Kinetic Energy

by Hayley Faiman

  Ines lets out a whimper, and both of her hands wrap around my neck, while her full breasts press against my chest. If we weren’t in public right now, I would push her up against the first hard surface I could find and have my way with her. I fucking need her, more than I’ve ever needed anything before, the desire is overwhelming.

  “Thomas,” she sighs against my mouth.

  My only response is a grunt as I grip her waist tightly. She’s so curvy, and yet her waist is so small that I could probably wrap my hands around her and have my fingers touch. Lifting my gaze from her lips, I look straight into her eyes and my fingers flex. A barrage of emotion fills me. This woman, she’s more than just some girl—I can feel it. I’m not sure if I’m ready for all she could potentially be for me.

  Clearing my throat, I don’t tell her what I’m thinking, I don’t understand it myself. Until I do, I can’t explain it or express it. “Are you ready?” I ask.

  She nods as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. Wrapping my hand around hers, I guide her toward my car. We don’t talk, but I don’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, I feel at ease just having her by my side. All of the anxiousness from earlier has completely melted away. Her small hand squeezes mine and I look down to her as we slow down, nearing my car.

  “Wow, this is your car?” she practically breathes.

  I glance at my car, then back at her. I’ve never really thought much about it. I enjoy my ride, and I bought it because I enjoy the luxury it offers, but not because I wanted to look flashy or boastful about money.

  In reality, I don’t make millions, and my house payment is low. I don’t spend a lot on myself, and my paycheck is mine to do with as I please, just as Danielle’s is for herself and herself alone. I mumble a thanks, opening the door for her. Once she’s inside, I gently close the door behind her and make my way to the driver’s seat.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asks as I pull out onto the road and head toward the restaurant.

  Inhaling deeply, I let out an exhale and glance over at her. “I just never thought about how my car would make me look,” I admit truthfully.

  “Do you think that I see you differently? That I think you’re rich?” she asks. I stop at the red light and glance over at her. She’s got a grin on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. She’s fucking with me.

  Lifting my hand, I press my thumb against her bright red bottom lip. “Do you see me differently?” I ask quietly.

  She laughs, it’s husky and sexy as sin. “No,” she says shaking her head. “This is exactly how I pictured your car. Something sleek and sexy, just like you.” Her cheeks tint pink with her words. I want to say more, maybe reach across the center console and kiss her, but the light turns green.

  From that moment on, Ines talks, and she doesn’t stop. It’s refreshing, and I find that I enjoy listening to her speak. She tells me that she comes from a big family, she has four older siblings and she’s the baby.

  When I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, she tells me that she was raised by a single mother. Hearing that hits a chord deep within me, our backgrounds are similar, and maybe that is just another reason we’re drawn to one another.

  Exiting the car, I jog over to her side and help her out as well. Taking her hand in mine, I tell her that I was raised by a single father. “What happened to your mom?” she asks, her brows pinched together and concern obvious in her features.

  Slipping my arm around her shoulders, I tug her a little closer to my side. “My mom just left one day. She couldn’t handle being a mother, I suppose, or maybe she thought because my father was the head of a successful company that she would be a wealthy housewife who shopped all day in the city?”

  Ines tips her head to the side, looking up at me. “But that wasn’t the case?”

  “That wasn’t the case,” I agree. “He runs a successful company, but New York isn’t a cheap place to live, and my father isn’t one for material things. We lived comfortably but not lavishly. I don’t remember her well, but my father has spoken of her from time-to-time. She left us, and from then on, it was just me and Dad,” I shrug.

  “That must have been hard,” she breathes as I open the door to the restaurant.

  I hum as my only response. It was hard not having a mother, but I would assume that she already knows how that feels since she doesn’t have a father of her own. I inform the hostess of our reservation and she immediately takes us to our table. We’re seated in the back of the restaurant and I’m glad for it. The extra privacy is exactly what I desire, as I would like to know everything there is to know about Ines Nazario.

  Once we’re seated I discard my menu, already knowing what I want, content to watch Ines read over her options. I watch as her brows knit together as her eyes take in the choices ahead of her. “What looks good to you?” I ask.

  Her head pops up and her eyes widen. “I don’t know,” she states hesitantly.

  “Do you like red meat?”

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she nods, almost shyly. “The grilled beef tenderloin is one of my favorites, you should try it,” I urge.

  I can’t take my eyes off of her as she searches the menu, then her expression changes to one of almost shock. She leans over as though she’s about to tell me a secret. I can’t keep my lips from turning up into a smile as she does, my eyes staying directly on hers, waiting to see what she says.

  “That’s thirty dollars, Thomas, and it only comes with mashed potatoes and broccoli, not a salad or anything else. That could buy two Costco-sized pizzas,” she whispers.

  I chuckle softly at her concern over the price of the food. It’s terribly endearing, and her wide-eyed innocence makes me want to take her to a million expensive restaurants, to terribly overpriced ones just so that I can see this look again, and again.

  Leaning in a little, I give her a wink. “I’ll order you two, Ines. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  INES

  Whatever you want, it’s yours.

