by Serena Grey
I shrug and start to drive, wondering at her sweetness compared to the brittle sharpness of many of the women I know. But then, if the saying about birds of a feather is true, then perhaps I’m brittle and sharp as well.
Outside, the sun is setting, casting a gold glow into the car, which lights Sophie’s face and hair. She looks like a girl in a renaissance painting, beautiful and sensual, yet innocent.
“Were you at a conference at Ashcroft Hills?” Her voice cuts into my thoughts.
“Yes.” I reply, remembering self-important, midlevel software company executives and boring conversation.
“I hope it went well.”
I shrug. I suppose it did, in a way. “I went to make a decision about a new software application that could be the next big thing, or a complete waste of time.”
“What did you decide?”
I turn to look at her, wondering that she is interested. She is looking up at me, her eyes soft and wide. “I bought it.” I tell her.
She watches me in silence. I have no idea what she’s thinking. I have a feeling that she can see inside me. I don’t want her to. Somehow, I fear I won’t stand up to the scrutiny.
“Tell me about yourself.” I say. “I already know you’re not outgoing,” I smile to let her know that I’m teasing, “So tell me more.”
She turns to look at her hands on her lap, a small frown on her face. “You won’t be interested.”
I am interested. I want to know her, and not just in the biblical sense. I want to know the feelings behind her expression, the thoughts behind her blushes. I’m confused by my own desires.
“On the contrary, I am very intrigued.” I give her an encouraging grin, “I would very much like to know what you do with your time.”
“I read,” she says, and I’m not surprised. She seems like someone who reads a lot. “Sometimes I draw.” She adds.
An artist. “What do you draw?”
“Stuff.” She seems embarrassed again.
I chuckle softly. “And what do you read? Can I ask, or is it also ‘stuff’?”
“No... I read everything.” Her eyes light up as she continues, “History, classics, popular fiction.” She stops and shrugs, and I get the impression that she could talk about books for a long time.
I smile. “I thought young people never read anymore.”
She gives me a look. It’s thoughtful and curious at the same time. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t.
“What are you thinking, Sophie?”
She looks away, as if she just realized that she was staring. “I was just wondering how old you are.” She admits.
I laugh. I would never confess it to anyone, but at that moment, I feel self-conscious about my age. I’m a full-grown man, pursuing someone who is only a little more than a child.
“Oh, I’m legal,” I say, laughing at myself. “I’m twenty seven.”
She is silent, but she doesn’t run out of the car screaming for help, which is a good thing for me. For her own good, maybe she should, maybe she should run away from me.
At the restaurant, we get a table that looks into a park, it’s a little secluded, which is fine by me. I order wine for us and look through the menu. After we’ve made our orders, I turn back to her.
“So you’re not outgoing, you read, and you draw.” At this point, that’s all I know about her, “that can’t be all.”
“My mother died giving birth to me,” The words are sudden and unexpected. I frown, looking at her face for a clue as to how she feels telling me that.
“That must have been hard for you.” I reply. I know a little of how it feels to lose a parent, or both.
“I suppose it was.” She looks lost for a moment while I wait for her to go on. “I grew up with my Aunt Josephine,” She continues, “but she died a few months ago.” Her lips form a sad smile. “Aunt Josephine told me that my father was some professor my mother had a ‘sordid’ affair with during the only semester she spent at college.” She looks up at my face, a small frown on hers. “Unfortunately that’s the only thing I know about him.”
As she speaks, she seems to get more and more vulnerable, at least in my eyes. I barely know her and yet I want to protect her. I watch her large eyes cloud, and I feel a wave of annoyance towards the aunt. “Your aunt doesn’t sound very nice.” I observe.
Her face tells me all I need to know. “Aunt Josephine was ... different.” She says.
I nod. “So you went to boarding school?”
“Yes, when I was twelve.” She smiles softly and shakes her head. “I didn’t make a lot of friends, but we had a wonderful library.”
