery.” He suggested. “Maybe I’ll take you sometime and let you tell me what you think.”
Her face lit up at the prospects. If there was one thing that grasped her heart above all else, it was art. Why was he so seemingly perfect? The whistling kettle reached her ears and she jumped, rushed over and grabbed it off the stove. Pouring it into the waiting cups, she carefully balanced their fullness out to the coasters just placed down on the small coffee table.
His hand took a hold of hers, carefully sliding down to the hot steaming cup. “Let me help you Miss,” he insisted, taking hold of the warmth, and leaving tingling trails from his touch. “Wouldn’t want to burn those delicate hands of yours.” His voice slurred erotically.
The air grew hot and unbearable. His touch still lingered on her hand, his skin smooth and enticing. Oh God, how she wanted him to stroke her again, even just a little. The consuming desire she felt inside began to crumble away any ounce of control within her body. She needed a release from the torture, which set her soul aflame.
When she set her cup down, he shifted closer to her, setting his down besides hers. Then he brazenly reached out and stroked her cheek, bidding her to face closer to him. His scent enveloped her body, holding her captive to his wishes.
She heard him speak now, but it felt surreal. “Tonight,” He nudged her even closer until his breath gently glided across her dark succulent lips. “I see a thing of beauty before me, but if I stay any longer, I will lose the last bit of control I have left.” He shook his head, and then backed away. “I have to go.” He apologized, breathing deeply to cool his heated blood. “You are worth more to me in the little time I’ve known you than a mere one night stand.”
He stood up, leaving her speechless with a sinking disappointment. Then he turned around, and lifted her to a stand. Caressing her in his arms, he held her close to him, their pounding hearts almost hitting one another. She gasped surprised, holding her breath and wishing he wouldn’t stop. His large arms enveloped her tiny frame, making her feel small and insignificant in their grasp. Upon releasing her, he placed a small kiss upon her cheek. It was light and sweet…and perfect. She blushed.
“It was a pleasure meeting you Ms. Amber.” He so politely said while stepped back. Then digging into his pockets he produced a business card with his telephone number. “For later, when I ask you out on a real date.”
Staring at the card, she examined the gold lettering of his name. “Nice meeting you, too. Thank you for everything.” She beamed, hiding the pool of welling disappointment. “I’ll tell Sasha everything but I’m sure she will refuse the offer.”
“And I don’t take no for an answer.” He turned around and walked down the hall, opened the door and disappeared.
Silence engulfed the little apartment as Amber took in the day. He hadn’t touched his tea but that wasn’t the intention. Taking her phone from her pocket, she sifted through her messages. There were none from her friend, which worried her. Was she okay? Of course she wasn’t. Picking up her purse, she too headed out the door, locking the place behind her. She couldn’t stand leaving her friend alone any longer. Whether she had to fight her or not, she was going to be there for her. That’s what friends did, especially best friends.
Days went by with very little sleep at night for Amber. Most of the time, she spent her nights at Sasha’s house, keeping her from touching the mini bar. Sometimes she had to fight her physically, taking care as not to injure the precious unborn child in her stomach.
“Just one drink,” Sasha would sob uncontrollably. “I can’t bear this.” She would moan, rocking herself back and forth. It wasn’t long before Amber took matters into her own hands, dumping down every single bottle of liquor into the sink. Denial was over and anger was eminent in her friends anguished weeping. She liked to throw around colorful language, blaming the president for the war that killed her husband. “Fuck them all,” she would growl.
Amber constantly had to call out of work to be with her grieving friend. Fortunately, it wasn’t a major job, and there were plenty of opportunities for others. But it was still money that she needed. Then, on one particular Saturday evening, the day before the funeral, Amber rode the crowded bus all those miles in the pouring rain. She wore the Apron, plain brown T, and black pants from the coffee shop she worked at. Cold and soaking wet, she knocked on Sasha’s door. No answer came, which was highly unusual.
Trying the doorknob and discovering it being locked, she banged louder. Had she gone somewhere? Upon glancing behind her, she noticed her friend’s car still parked along the street. Something was wrong. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Yelling out her friend’s name, she knocked louder. “Sasha, open up!”
Receiving no answer again, Amber stood helplessly, fear gripping her stomach until she couldn’t think straight. Whipping out the phone from her jean pocket, she saw the little white card containing Charles’ number on it. It fell to the ground, spinning on its way down. Without thinking, she dialed the gold numbers into her phone, and then pressed call. It rang for a few seconds. Those few long unbearable seconds didn’t pass fast enough.
“Hello.” A deep male voice answered questioningly.
“Charles, it’s me, Amber,” she puffed out of breath. Sweat began to bead her forehead.
“Oh, hi.” He greeted pleasantly.
Rushing through formalities, she squeezed the phone hard, trying desperately not to crack her voice. “It’s Sasha,” she yelped helplessly. “She’s not answering her door and I’m afraid something’s wrong.”
“I’ll be right there! Just hang tight.” The phone went silent.
Painful minutes dragged by until she couldn’t stand it no longer. Bombarding Sasha’s phone, she kept dialing her. Perhaps she would answer and everything was okay. Maybe she was just napping. But the tiny voice in her head kept whispering until half-crazed with worry, she saw Charles come to a screeching halt. For a second, relief overwhelmed her. He rushed over, slamming his door rather hard, and then cringing. He saw the worry lines etched on her face, then came up and hugged her.
With only a second to relish in his touch, he pulled back, stroking her hair. “Are you okay?” His first and main concern was her, which she could tell right away.
She nodded. “I can’t get in.” she pointed at her door. “I’m afraid something bad has happened.” Her voice choked over as tears of worry threatened to cross their borders.
He walked over and tried the door. There was no budge. Turning to her concernedly he asked, “Does she have a spare key you know about?”
“Not that I know of,” Amber shook her head, sinking deeper and deeper into despair. “Can you get us in?”
He nodded. Whipping out his wallet, he fumbled through his millions of credit cards until he settled on one he didn’t care about. “I
don’t mind ruining this one.” He sighed, the platinum card shining in the waning sunshine. Dusk was about, and the sun’s rays were slipping beneath the horizon line quickly. He slipped his card into the side of the door, eyeballing the pedestrians around. No one was looking, or gave even gave a care. Muttering something under his breath about the neighborhoods in New York, he clicked the card and swung the door open.
They stepped inside to the darkened hall. There was no sign of disturbance in the tiny apartment.
“Sasha,” Amber shouted, hoping in the depths of her heart that her friend was merely taking a nap. “I’m here my love,” she stepped to glance into the living room.
Charles cocked his brow. “Your love.” He mouthed, a bit amused.
