“Thanks,” Sean says, sounding completely unfazed.
Yet again, footsteps notify me of our waiter’s retreat. How I didn’t hear him approaching the table goes to show how distracted I am when Sean is this close to me. When his hands are on me, nothing else around us exists.
“Oh my God, Sean, he totally just saw you cop a feel.”
“Then we should get a discount for providing a show.”
“If I could see, I’d hit you right now,” I deadpan.
His deep chuckle fills the dark space between us. “I know what to get you for your birthday.” His words are muffled, indicating he’s talking around a bite of food.
“What?” I ask.
“A blindfold.”
I’m pretty sure I’m red from head to toe right now. With no response on the tip of my tongue, I reach forward for some cheese they paired with the wine I ordered.
We fall into an easy conversation, my earlier embarrassment and lapse in judgment forgotten as our server brings out the rest of our food.
“Can I ask you something?” Sean asks after we start eating.
“You just did,” I reply sarcastically.
“Oh, someone is funny tonight,” he replies, mirth evident in his tone.
“Go ahead.” My own amusement coats my words.
“What made you hesitate?”
My eyebrows pull in. “Hesitate about what?”
“Me.”
One word is all he gives with no further explanation, not that one is needed. Without his watchful gaze, answering these types of questions is easier. Maybe hearing the answer is for him as well.
“Honestly, it was your pickup lines. I wasn’t lying when I said I thought you were a player, and the lines further perpetuated my belief. I figured it was just a game to get into my pants for you.”
“Do you think that now?” The normal humor in his voice is absent, leaving nothing but utter seriousness in its place.
The answer is easy, and for once I don’t second-guess myself. I don’t hide and lay down the truth in front of us. “No.”
“Good.”
There’s a small lull in conversation as we finish our meal, and I’m dying to know what he’s thinking. My small admission feels like a huge deal. With every truth I admit to not only myself, but to Sean, it’s like our relationship takes another turn toward something more serious. At first, I’m not sure how to feel about this, but if I take a second to calm the hell down, I realize I don’t hate it. In fact, I’m starting to get used to the idea.
“I just wanted to make you smile,” he says after a while. My silence must give way to slight confusion because he continues. “That’s why I’d say that stuff to you. It’s not because I thought they worked, but I thought they were so dumb it’d make you laugh and relax. You were always so serious around me and you can’t fault a guy for wanting to see a smile as pretty as yours.”
My arms fold over my chest. “Is that another line?” I ask, skepticism lacing my voice.
“No. It’s the truth. Paige, I’m just going to lay it all out for you, okay? I may not be the funniest guy there is, but I am honest. I’ll never lie to you. Ever. In the very beginning, you posed a challenge. You were different and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get you out of my head. It didn’t take me long to realize my attraction to you wasn’t about a challenge, it was about needing you in my life. I don’t intend to break your heart, but you forget your feelings aren’t the only ones on the line.”
His words aren’t hollow, but firm with conviction. I know without a doubt he’s not saying these things to butter me up, but because he wholeheartedly believes them. It helps me believe in us.
An audible sigh leaves his mouth. “I don’t know how else to convince you, but I’ve been falling for you since you snarled at me in disgust at that bar two and a half years ago.”
He’s rendered me speechless.
Falling for me?
But isn’t that what I’ve been doing too?
I raise my hand high in the air, and like promised, someone is at our table within seconds. “How can I help you?” an unfamiliar voice asks.
“Can we have our check, please?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What’s the rush?” Sean asks, but I can tell he knows exactly why I want out of here.
“Time for you to finish what you started before the appetizers interrupted us.”
“My pleasure,” he all but growls.
“Mine too.”
Sean
SHOPPING.
I hate it.
I avoid it at all costs and pay someone to pick shit out for me. Yet here I am, sitting in another store while Paige tries on another dress. Honestly, I don’t know why she keeps asking for my opinion since she has yet to take it. Every time I tell her how great she looks, her head moves from side to side as she bites the inside of her cheek and studies herself in the mirror. Then she retreats to the dressing room to try on another dress. But if this is what it takes to get her to come to my family’s dinner party with me, then I’ll suffer through another five stores if I have to.
“Do you think red is too bright? What does everyone normally wear to these things?” I sense the anxiety in her voice, especially since the party is two weeks away. After I picked her up this morning, she said she’d never been to a formal event like this. She didn’t comment further on it, but I could tell she was nervous and was looking for some guidance.
“The men are in penguin suits and the women wear whatever.”
“Well, that’s real specific.” She rolls her eyes.
“You’ll look gorgeous in anything. Pick something that makes you comfortable.” Honestly, she could wear a trash bag and put every other woman on this planet to shame. She doesn’t need the sparkly shit and makeup to bring out her beauty, she’s just naturally stunning.
And with my lack of direction, the girl helping us whisks her off and I’m left to my own devices. As I’ve done in the last two stores, I look for the designated seating for the other men who get dragged along. Fortunately, when you shop in nice places, the sofas are plush, making the hours you spend sitting on them bearable.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been here. Each minute blends into the next and she has yet to come out and show me anything. As I wait, my mind wanders, thinking about the progress we’ve made so far.