“Of course.” I chuckle. Books.
“That’s all there is to me.” She says, the small smile still on her lips. “I graduated, Aunt Josephine died, and I started working at the gift shop.”
That doesn’t tell me why she isn’t going to college, like she should be. “So why no college?” I ask.
She frowns. “Maybe it’s not for me.” She says, “I’m moving to Bellevue to find a job.”
The confidence in her tone can only be from the wine. She must be scared to consider doing something as drastic as moving away from the town where she grew up, without even the security of a job waiting for her, but she seems to be handling it well. “Why Bellevue?” I ask.
She looks deep in thought, and then she shrugs and doesn’t say anything. I don’t pursue it. I consider asking her to come to Seattle instead. I would get her a job, make sure she’s all right. I watch as she licks her lips distractedly, and I know there’s no way I would be able to keep my hands off her.
No, I should just leave her alone.
I notice a guy come into the restaurant with a brunette in tow. He doesn’t take two steps before his eyes lock on Sophie. She has her back to him, so she can’t see him. His expression turns to one of surprise, and he says something to his companion. As I watch, they begin to come towards us.
He looks young, closer to her age than me. A boyfriend maybe. Feeling unaccountably jealous, I wait as he approaches our table.
“Sophie?” The guy says when he is close enough for her to hear. Sophie frowns, her eyes still on me, then she turns around to see who it is. I watch her face, her reactions, wanting to see any sign that he means something to her.
“Hi Eddie.” Her voice is friendly but not overly so.
“It’s really nice to see you, Sophie.” The guy, Eddie, says, his eyes leaving her face only for a second, to look at mine.
“It’s nice to see you too, Eddie.” Sophie replies, for a second she looks unsure what to do. “David, this is Eddie,” She starts tentatively. “We were neighbors growing up.”
I watch her face for any sign of another meaning in that statement, wondering at my sudden and unjustifiable possessiveness.
“Eddie, this is David Preston,” she continues, “he...” she stops and I watch the blush steal into her cheeks.
“I’m attending a conference here in town,” I finish for her. “or I was. I’m heading back to Seattle in the morning.”
My eyes don’t leave Sophie’s face as I speak, so I see the look of disappointment that immediately clouds her features. A small frown steals into her face. I feel an unfamiliar surge of concern. I try to pay attention while her friend introduces his companion.
“I’m sorry for your loss Sophie,” he says to Sophie, giving her a smile that makes me want to give him a job somewhere very far away. “I’m sorry I haven’t tried to see you before now.” He adds.
“You were away at school,” She replies, “and I’m okay.”
He gives her another smile before moving away from our table. I watch him go, jealousy eating at me. “Old boyfriend?” I ask, turning back to Sophie, the coolness in my voice hiding the fact that I really need her to deny it.
“No,” her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Of course not. I don’t have any old boyfriends.”
I’m almost ashamed of the relief I feel. “Young one
s then?” I probe, looking intently at her.
She shakes her head, filling me with an insane and inexplicable feeling of exultation.
“You didn’t tell me you were leaving.” She says in a small voice. The thought that she doesn’t want me to go is selfishly elating. I lean back on my chair and watch her face.
“I was leaving this afternoon,” I say with a small shrug, “and yet when I saw you, I stopped to ask you to dinner.”
A blush steals into her cheeks. “Oh.”
I smile ruefully. “But then I left anyway.”
“I don’t understand.” She says, puzzlement creeping into her face, “You’re here.”
But I shouldn’t be, if I had any sense I would be far away from her. I suppress the voice of reason. “I was going to call the shop and apologize to you, but I came back, and now here I am, back in Ashford, on a date with an eighteen year old.”
For a moment, she looks incredibly sad. “I’m glad you changed your mind.” She says finally, her voice intense.
