by Jess Epps
The pad of his thumb runs over my neck as we stroke our tongues against each other’s. I’m certain he can feel my pulse drumming eagerly. His smile breaks our kiss and he pulls away. “That…was well worth losing my bacon over.” He’s so close I can feel his warm breath wash over my face as he speaks.
I’m ravenous, blinking up at him with a dazed expression. My voice is merely a whisper as I say, "I'm not hungry anymore."
“I am…but not for any actual food sustenance.”
I bite the inside of my cheek when he admits he wants more of me. He’s so alluring. His raspy voice alone is enough to give me an orgasm. I want to lead him to the back of this diner and have my filthy little way with him.
The waitress brings our breakfast over and sets it down on the white tabletop. She asks Noah if he wants anything else, but completely ignores me. I’m shooting invisible daggers at her with my eyes. Back off, pigtails.
“Do you need anything else, Heather?”
I shake my head no. When the waitress scurries her flirty-ass away from us, he moves his bacon over to my plate before he starts to eat. How the heck does he making chewing look erotic? His chiseled jaw moves lazily and I find myself wanting to bite him again.
As I sit there and eat quietly beside him, I feel my buzz slipping away. Oh no! Come back. I’m so much bolder when I’m drunk. I'm wondering if I should try to make small talk with him right now or just let the man eat.
Half an hour later, I’m stuffed. That was the best breakfast I have ever eaten. We get up and leave the diner, but as we’re getting into the cab I realize we didn’t pay.
“Am I still too drunk not to remember you paying?”
Noah shrugs it off. “Nah, I don’t tend to pay at places my mother owns.” Then it clicks: the ‘Ryan’s breakfast.’ Ha. Noah Ryan.
We’re in the cab on the way to my hotel in Phoenix when he turns to face me. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Heather. I understand that you have to leave soon, but I was hoping I’d get to see you again before you go?”
I smile softly, completely sober now. Crap...where is my courage? Willing myself to be more than just shy, I say, "I'd like that."
“How about you come over to my place tomorrow? I’ll make you dinner and we can put a movie on?”
He cooks too? I nod and take my iPhone out of my clutch, and hand it to him. “I might need your number then, Noah.”
“Touché. That was smooth as hell.” He moves his fingers over the screen as he inputs his number; he calls himself and I can hear his phone vibrate against his pocket. “Now I’ve got yours too. I’ll give you a time and address when I get up in the morning. It all depends on how hung over I am.” The laugh that vibrates throughout the interior of the cab is so spicy and sexy. I want his lips against mine again.
The cab pulls up to my hotel and parks at the entrance. Swinging the door open, I look back at him after I get out and he looks as if he’s ready to pounce on me from the backseat.
He does.
He grabs my waist and pulls me flush up against his hard body. I can feel every dip and roll of his muscles when I run my hand down his chest.
He presses his lips to mine briefly, which leaves me wanting more before his smile sideswipes me, and my heart is about to beat out of my chest.
“Goodnight, little ballerina.”
My body won’t budge.
He gets back into the cab just as effortlessly as he got out. I manage to wave my fingers, “Until tomorrow…”
He’s pulling the door shut, but right before it closes he states, “It’s a date.”
I anxiously fumble to get my phone out of my clutch, hurriedly typing out a text.
Happy New Year.
It takes a few minutes, but I get a reply when I walk into my hotel room. Happy New Year indeed, ballerina.
Noah
New Year’s Day
I WAKE UP with one massive motherfucking hangover. I didn’t think I drank that much; however, my body detests me this morning.
I’m pacing the length of the hotel room trying to figure out what to do for this date, impatient as all hell to see Heather again. Come hell or high water, I need to make this work.
I’ve never cooked a meal for anyone beside myself. All I know I’m good at cooking is pizza. She’ll assume that I ordered that shit in, or that it was frozen.
Screw it. Pizza it is.
After a long steam shower to freshen up after last night, I dry off and check out of the hotel before heading down to my truck. I make a stop at the grocery store and the local farmers’ market on the way back to my place in Tempe.