The instant I saw her at the bar is etched into my brain so clearly. She was talking to Scarlett and Charlotte and had the most gorgeous, carefree smile I’d ever seen. It’s what drew me in, but her laugh made me want to get to know her. Her smart mouth and nice ass were added bonuses, but I knew that night I’d give up my left leg if it was guaranteed I’d see that smile every day.
That moment, while significant to me, doesn’t hold a damn candle to what I’m seeing right now. Paige emerges from the dressing room as if she’s in slow motion, like in the movies. With eyes downcast as she gets closer, her bottom lip is held hostage between her teeth while a shy grin peeks around the edges.
She’s wearing a light pink gown that is painted on her breasts and waist before flowing out. I’m pretty sure I heard one of the girls helping her mention something about satin, but I’m not positive. Her delicate shoulders and collarbones are accentuated in the way the short sleeves fall off the shoulders. When she finally looks up at me, I’m a goner.
Breathing is normally an involuntary process the brain doesn’t have to think about, but that’s not the case in this moment. Because as I look at her, all the air leaves my body and basic functions cease to exist. She is the definition of beauty and by some miracle she’s mine.
“Wow,” is all I manage to say as I get up from my seat.
“Is it too much cleavage?” she asks, looking down at herself.
“Sweetheart, there’s no such thing.” I’m caught in a rough spot. I ache to touch her and pull her to me, but my eyes want to take all of her in for a little longer.
“This is my favorite part.” She s
pins around to reveal the back, which dips into a V. I adjust my stance to hide my hard-on in response.
“You look stunning.” My voice is tight with want and need.
“You like it?”
Stepping closer to her, my lips go to her ear. “I like it so much, I’m envisioning all the ways I can fuck you in it.”
I love watching goose bumps pop up on her skin. It lets me know she’s affected by me, and this is no exception.
“Would you like to try on any more dresses, or is this the one?” the woman asks.
I watch Paige’s throat work down a swallow before she replies. “No, this is the one.”
“Great! I’ll help you out of it and we’ll get you all checked out, okay?”
She nods before following her back to the dressing room, but not without looking over her shoulder and giving me a devious smirk first.
Me: Where do you learn to make ice cream?
Paige: Where?
Me: Sundae school.
Paige: You’re a dork.
Me: Bet you’re laughing.
Paige: Am not.
Me: Liar. What are you doing today?
Paige: Cleaning.
Me: Want help?
Paige: I’ll never turn down a man who offers to clean.
Me: Alright. See you in twenty.
After we got Paige’s dress for the event, I had to go home to work. I have several important meetings coming up, all of which my father will be present, so I need to be prepared. Too bad concentrating is near impossible with a certain hazel-eyed beauty running through my mind. I thought today would be a fresh start and I’d actually get some stuff done, but I was wrong.
As promised, twenty minutes later I’m knocking on her door, waiting to see her gorgeous face.
“Hey, that was quick,” she greets.
Without responding, I lean down and take the one thing I’ve been craving since I dropped her off yesterday afternoon. When her lips touch mine, it’s like a calming balm slathered over my soul. She makes me feel complete and everything is just . . . right.
“Come on in.” She steps to the side and I walk in.
“Do you know what you call a fake noodle?” I ask her.
“What?” Judging by her tone, she knows another lame punchline is coming.
“An impasta.”
Her eyes twinkle as her mouth twists trying not to smile. Ever since she told me the pickup lines are what gave her a bad impression of me, I switched tactics. I’m always going to try to make her laugh; it’s who I am. I’m just going about it in a less aggressive and offensive way.
“You know that’s funny,” I tease.
“I’ll admit you’ve had some good ones here recently.”
See? It’s working.
“Well, put me to work, princess.” I rub my hands together and look around. Not sure what else she has to do since the place looks pretty clean to me, but I’m here and that’s all that matters.
“Can you wipe down the blinds, please?” She holds up a rag.
“Sure.”
And just like that, I’ve been turned into Cinderella. Paige has some music playing quietly in the corner as we get to work. Neither of us says anything, but we don’t need to. You can feel a content energy in the room from being around each other.
Her soft giggles hit my ears. Looking over my shoulder, her hand is on her hip as she shakes her head at me. “What?” I ask.
“Is that your normal cleaning attire?”
I take in my khaki pants and polo shirt versus her yoga pants and tank top and realize how ridiculous I look. I shrug. “I was working before I came over. Plus, I don’t normally clean.” Turning back around, I continue wiping down the blinds, dust flying everywhere.
“For a bachelor, your house is spotless. At least it was the few times I was over with everyone else a while back. Who cleans it?”
Setting the cloth down, I stalk toward her. She must sense the change in demeanor because her eyes widen just a bit as she matches my steps backwards. “First,” I say as I reach her. “I’m not a bachelor. I have you. Second, I owe my cleanliness to Miss Amy who comes over twice a week to help me out.”