The passion in her response surprises me. God, I want her. The desire I felt earlier has turned into an acute craving, I want to take her away from this godforsaken town and put a mark on her that’ll make her unquestionably mine, but I know that I’m not what she needs. I’m no romantic hero, and if she’s cast me in that role, I would only disappoint her expectations.
“Somebody should have warned you to stay away from men like me.” I’m warning her now.
Her eyes never leave my face. She studies me intently, as if weighing me for my faults and surprisingly finding none. “What kind of man are you?” She asks.
I don’t pause. “The type that’s bad for you.”
She ignores the warning in my voice. “I wouldn’t have listened.” She tells me, her eyes burning. I take a deep breath. Somehow, I know I’m already lost.
“I should take you home.” I say, signaling for the bill.
She keeps looking at me. I would give a lot to know what she’s thinking. “Let’s go.” I say, as soon as I’ve settled the bill. I help her out of her chair and lead her outside to the car. Silently, I open her door and then go over to my side.
“Will you come back here?” Her voice is barely higher than a murmur.
“I’m not sure.” The sooner this is over, and she is safely at home, away from me, the better for all concerned. I shrug. “You’ll be in Bellevue anyway.”
Her silence gets to me. Her face is turned away, looking towards her lap. Regret washes over me. I wish I were a different man. I wish a lot of things.
“Are you okay?” I ask, placing my hand under her chin as I turn her face towards me. Her eyes are covered with a sheen of tears, and her lips are trembling. Everything in me, everything in my life suddenly takes second place to the need to take away those tears. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just find myself leaning forward, and in the next moment, I’m kissing her.
Her skin smells delicious, and her lips are soft and warm, just like I knew they would be. I lose the ability to think, as I get lost in the taste and feel of her. She lets out a soft moan, opening her lips to me. I can’t help myself. I plunge into the warm sweetness of her mouth, letting my tongue explore her.
I undo her seatbelt, needing to feel her against me. When she’s free,I pull her towards me and feel the softness of her breasts against my chest. The ache in my groin intensifies, spreading all over my body, until I’m almost mad with the desire to touch every inch of her skin.
Still kissing her, I allow my fingers to explore the softness of her body, cupping a breast and finding a nipple through her dress. I rub it until it’s swollen, clearly outlined through the fabric.
“Oh,” her moan is one of surprise and arousal. I search her face, quelling the desire to take her lips again. The look in her eyes, the surprise in her reactions to my touch, tells me what I should have guessed.
She’s never done this before.
The realization wars with my blinding urge to lay claim to her. I’m still struggling with myself when she lifts her face and kisses me. Once again, I’m lost. I dive readily into the pleasure of her lips. My hands find the hair tie holding her ponytail in place, and I free her hair, watching the waves cascade over her shoulders.
“Sophie...” I breathe. I feel bewitched. I ought to let her go, to do the right thing, but my hands are itching to touch her, my body is aching for her. I feel like a caveman. I want to throw her over my shoulders, take her somewhere, and mark her as mine. “I wanted to do that since I saw you outside the shop this afternoon,” I say, striving for calm as I thread my fingers into her hair. I smile, “You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”
She takes a deep shuddering breath, but she doesn’t say anything.
I release her with a small sigh. I have never been so frustrated in my life. “I’d better take you home.” I say, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
Her expression of disappointment is my only consolation. She wants me too. I touch her soft lips, tracing a finger over the curve, “Sweetheart, I want you so much.”
“I want you too.” She whispers, her eyes on my face.
Frustration is making me mad, I think, as I run a hand through my hair, laughing softly at myself. I have to warn her, I think desperately. I have to let her know exactly what she’s going into. Maybe if I did, she would reject me.
“I can’t make any promises, Sophie.” I say. “You don’t deserve someone who will forget about you the moment he’s out of town.”
Her eyes widen, threatening to drown me in their green depths. “Will you forget me so quickly?”
I look away. I should say yes, and then maybe she would walk away. “I don’t know.” I say instead, because deep down, I don’t want to go.