I want to make such an impression on her that she doesn’t want to head back to New York. I don’t want her 2,500 miles away. Could she live any farther from me? This shit is too stressful.
Deciding that my shit job of cleaning won’t cut it, I call a professional cleaning company and tell them it’s urgent. Within the next hour, the cleaners are at my place and scrubbing every fucking surface while I get the pizza together.
Somehow this woman has managed to come into the New Year with me after I fought hard to keep her out, but I’ve decided not to fight it anymore. Grabbing my phone I shoot her a quick text.
Are we still on for tonight?
The agonizing twelve minutes it takes for her to text me back was the longest twelve minutes of my life.
Oh definitely! When and where?
Good. How does 7 p.m. sound?
Sure! That’s perfect.
I look forward to our date, Heather.
Shit. 6 p.m. The cleaning company finishes up then leaves after I pay them. Another five minutes pass before a text message comes in.
How about 7:01? ;)
Laughing at her witty side, I respond. Damn. Screw 7 p.m. Get your ass here now.
I'd love to, Noah, but I have one slight problem.
And what would that be?
You haven't given me your address.
Shit. I quickly type out the address and hit send as I step into a pair of jeans, deciding to go without socks or shoes this evening. Once I’ve got my shirt on, I grab my Eau de Lacoste Blanc cologne, spraying it onto my chest and forearms.
About twenty-five minutes later, there's a knock on my door. Knowing I'm roughly twenty minutes from her hotel, I look at my watch and smirk. She must have left almost immediately. I walk to the entrance hall, scanning the place before opening the door.
She’s looking down at her feet and fidgeting nervously. She’s in the sexiest pair of body-hugging leather leggings, which have these little brass zippers that run from her ankle and, halfway up her calf. Her deep turquoise blue shirt hangs past her flawless little ass, and I hate it. However, the V-neck running down her cleavage makes up for it. I have a clear view of her perfect tits.
“Fuck, you’re adorable, you know that?” I say as I move aside. She looks up quickly and I love the blush that's forming on her cheeks. She steps through the threshold of my apartment and lightly places her hand on my chest.
“I’m going to make a swear jar for you,” she says cheekily, as she walks farther into my apartment, her jade green eyes taking in my life.
“Hi, by the way,” I say, as I lean against the wall in the entryway.
She's looking everywhere, but then her eyes find mine again and her genuine smile knocks the air out of my lungs, leaving me gasping.
"Hi to you too, stranger."
“You look beautiful, little ballerina. What can I get you to drink?” I ask gruffly, tugging at her hand to pull her into the kitchen with me, as she laughs at my sobriquet.
"Do you have any iced tea?"
“Yeah, I do.” I swiftly push her back against the cold refrigerator, trapping her between my arms. “But first I’m going to take what I’ve wanted since the cab drove away last night.”
She looks up at me through those long fucking lashes and her lips are parted. "What have you wanted, Noah?"
“This…” I bury my hand into her now straig
ht dark-chocolate hair before taking her mouth, kissing her heatedly. Her body moves away from the fridge and closer to mine. I slip my hand down her blouse, to the small of her back, holding her against me. Her lips are soft and demanding as she lets out a soft cry then takes a quick intake of breath as if she wasn’t expecting a kiss.
Damn, she tastes so good. I feel her petite hand slide up my chest and all my senses are heightened by her touch. I'm going to devour her tonight. The apartment is quiet; the only sounds that fill the space are the ones coming from our mouths.
My lips automatically move from hers down to her throat as a guttural growl escapes from my chest. Biting and sucking on her silk-like skin before I pull away, I attempt to bring myself back from her sexual allure.
“Do you still want that tea, ballerina?” My voice is raspier, thicker with want.
"What tea?" she asks breathlessly, blinking up at me with those striking green eyes, and smiles, pushing against my chest. "Ugh, you are so going to get it, Ryan." She moves out of my grip and walks over to where her purse sits.