  Thomas’ words surprise me. I’ve never dated anybody who has ever said them to me before. My heart skips a beat because I don’t think that he’s referring to only food. Not if the naughty gleam in his eyes is any indication. I open my mouth to say something, what I’m not sure, when the waiter arrives.

  Without asking me anything, I listen as Thomas orders so many items from the menu that my head spins. I couldn’t keep track of everything, but I didn’t mistake the grilled beef tenderloin as one of the things he said. I reach for his hand, but he flicks his wrist and gives me another wink.

  “Also, I’ll have a bottle of Peter Franus from your reserve,” he hums huskily.

  I don’t know what that is, but it sounds fancy as hell. I’m completely out of my element here, and yet, I don’t feel like that when it’s just the two of us.

  “For the lady, sir?” the waiter asks.

  There’s a twinkle in his eye when Thomas glances to me. Then he turns back to the waiter. “She’ll have the Elderflower Spritzer.” The waiter nods and quietly disappears after taking our menus.

  “What did you order?” I practically hiss.

  Thomas laughs lightly, as though this is all a big joke. “I ordered you some pita bread and hummus, soup, your tenderloin, and a white wine spritzer. You’ll like it, I hope,” he shrugs.

  “I’m not twenty-one,” I say, looking down in my lap, a sense of embarrassment washing over me. We haven’t discussed our ages, but I know he’s probably close to forty, and I doubt he knows my age.

  Thomas reaches for my hand and tugs it across the table. Lifting my head, I look into his pretty blue gaze. “I know you’re not twenty-one, Ines. It’s very light, just something that I thought you would enjoy, same goes for the rest of dinner.”

  “I’m eighteen, Thomas,” I admit.

  His expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t act shocked or the least bit concerned at my confessed age. “I’m forty-four, Ines,” he mutters. He looks so unsure, and I hate that.
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  I turn my hand over and lace my fingers with his. “Does it bother you that I’m so young?”

  His gaze stays connected to mine and I feel my body begin to heat under his scrutinizing gaze. Then, he tips his head to the side. “It should, but it doesn’t, not in the slightest. I think you’re absolutely stunning, and I’ve very much enjoyed our conversation this evening.”

  I nod in agreement. “It doesn’t bother me either. You’re refreshing.”

  He smiles, laughing a little, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Because I’m not talking about parties or classes?” he guesses.

  Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh myself. “No, because you aren’t trying to get me drunk. Aren’t trying to take advantage of me. You’re looking into my eyes, and not staring at my chest. I don’t know, I’ve never had that before,” I admit with a shrug.

  “Don’t believe for a second that I’m not just like them, Ines. I’ll take advantage if you allow me,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a darker, deeper tone. “Your body is fantastic, and the taste you gave me yesterday has me wanting so very much more from you.”

  “If I told you no, would you stop?” I ask, licking my lips.

  His head jerks slightly. “Did someone, not stop?” he practically growls.

  I think about his words, and I shake my head slowly. “Only because I ran,” I admit.

  “I’ll kill him,” he states.

  Giving his fingers another squeeze. “It’s not worth it, but you are different, and I like that about you.”

  “I would never purposely hurt you, Ines.”

  My eyes fill with tears and I try with everything inside of me to beat them back by the fierceness in his voice. “I know.”

  Our food arrives a few minutes later, and I’m grateful for the interruption. We spend the rest of the evening discussing everything from our favorite movies to our favorite types of music. I’m surprised when Thomas admits that he enjoys Fun, Maroon 5, and Mumford & Son, I had pegged him for a classical music kind of guy. When I tell him as such he bursts out laughing.

  “Angel eyes, why would you think I listen to classical music? Not that I have anything against it, I do enjoy it. I just don’t listen to it often.”

  “I just figured all super smart scientist professor-types drank bourbon and listened to Mozart,” I admit with a smile.

  We continue on with our conversation long after our food is gone, and our dessert. We don’t take a break in laughing and talking until the waiter apologizes to tell us that the restaurant is now closing. Thomas returns his apology and hands him his credit card. A few minutes later, after he’s signed the bill, we stand.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks.

  I nod, not wishing the night to end, not ever. I’ve never had so much fun just talking with a man. I’ve never wanted to know every single detail about another person before. He’s simply intriguing and so smart. I don’t know why he’s not married, or why he doesn’t have children, and I vow when I’m brave enough—I’ll ask him both questions.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  INES

  I pull my covers over my head a little tighter, mumbling that I fucking hate, hate, my roommate’s douchebag boyfriend, as he pounds on our door at some obscene hour. I had the best night last night, the best first date in the history of first dates. I didn’t get home until really late, and although Thomas was a perfect gentleman, the kiss at the end of the night was indecent and it left me craving so much more of him.

  Listening in on their conversation, I hear him tell her that she’s stupid. Then she fucking apologizes to him, and I hear rustling, glancing over to them I watch as he shakes her, hard. I wish that I could stop him, but I know not to get involved in shit like that. I tried once when my sister’s ex-husband was going at her, and all it got me was a black eye.