For a long time, she says nothing. In my mind, I imagine my lonely drive back to Seattle, a cold shower, a night spent working in my study. I can do that, I think, just send me on my way Sophie.
“What if I don’t care?” She asks softly, her words piercing my brain and making it incapable of rational thought. “What if I want you anyway?”
Chapter Four
THE CAR IS SILENT EXCEPT FOR the sound of our breathing. I feel as if I’m drowning in the invitation in Sophie’s eyes. God I want her, I want her so badly I‘ve lost the ability to think clearly. I tear my gaze away from her face and start the car.
Driving as fast as I can, I clear the distance to her apartment in almost no time. I go over to her side to open the door, and as I take her hand I feel my palms burn where they touch her skin.
She looks up at me, her eyes questioning. Her lips parted invitingly. I want to claim them again, but I know that if I kiss her, I won’t be able to stop myself from making love to her right here by the car. I almost groan as that particular image enters my mind. I’m already aching and swollen with arousal. I gesture for her to lead the way, barely restraining myself from grabbing her as she walks ahead of me on the stairs to her apartment.
Once inside, I can’t contain my hunger. I reach for her, pulling her close and filling my senses with the fresh scent and taste of her skin. She rewards my touch with a sweet, soft moan, fanning the feverish flames heating my blood to a boiling point.
Her body is beautiful, soft, smooth, and so incredibly responsive. I undress her, devouring the sweetness of her lips and trailing my fingers over her firm curves. Soon I have her almost naked, her legs wrapped around my waist, her breast wondrously soft in my hands, my heavy, aching groin pressed against her moist panties. I want to plunge deep into her warmth. I want to feel the deepest parts of her. I’m going insane, and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself.
She moans and rubs herself against me, causing an explosion to go off in my brain. And even though all I want is to turn her anticipation into the sweetest passion she’s ever felt, I attempt to warn her again.
“I am going to make love to you now,” I say thickly, trying to still my hungry hands, “so if you want me to stop, tell me.”
She shakes her head, and that’s all I need. I manage to tear off my clothes before I carry her in the direction of her room.
I want to make it good for her. So I hold myself back, pleasuring her body, tasting her, arousing her, making her come with my fingers and my tongue, and reveling in the pleasure of watching her lose herself with abandon.
When I finally press myself against her silky warmth, she is wet and ready. I want to go slow, but the pleasure is indescribable. It takes over my mind, and I lose control, plunging deep into her, and feeling every mind blowing sensation as her body closes and tightens around me.
Her cry of pain tears through the haze of my pleasure. I stop, but then she urges me to continue, moving her hips to let me know what she wants. I try to hold back the waves of sensations that have taken over my body. It’s no use, when she starts to moan, her hips moving to meet mine, my brain switches off, and it’s only her sweat slicked body under my own, her soft sounds of pleasure, her heaving breasts, and the sweetness between her legs.
My heart is beating like a drum. My hips flex, moving on their own accord as I thrust into her again and again. I groan, her warmth driving me over the edge. Her body stiffens, and she cries out. I thrust deeply into her one last time, helpless as my own body explodes in a peak of pleasure I’ve never experienced before.
I collapse on the bed, trying to keep my weight off her. There are no words to describe how I feel.
“You’re beautiful.” I whisper and I turn on my side and pull her to me. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
~§~§~§~§~
I wake up relaxed and sated. Beside me, Sophie is staring at my face, her lips curved in a shy smile.
“Good morning.” She whispers. I watch her stretch, her naked body perfect in the morning light, reminding me of last night. My own body hardens in arousal, eager to pounce on her. I restrain myself. She looks okay, but I’m sure she must feel a little soreness.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Great.” She smiles, clearly not unhappy, “A little sore.” She adds with a shrug, as if it doesn’t matter.
I nod. I should leave. I have to get back to the office, and she’ll probably have to go to work.