“Get what?” I ask.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“It better be worth the wait.”
The oven goes off and I move to take the pizza out. “I made a Margherita pizza with fresh tomatoes from the farmers’ market. Will you eat this?” I ask anxiously.
"You made that?" She sounds genuinely surprised.
"Hell yes, I made it. Not all men are lost in the kitchen." I turn and wink at her. “Why don’t you pick out a movie and I’ll bring the pizza over.”
She nods enthusiastically and walks over to the couch in heels that any other woman would break their ankles in, but Heather pulls them off faultlessly. She bends forward to pick up the remote, giving me a good look at her ass.
I’m going to make her mine.
I can’t stand the thought of any other man having her. Thinking of another man’s hands on her makes my blood boil.
Heather
I PLOP DOWN on his larger-than-life couch, grabbing the remote, and turning on the TV. I decide on the movie and hit play as Noah brings the pizza and drinks over. This Greek god really can cook. My mouth is watering from the aroma—well, not only the aroma.
I move my hand to my neck where his lips were; a quick carnal shiver runs down my body. I take a deep breath to try and steady myself but my tender sex is throbbing. I’m in need of much more than a kiss.
“Go ahead and dig in,” he says as he sits down next to me. He’s close and I can smell his cologne. Oh my, he makes my head twirl.
Trying not to be so nervous, I move to the edge of the couch to grab a slice. "Mmm, I love fresh tomatoes." I feel his eyes move down the back of my body and to my ass. I think he has a thing for asses.
“Well? I’m waiting for your critique,” he probes as I take a bite and groan in delight.
“Mmm, this is so delicious.” Not only is this pizza good, but also the cook himself is mouthwatering. I look over at him and he's so stinking relaxed, sitting back against his couch, smirking. "What?" I ask, because he's just watching me.
Shaking his head as he picks up a slice of pizza, he says, “I’m still trying to grasp that you’re here. In my apartment. I’ve wanted to have you alone and to myself since I saw you on stage.”
I smile and tuck my hair behind my ears. "Oh really? You have a thing for tutus?" I take another bite then boldly reach over and steal a tomato off of his slice.
“First my bacon and now my tomatoes? Damn woman, you are risking your fingers. And, yeah, I was fond of your tutu, but I liked…like…you more. The rest could have been litany for all I know.”
Pausing mid-chew to look at him, my heart is now in my throat. He was paying that much attention to me? Crap. I hope I didn’t look like a fool on stage. Setting my unfinished slice on my plate, I ask, "Do you care if I take my shoes off?"
“Is this a harbinger of you nesting in my apartment?” He adds cockily, “I’m not going to stop you.”
I laugh and slip off my heels, curling my feet up on the couch. "No," I reply, looking down and noticing his bare feet. I bite the inside of my cheek. I want to...Heather, stop!
“I wouldn’t mind,” he says quietly.
I stay quiet, not wanting to tell him that I wouldn’t mind either. The movie continues in the background when I turn to face him. “I’d like to know more about you. What do you do?”
“And so the interrogations begin.” He chuckles lightly then finishes his pizza before continuing. “I’m currently studying for the bar exam.”
I'm sure my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline because I'm beyond surprised. An attorney? Then what would explain all of the muscles? In a split second, my mind wonders what Noah would look like shirtless. I squirm uncomfortably because the ache between my legs just intensified. I take a much needed breath and reply, "I wasn't expecting that."
He takes a drink and leans back, stretching his arm out behind me on the couch. “Most people don’t,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll be sitting for the bar exam in February. I recently graduated from law school, and I’m ready to have all this shit over and done with.”
My toes wiggle against the couch. "What kind of law do you want to practice?"
“I’m hoping to practice family law—marriages, adoptions, divorce, and all that shit.” He’s gazing at me with those ocean green eyes and neither one of us is watching the movie anymore—it's just background noise. Thank goodness because I'm sure he could hear my heart beating loudly if it were quiet in here.
"So that woman you were with at the show…is she your mom?" I ask with sincere curiosity.