  I begin to gag when I hear Trent, Jessa’s boyfriend, tell her that she can make everything up to him if she lets him come down her throat. I seriously hate that asshole. Once the door closes, signaling his departure, I throw the covers from my body.

  “God, he’s a fucking dick, Jessa. I’m sorry I know I said I would keep my mouth shut, but damn, he’s a douche,” I announce, sitting up.

  Then, I demand that she tells me why the fuck she’s staying with him. He’s abusive as shit, and there is no reason any woman should allow what she does, especially a sweet person like her.

  Jessa tells me about her past, about not knowing her father, and how her mother left when she was fifteen. She explains that Trent’s parents took her in so that she didn’t get thrown into the system. I shake my head, knowing that this guy is totally manipulating her.

  “So, because his parents cared for you, you think you deserve to be treated like shit by their spoiled ass brat of a kid?” I ask. It's truth talk and I’m not really one to mince words, so I tell her like it is.

  “You don’t understand. Without them, I would have been put into foster care, sent God only knows where. It’s not like our town had a lot of people willing to take in a teenager,” she attempts to explain as if that makes the way he treats her okay.

  I tell Jessa a little about my childhood. I admit that my father left when I was a baby, that I was raised by my siblings and my single mother, then I tell her about my sister, Lola, and how her relationship with her ex-husband turned from bad to really fucking ugly. She tries to tell me that this is the first time Trent’s ever manhandled her and I shake my head.

  “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” I sigh.

  I watch as she pulls out her books and begins to study. “I listened, and I hear what you’re saying. I have it under control,” she lies.

  “I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me,” I state quietly.

  My eyes stay on her for another brief second before I give up. I gather all of my shower stuff and quietly leave her to her studying. I want to help her, but I also know that you can’t force your help on people.

  My phone sounds with a notification as I finish getting dressed. It’s a girl from my art history class, Shari. She tells me that it’s Sexy Saturday at Huskies, also known as ladies' night. I’ve never gone out with her, or her friends, but she seems really nice in class. I could use some new friends since Alison and her girls are definitely not who I need to be associating with.

  Making my way back to my room, I glance at Jessa who is dutifully studying. “Hey, I got invited to ladies' night at the eighteen and over club, would you like to join?”

  She drops her head slightly, then turns to face me, a sadness in her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispers. I nod and turn toward my own studies. If I work hard for the next several hours, then I can totally slack off tonight.

  Once my homework is finished for Monday morning, I get dressed for the club. I think about wearing something super sexy, but then I decide that there’s nobody I want to impress there so I opt for something less obvious.

  I grab a pair of really holey and distressed skinny jeans, then throw on an extremely wide neck, loose fitting top. Slipping my feet into a pair of silver high heels I apply a little makeup and brush my hair. I glance over at Jessa one last time and shake my head. I wish she would come out, a girl’s night would do her some good. She works too hard, studies too hard, and her boyfriend is a dick. She needs some fun in her life. With a sigh, I grab my small clutch and head out to meet Shari.

  My phone beeps and I grab it expecting to see a text from Shari. My mouth curves into a huge smile when I find that it’s from Thomas.

  THOMAS: Had fun last night. Free tonight?

  I almost squeal at the question. I want to tell him yes, but I don’t want to ditch Shari or her friends either. When I arrive at our meeting place I see her, and a couple girls standing with her. They wave me over and I shoot Thomas a quick reply.

  Going to Huskies. Sexy Saturday, ladies' night. Sorry. Raincheck?

  Shoving my phone back in my purse, Shari begins to introduce me to her friends and we head toward the
club. It doesn’t take us long to get there and I find that Shari’s friends seem much sweeter than Alison’s group. They’re easy to talk to and funny. By the time we make it to the club, my stomach aches from laughing so hard.

  THOMAS

  The music is blaring when I enter the club. When Ines texted me and said this is where she was spending the evening, my first reaction was surprise, then anger. I don’t know why it pissed me off. No, that’s a lie, I know exactly why it pissed me off.

  All I could imagine were the men there, staring, and then dancing with her—touching her. I didn’t want another man’s hands on her, not ever again. I got my ass up, dressed, and that’s why I’m here listening to the blaring-assed music.

  My eyes search the dance floor first, looking for that shock of black hair, that I’ve come to know is attached to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. It doesn’t take me long to find her, she’s shaking her ass in the middle of the dance floor, a huge smile on her face. She’s with some other girls, but I see the vultures swirling around them, waiting to pounce.

  I want to march over to her. I want to take her and dance with her, but I can’t. This entire club is surrounded by students. I don’t often come into the open dance floor when I visit here, choosing to stay in the twenty-one and over area where there is less of a chance of seeing a current student of mine.

  Everything that has already happened between me and Ines could get my ass fired, the last thing I need is for some loudmouth student to see us and bring our relationship up to my superiors.

  Backing away from the lights of the dance floor I make my way toward the wall next to the bathrooms. Hopefully, she’ll have to use them sooner, rather than later. I can’t take my eyes off of her, trying to keep my shit locked up tight, as men watch her dance with the group of girls.