He chuckled as he tucked my bangs behind my ear. His emerald green eyes sparkled mischievously. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
My words were hushed. I dreaded the direction in which this conversation was headed. Undoubtedly, he would turn an innocent admission of loneliness into an all-out appeal to move back home. That was exactly the last thing I wanted to hear tonight.
Partially as a stalling tactic, I reached up and kissed him. The second our lips met, the argument was forgotten. His fingers laced through my hair, hungrily drawing me into him. His hands trailed down my back, playing with the hem of my sweater. Slowly, he worked his way underneath the fabric. The feel of his skin against my bare abdomen made my breath hitch.
“Come on,” he demanded huskily, rising from the couch and extending his hand.
There was no need to question where. I offered my hand to him, and he pulled me up to my feet. Still holding hands, we walked down the hall to his bedroom. Once inside, my jeans found their way to the floor. My sweater followed suit shortly thereafter. Dressed only in my bra and underwear, I climbed up on his bed.
I turned around to face him, bent at the knees. Due to our height difference, this was just about the only way we came close to looking each other in the eye. He stood before me, fully clothed, his eyes taking me in as if it was the first time he had ever seen me. A trace of emotion flickered over his features, gone too quickly for me to recognize. Love? Guilt? I couldn’t be sure.
His kisses were deep and insistent at this point. I grabbed his polo shirt, bunching the cotton in my fists as I drug him to me. He hardened noticeably against my legs. I pulled his shirt up over his head, our lips breaking contact for just the briefest of moments. The garment fell to the hardwood floor.
Eric pushed gently on my shoulders, lowering me to the mattress. I laid on my back, staring up at him as he crawled on top of me. Although he wasn’t underwear model perfect, he was still attractive. His frame was more lanky than muscular; his features not chiseled, but nevertheless pleasing to the eye. Best of all, he was mine.
Suddenly, nothing mattered except for us being here together, right here, right now. Our bodies moved in unison, anticipating each other’s touch. I lost myself in his embrace, not thinking about our differences in opinion. As much as we fought, as often as we disagreed, I couldn’t deny that our chemistry was explosive.
Maybe the reason for our urgency laid in the fact that I could count on one hand how many times we had been in the same place in the past three months. The number of those times we had actually been intimate was even less. Granted, that time had been filled with many heated discussions about my promotion and impending move. Still, we had managed to overcome all of that and continue on as though nothing had happened. Our relationship, when going well, was like a favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable, dependable, maybe with a few frayed edges but never something I could throw away.
Afterwards, I lingered in bed beside him, savoring his closeness. His arm was wrapped around me. My head rested against his shoulder; my arm draped possessively across his chest. I could feel his heart beating under my palm. Its frantic pace had slowed to a calm, even rhythm. His breathing was leisurely and deep, almost on the verge of sleep. I raised my head to take a look at him. Sure enough, his eyes were closed, his lips set in a small, self-assured smile.
I wondered what he was thinking about. I could break the silence and ask him, but I chose not to. I didn’t want to interrupt that blurry moment between consciousness and sleep, where one could influence their dreams. Whatever he was considering looked pleasant, peaceful. I hoped that he was contemplating how good it felt to be together, safe in the arms of the one that you loved.
I hoped he would dream about me.
I settled back down beside him, eyes wide open. The lights of downtown Indianapolis shone through his picture window, casting shadows over his bedroom. For many people, the night was just getting started. I imagined being amongst the crowds getting ready to go out for a night on the town, stumbling along the sidewalk in platform heels that screamed my availability and willingness to go home with someone new. That life had never appealed to me. Besides, here I was, curled up in bed at ten on a Friday night with the only man I had ever been with. We were the picture of domestic bliss, at least for this moment.
Within minutes, the long drive coupled with the endless workday caught up with me. My eyelids became heavy and I too succumbed to sleep.