"You could technically call her that. She adopted me as an infant. She took me in as her own when the adoption went through. Her name's Mae."
I think my heart just broke for this man. I'm not sure I want to dig any further. I feel horrible for asking, yet he doesn't seem upset by my question. "Well, she seems lovely."
"She is. She has her feisty moments, but what woman doesn't?" he adds jokingly.
I gasp at his obvious dig. "Hey!" Shoving my feet over and pinching at his thigh with my toes.
"Shit, woman, calm yourself.” He grabs hold of my ankle, wrapping his fingers around my leather leggings.
I bite the inside of my cheek when his warm fingers brush the arch of my foot. My, his hands are hot! Those fingers send sparks into my body. He's so strong; I just know he could manhandle me in bed. I internally fan myself because I'm evidently flushed.
"I'm not sure if I can calm myself right now." HEATHER! Did that really just come out of your mouth?
"I don't blame you." His fingers move to the little brass zipper on my leggings; he pulls up on it and toys with it, teasing me.
I try for nonchalant. "Undressing me already?" Geez, I so wish he would.
His eyes shoot up to mine. I think he’s shocked at first, but then a slow, cocky grin forms on his face as he starts pulling the zipper up my leg. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I smile a very sexy one of my own. "Maybe. Maybe not." He's caressing my ankle with his thumb now, and I’m screaming inside.
"I'd say you're well on your way to enjoying it. You keep squirming. Hell, and I'm well on my way to this foot fetish if this is the only part of your body I get to touch."
I...holy crap! My body is buzzed with anticipation when a moan fills the room. A sex scene is unfolding on his large flat-screen TV.
My eyes flicker to the screen for a moment. Do I do this? Do I make this leap? This isn't going to turn into anything—we live too far apart. It's just for tonight, Heather: let go and do what you want to do for a change. Looking back over at him, I see his eyes are fixed on me. "Who said you couldn't touch more?" His eyes dance down my body and I'm sweltering.
"That was all the invitation I needed." With his free hand he reaches up and turns the lamp off. My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness, and when they do, he's running his big tanned hand up my calf and to my thi
gh. I go weak.
For the love of the color pink, he's taking his time as his hand works slowly up my thigh. Is he toying with me on purpose? It's working—oh, it is so working. I'm practically panting. He parts my legs and moves up my body, his hand still resting on my thigh. My breasts are heaving drastically as I lose control of my breath.
“Tell me when to stop,” he says in a low voice.
I can only nod. I'd sound completely desperate if I used my voice. I am desperate. I want him so badly. It's been so long for me and he's pushing every hot button I have. My stomach is tight with anticipation and we're still fully clothed. He lowers his body to mine and I feel some of his weight. I can hear myself breathing. I want him. I want this. Possibly more than I’ve ever wanted a connection with somebody before.
The hand that was on my thigh is now roaming north to my butt. He pushes his hand between the couch and me, finally cupping my ass. His touches are drowning my panties. My legs are trembling. I’m so nervous, but so turned on. He definitely knows what foreplay is. And holy hell, does he take his sweet time.
He's face to face with me when I run my hands into his soft dark hair as he brings his mouth down to mine. He's inching his hand up under my thin blouse and the skin-to-skin contact has me arching my back off of the couch. When he reaches my black lace bra, his fingers find the clasp, undoing it effortlessly.
Oh my, a man who knows what he's doing. I cannot believe how turned on I am.
He's going straight for what he wants. Maybe he's not an ass man...maybe he likes...oh, who cares. His tongue skillfully strokes mine and I'm loving how soft his touches are, but for some reason I feel like there’s something behind his touches. Something he’s hiding.
The moans coming from the TV only intensify what's happening between us. He licks my teeth then pulls back to trace his tongue across my lower lip. I almost come. He hasn't even touched me there yet and I’m about to erupt! I can sense that he has a smug grin on his gorgeous face: he knows exactly what he's doing to me. He moves his lips to my ear and whispers, "I want to see you, little ballerina."