She arches a brow. “A cleaning lady? Wow, aren’t you spoiled.”
My eyes focus on hers, a slow, salacious grin stretching across my face as I remember the last time she said something like that to me.
Halfway through Charlotte’s baby shower I catch Paige in the kitchen by herself. She looks exhausted, and it’s easy to see why. She put a lot of effort into this party. “Cook enough food?” I ask, mainly to break the silence and start a conversation.
“I’ve been up since four this morning cooking all of it.” With her hand on her hip and posture slouched, she looks at the spread before her.
“I would’ve just catered it and made it easy on myself.”
“Must be nice to be spoiled and have everyone do everything for you.”
I’m in her face in a second, catching her off guard as she gasps. “Your attitude normally turns me on, but lately it’s getting real old, sweetheart. If you weren’t so bitchy all the damn time, you might find it’s nice to have someone else do some things for you.”
We stare down at each other, neither of us pulling away or backing down. For the first time since we started playing this game of cat and mouse, I’ve got her right where I want her. There’s no running away or hiding. She either wants this or she doesn’t, but she’s gotta meet me halfway. I can’t be the only one pushing for something I can tell we both want.
She’s the first to cave, grabbing the back of my neck and crushing her lips to mine. It sends me over the edge and there’s no holding back.
Stumbling through the kitchen, we make our way to the bathroom where all the teasing and sexual tension from the last two years comes to a head. I take her on top of the sink, bent over it, and against the wall. And I don’t stop until she forgets her name and the only thing she remembers is mine.
“Do you remember what happened the last time you accused me of being spoiled?” My eyes travel all over her face before landing on her lips. We’re only a few inches apart and it would be so easy to take them now, but I want her to recall the moment that started it all.
“My memory is a little foggy. Why don’t you refresh it for me?” As if her taunting words weren’t enough to send me over the edge, she goes and bites her damn lip. A low growl vibrates in the back of my throat.
“Want a reenactment?” I tease.
“I’d love one.”
As I swipe everything off the kitchen island onto the floor, the difference between then and now couldn’t be more evident. Raw need was the driving force between us, now it’s something deeper and more meaningful. As I kiss her slowly, I grow harder and harder as she reciprocates everything I give her. She’s turned this corner with me, taking a leap of faith that I won’t let her down.
Pulling away, I look down at her and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I force them down afraid to ruin the moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, barely able to hear the words over my pounding heart.
Her eyes hold mine as they say everything she’s too timid to voice aloud.
Hold me.
Take me.
Love me.
I use my body to tell her what I don’t think she’s ready to hear.
Very little cleaning actually occurred, but I don’t think either of us cares. A content sigh leaves her lips, her head resting on my chest as I rub her arm while we lie in bed. I know this is exactly where she belongs, and I’m pretty sure she agrees too.
Paige
TIME TO GO pay the price for being a woman.
I’m on my way to the gyno to do my least favorite thing in the world: get a pap smear. While waiting in the lobby, I send a group text to my friends.
Me: Hey, guys. I just got to the doctor. Hopefully, it won’t take long. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.
Lydia:
Sounds good.
Scarlett: Hopefully there’s still booze left.
This one gets me to smile.
Charlotte: See you soon.
I tap my foot as I continue to wait. This isn’t one of those waiting rooms with magazines or a television to keep you entertained. It’s basically just chairs and walls. Nothing interesting about it, so I decide to send Sean a quick text too.
Me: RF- I’ve never broken a bone. My dad says I’m risk averse. I’m sure this surprises you.
With a smile firmly in place, I wait for him to respond, but am called back and have to put my phone away. After my vitals are taken and the nurse has gone over my recent medical history, she asks me one question that puts a lead ball in my stomach.
“What was the first day of your last period?”
I blink several times and stare at her. Shit. When was I supposed to start? “I’m not sure.”
“Are you late?” she asks as she looks up at me.
“Possibly.”
The nurse says something about telling the doctor and leads me into a room. I’m trying really hard not to freak out and use the time I’m waiting to try to pin down when I should have started. I’m not waiting long before my doctor comes in.
“Hey, Paige, how are you?”
“I’m okay, thanks. How are you?”
“I’ve got no complaints.” She looks down at her chart and then back up at me. “Looks like you’re here for your annual, correct?”
“Yep.”
“No surgeries or changes in your medical history?” she asks while she reviews the answers the nurse already got from me.
“Nope.”
“Great. It says here you’re not sure of the first day of your last menstrual cycle. Can you give me an estimate?”
I try to remember when I should have started, but come up blank. The more I think, the further my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. The nurse must see the panic written all over me and tries to end the misery, but all she does is heighten my anxiety. “We’ll give you a pregnancy test real quick.”
“B-but, I can’t be,” I try to reason.
“Are you having unprotected sex?”
“But I’m on the pill.” I don’t know why the words come out so urgent. It’s like if I convince my doctor this can’t be true, then it won’t be.
At Her Own Risk Page 7