My dream began much like the one I had wanted for Eric. My visions were hazy, the images abstract. The one thing that was clear was that I was overwhelmed with happiness. It appeared that I was standing in an open field, sunshine and flowers the only things around for miles. I was spinning, spinning, and I could hear my own laughter. Instead of getting dizzy, I found myself only wanting more.
I wasn’t alone. Of course Eric was with me. Though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was holding my hand. I could feel his love surrounding me. It was like I could read his mind; I could hear all the words he wanted to say to me but was afraid to. They echoed in my head in my own voice, as if they were written down and I was reading them to myself. How he had loved me ever since the day we met. How he had known we would end up together. How he knew that I was the one. How he wanted so badly for me to be his wife. How he would love me forever and always protect me. How he hated to see me upset. How he was so thankful that I could forgive him for everything he had done.
I melted, warmed by his words of endearment. Rays of sunlight shone down upon my bare shoulders, heating my arms as well. The spinning quickened. I giggled harder, amazed at the colors that flashed before my eyes. Blues, greens, pinks, purples streamed through my thoughts, mixing together in some type of tie-dyed collage that sounded putrid in theory but was unbelievably beautiful in my dreamy reality.
The spinning stopped abruptly. I realized I was falling, but I wasn’t scared. I drifted in the air like a feather, floating slowly down to my destination. I had landed on a soft pillowtop mattress, much like the one I had at Blake’s. In fact, it looked like I had made it back to my bedroom. I recognized my comforter draped over my legs.
It was like I was hovering above myself, having some sort of an out-of-body experience. I could picture myself completely naked in my own bed, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs that didn’t belong to me. Instead of being afraid, I was totally at peace, knowing I was where I belonged. Again, I felt nothing but warmth and happiness, complete and utter contentment. From my viewpoint, I couldn’t make out Eric’s face. I watched as I ran one hand down his muscular chest, tracing his washboard abs with my fingers. My other hand clutched a fistful of his messy blond hair.
Shit.
My eyes flew open. The darkness of Eric’s bedroom greeted me. His drunken arm was slung over me, nothing more than dead weight at this point. I wiggled out from underneath and sat up in bed, cradling my head in both hands. Beside me, Eric muttered something incoherent then rolled over and began snoring again. I gasped for air as quietly as possible. My heart raced uncontrollably. I sat for several moments, rocking myself gently until I felt able to get up and retreat to the bathroom.
I closed the door softly behind me, turning the lock with trembling fingers. The bright lights above the vanity made me squint. I stumbled over to the toilet, closed the lid and perched on top. I attempted to calm myself by looking around the large master bath, trying to find an imperfection or a trace that anyone had actually ever used it. Everything shined like brand new. The fixtures gleamed courtesy of the housekeeper I knew Eric employed. Not a spot on the mirror, not a trace of hair on the floor, no toothpaste residue in either of the double sinks. No wet towels hung from the shower door or were draped over the side of the jetted tub.
My game didn’t help. My breath still came in ragged bursts. My pulse still pounded frantically in my veins. Alone in this cavernous space, my walls were closing in on me. Frustrated, I jumped up from the stool and made my way to the sink. I stared at my reflec
tion in the spotless mirror, contemplating what I saw. I didn’t have to look twice to see how distraught I was.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t dream about Matthew when I was in Eric’s bed. Why had that even happened? Where had that come from? And whose words had my subconscious read aloud? Were those the feelings I wanted Eric to admit or were they the sentiments I wished Matthew would express?
I needed to think about this rationally. Of course I had seen Matthew without his shirt on. More often than I cared to admit, our dinners together ended up with a dip in the hot tub. There was nothing wrong with finding him attractive. So ultimately, in my dream induced vision, I had superimposed his body in place of Eric’s more forgettable frame. I was just imagining my dream Eric, right?
This led me to the hair. Eric’s was much too short to run my fingers through, let alone grab. But why wasn’t the hair in my dream dark like his?
Because it was Matthew I was dreaming about. Undoubtedly so. I was positive, even though I hadn’t seen his face. Any other explanation was futile. There was no way the man in my dreams was the man lying asleep on the other side of the door.
I was romanticizing the night that Matthew had spent consoling me. The night that he had told me that I was beautiful. The night I fell asleep in his arms. All nothing more than friendly gestures on his part. I was reading way too much into them. He had never professed his love for me. He had never given me any indication that he cared about me in anything but a platonic way. He seemed like the perfect catch because we didn’t have a relationship. Friends, especially those who hadn’t known each other for long, could hide their faults from one another.
I wasn’t about to consider why we had both obviously been naked.
I methodically washed my face, taking as long as I possibly could to complete the task. I dried my skin with a fluffy white towel from the linen closet. I considered wadding it up on the counter or throwing it on the floor as an experiment to see if it disappeared the next day. Chickening out, I disposed of it in the hamper that stood guard in the corner of the room. I felt no guilt at leaving the cotton streaked with traces of my black eyeliner and mascara. No doubt that Eric wouldn’t be attending to the laundry.
I knew I couldn’t hide out in the bathroom forever. At some point in time, Eric would roll over and realize I wasn’t there. Sure, I could fake needing to use the facilities, or having to wash off my makeup, but there was no way to excuse being curled up in the fetal position on his travertine floor. Even if the tiles were heated. I had to pull myself together and forget this ever happened.
Reluctantly, I climbed back into bed. Again, Eric surfaced enough to acknowledge my presence. He rolled over to face me, wrapping his arms around me. He mumbled something that sounded like “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I lied, softly, “just had to use the bathroom.”
“Kay.”
I waited a couple beats, then added, “I love you.”
Whether it was to remind myself or because I felt guilty, I had no clue. Whatever the case, Eric’s only response was a snore.
Chapter Twelve
“Didn’t you sleep well? You still look exhausted,” Eric appraised the next morning.
We were seated at the small bistro table that allowed his kitchen to be considered one of the “eat-in” variety. The first pot of coffee was still brewing; some sort of a frozen breakfast casserole was heating in the oven. I had to give him credit for attempting to be domestic.
“It’s been awhile since you’ve seen me before I’ve had any caffeine,” I joked half-heartedly. “Plus I think I just haven’t come down off the adrenaline rush of being here yet. I just laid awake most of the night, staring at you.”
“How sweet,” he said as he reached across the table to take my chin in his hand, “I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing like drool.”
“Nope. You do snore, though.”
“No way. Maybe just because of the alcohol?”
“Nobody ever admits that they snore. And in the rare event that they do, there is always some excuse. Allergies, a cold, too many beers.”
“I suppose you don’t snore?”
“Never.”
He laughed. The sound was so welcome to my ears. I needed to push my guilt from last night deep down inside and enjoy the time we were spending together. I wasn’t about to let one stupid little dream ruin our weekend. Eric was in such good spirits it would be a waste to show him how troubled last night had left me.
“You know how we could resolve that whole adrenaline problem?”
“Eric,” I whined, “let’s not and say we did.”
“I’m just saying that the offer still stands.”
“I’m not going to quit my job now. I like it there.”
“You don’t have to quit. You can telecommute. It’s the wave of the future, right?”
“Banks are old-fashioned. Besides, if telecommuting was a viable option in their opinion, do you really think they would have made me move to get my promotion?”
“Did you ask?”
“Well, no. But out of the two of us, your position would be far more suitable for working from home. Half the time you aren’t even at your office. Maybe we could look for a place in Fort Wayne.”
He snorted. “Not an option. I need to be in Indy if I ever want to get noticed. People don’t get promoted if they are never around corporate.”
“So then we are right back where we started. At an impasse.”
The oven timer proved to be our saving grace. After it announced our breakfast was ready, Eric rose from the table. He busied himself removing the dish from the oven and dividing the contents out onto our plates. He then poured both of us cups of coffee from the now ready pot. When he returned to the table with our meal, all traces of animosity had disappeared.
“I hope you aren’t upset that I made plans for tonight,” he began simply.
I cut into the casserole and speared a piece with my fork. To my surprise, it wasn’t half bad. “No, I’m good with whatever you want to do.”
“Good. I thought I would make the other week up to you by taking you out to dinner at your favorite place.”
“I wish you would have mentioned it before I came. I didn’t bring anything even close to being suitable to wear there.”
“No worries,” he smiled, “we’ve got time for shopping. And I’m buying. On one condition.”
“Which is?” I asked, intrigued.
“That you pick something that matches this.”
Out of nowhere, he presented me with a small, black velvet box. I knew it was jewelry. By the way he slid it across the table, I knew it wasn’t the piece that I’d been hoping for. Still, the surprise inside excited me. I picked up the box, gently lifting the top. The hinge was fairly strong, and the lid threatened to snap back in place with my timid gesture. I decided to open it with a flourish instead.
Nestled in the satin lining was a pendant suspended from a delicate white gold chain. It was crafted in the shape of an old skeleton key. At the top of the ornate design was a heart shaped ruby. The rest of the key was accented with diamonds. As I held it up, the morning sun streaming through the windows bounced off of the stones, causing them to sparkle.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
Eric rose from the table to come stand at my side. He took the necklace from me and fastened it around my neck. When he bent down, the combination of his breath against my skin and his touch as he worked the clasp made me shiver.
“Something pretty for my pretty girl,” he whispered in my ear. He trailed kisses up the back of my neck, from shoulder to hairline.
If I wasn’t swooning already, I definitely was now. I watched him as he resumed his seat at the table. He lifted his fork and continued eating breakfast as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So it’s settled then. A search for a sexy red dress is on the agenda for today.”
I nearly choked on my forkful of casser
ole. If only he had come up to Fort Wayne the other week he would have seen my version of a sexy red dress. Instead, it hung in my closet as a reminder of a broken promise. Last touched by Matthew, who seemed to be invading my weekend without actually being here.
“Are you okay?” he asked, full of concern.
“Yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe. Silly me.”
Thankfully, he accepted my excuse and the rest of the meal proceeded without incident. We got ready for our outing after a quick pit stop in bed. He sat patiently while I showered and got ready, conversing with me while I occupied the vanity. He was obviously doing his best to make this the perfect day. For once, I appreciated his uncanny ability to close a sale.
Dinner reservations had been made for eight. This left us with plenty of time to search for the perfect outfit, shoes included, and return to the condo to get ready. Depending on how long the task at hand took to complete, we might be able to sneak in another round of intimacy. Seeing as how it had been quite a while since we had the opportunity, I planned to shop quickly.
Eric maneuvered his BMW through the streets of downtown Indianapolis expertly. Of course, since I was also a native, I had the same talent. However, Eric was always in control of things and always drove whenever we were together. I secretly thought this partially had something to do with the fact that he would be embarrassed to be seen in my Honda, but kept this to myself. Besides, it was nice to ride in luxury on occasion. I sunk into the buttery leather seat and enjoyed the ride.
Without asking, he drove straight to my favorite boutique. He pulled the car into an impossibly tight parking spot and we climbed out. As we met at the back of the car, he took my hand in his and drew me close.
For the next three hours, he was the dutiful boyfriend. He made no complaints as I tried on dress after dress, dragging him from store to store. When I earmarked something as a contender, I would step out of the dressing room. As I modeled for him, he would provide me with his appraisal. Nothing seemed to meet his standards. He was looking for perfection, and we hadn’t found it yet. In my mind, I kept picturing the red dress hanging in my closet at home. If only he had mentioned our dinner plans before I left Fort Wayne it would have saved us both a fair amount of grief.
Intoxicated Page 11
